one

Mornings start silently.

Soon, her maids will come in, and they will bathe her, dress her, paint her. She will lay the crown on her forehead while beds are made and the fire is put out and the palace bursts awake, noise and bustle in every hall. The moment her bedroom door opens, the knock on the door only a formality, the empress is present.

But in the silence just before, Rio looks down at her private garden from her balcony, and is herself alone.

The Empress of the Poseidon Lands has everything. But Rio finds that slowly, terribly, she is losing all the things she loved.

She casts one last look at the garden down below. A Royal Garden is traditional, so she can have her own supply of fresh bouquets, and hairpieces, and ornaments. Rio had maintained it herself, once, but now such things are below her. One of the head gardener's girls now maintains it instead.

Rio doesn't even know who.

There are footsteps in the hall. She steps back into the room and draws the curtains. Below her the roses are blooming.

They never do smell the same, once they've been plucked.

The night before her father died, he disowned Ryoga.

Rio pretends not to know why. She pretended to her father's face and wept when he told her the throne was hers. She pretended to her mother's when she told Rio that she would only be burdened with the throne until she found a husband. She pretended to Ryoga's, when he came to say goodbye in the dead of night, before fleeing the castle.

And then she is alone. They are putting the crown on her head; they are saying may she live forever; she can stop pretending, but who is there to see?

Those were dark days, but Ryoga came back, and now Rio simply pretends the order for his exile doesn't exist. She needs him. He's the only person in the world who remembers what she really looks like.

She is always impatient to see him, even when she knows he's not bringing good news.

"Your Imperial Highness -" A servant tries to announce Ryoga, but he strides past them into the room, arms crossed. He is insulting: he doesn't bother to bow, and he's still armed. He's still in his leathers, too, and he's scowling.

She can't blame him. For once, she knows how he feels. She hasn't exactly been looking forward to the news she knows he's bringing.

"Your guards are useless."

"I told them not to throw away their lives trying to arrest you."

"Tch. And they listened?"

A few of the guards look offended.

The throne room is the seat of her power. Here Rio holds court, presides over disputes, is presented with visitors ally and enemy alike. She is wearing a white gown and her crown jewels, and against the gold throne she is at her most imperial. Here, Rio ceases to be, and some nebulous force called the Empress takes over.

She sees most people here, but she won't see her brother. What he has to say is probably unfit for royal ears.

Rio rises from the throne. Ryoga offers her his arm.

"Come," she says, and she lets him lead her away, waving off the guards when they try to follow too closely. It's not as if she is helpless, and Ryoga is right there, and formidable in his own right. They wade through the crowded halls. She can hear the whispers; the fallen prince has come home once more.

She lets Ryoga take her out into the Royal Garden. The guards know their place; they stay by the castle and give them their privacy.

Now she can really look at him.

The circles under his eyes are dark, but he looks more alive than usual somehow. He's still got the dust of travel on his clothes. The hilt of his blade is a little dented. Somewhere on his last journey he pierced his ears.

What a pair they make - the disgrace who looks more like a bandit than a prince, and the Empress in a perfect white gown, the fabric cut close to her body, her gems sparkling. And yet Ryoga is still wearing a signet ring with the family crest, and there is freshly turned soil staining the hem of Rio's dress.

"Well?" she asks.

"Well, what?"

"Tell me where you've been."

He shrugs. "I saw Durbe."

"Is he still -"

"Yeah."

She has been pressuring Durbe for years to leave his home kingdom and join her court. He is unhappy there. Ryoga is his best friend. His fellow knights torment him and Mach when they are at court, and so Durbe spends most of his time running errands instead of actually using his knighthood.

But Durbe is loyal. He's always refused.

(It isn't entirely about Durbe, of course. If Durbe lived with Rio, Ryoga would come home more often. Her two favorite people, in one place.)

Ryoga fidgets.

She could make him tell him every detail of his trip first. He would do it.

She looks around the garden instead. It looks very much like it did when she tended it; most of the plants she chose are still growing. There are new ones growing, too, some she doesn't even recognize. The beds are neatly kept, and the soil has been tilled recently. The hedge maze has been clipped.

And everything is blooming. The riot of color Rio can see from her bedroom is much more impressive up close; and now she has the scent of the garden in her nose. Her fingers are itching to get down on her knees and start weeding. Flowers of every shape, size and color abound. It's beautiful.

Perhaps, she thinks idly, she'll ask for a bouquet. See for herself her new gardener's skill.

If the throne room belongs to the Empress, then this garden belongs to Rio. She can exist here. She can take whatever it is Ryoga is about to deliver.

"Give it to me."

He pulls a folded sheet of paper out from somewhere beneath his breastplate. She takes it from his hand, and considers opening it then, just to get it over with. But the guards might see, and Ryoga will have questions. She slides it into a secret pocket at her waist, hidden in the drape of the fabric, and feels the weight come off her shoulders.

It's done.

She inhales deeply. She can smell the roses.

"Thank you."

"Hmph." He rubs the back of his neck. "Whatever. It's done."

"You'll come for the festival?" It's too much to ask him to stay until then. The celebration of Nasch and Merag, the twin sea gods, is still three months away. She and Ryoga were born on the day of the festival. It's a good omen.

Besides, during the festival there are no masters or servants, no empresses or slaves. The entire kingdom throws off their responsibilities to pray in the morning and revel all night. Violence is forbidden on the day of Nasch and Merag's festival.

It's the only day of the year Ryoga can stay here and relax.

He shrugs. She takes that as agreement.

"The garden looks good," he says.

Rio smiles. "Yes," she says. "I've a new gardener. They seem to know what they're doing."

Ryoga sighs. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and Rio can actually hear the clink of weapons as one of her guards starts to draw a weapon.

"Just be careful." He squeezes her shoulder before he starts to walk away. Despite the swagger, he takes care not to step in any of the flower beds.

Whether he means with her life, or her kingdom, or her heart — the list of marriage prospects she has in her gown could mean any of the three — Rio doesn't know.