It's raining outside, the water streaking across the window. I'm in my office, the one room in the palace I absolutely loathe to be in, because it means papers, and papers, and on and on. My wardrobe today reflects the weather, shades of dark blue, grey, and black. I turn my gaze away from the window, to sign my name again on a line, with a pen that already feels too heavy in my hand, and has been for quite some time. I lean back in my chair, pushing up my frames on the bridge of my nose, and setting the pen down. What I would give for some hot tea, I think, and call for Petyr, who brings me a tray, to find me staring out the window.

"Taking a break, Your Highness?" He asks. I can hear the soft clinks of the china behind me, as I simply stare out into the view of our vast "backyard", thankful that at least my boring office has a view of what I love. The stables are out of sight, to the right somewhere, but you could still see the groves of trees we have. The "forest" I used to call it. Past it, are vineyards, where farmers grow the grapes that are specifically used in Astor's royal family wine. I remember being taken there, once, when I was around twelve years of age. I liked the smell of red wine, in those barrels we were shown. I was even allowed a sip, and I remember my father's throaty chuckle when I made a face at, what was then, a vile and strong taste of alcohol.

Lost in my memories, I don't answer Petyr, only being brought back when I hear him setting my saucer and cup on my desk. I turn, and he inquires something again.

"Princess Elaine, are you finding everything to your liking here?"

At first, his question puzzles me. Of course, Astor is my home. I love to be here. Genevieve and I returned just a few days ago from Nobel Michel. I don't know what the paparazzi thought about my dissappearance from the party with Prince Joshua, and remembering Joshua's words, I've come to think that I don't care to know.

Searching for a way to answer Petyr's question to his liking, I remember a certain maid from Nobel Michel. Sybil, the one who could do my hair so perfectly well. For some reason, I say that.

"I'd like for a new maid to be put on staff." I state, sitting back down at my desk, taking my tea. Petyr looks at me quizzically-did I answer his question properly or not?

"Of course, Miss Elaine." He nods, and hesitates before asking if I have anyone in particular in mind. So, I write out a note addressed to Lord Michel, even Zain being mentioned in it, about coveting Sybil's assistance at my palace. That being done, I send Petyr on his way, and keep my eyes from the papers I'm just shy from finishing for today. Instead, my eyes are drawn to the books that line the wall. Government, history books, not all covering the history of Astor, but some on our allies.

My chocolate-colored eyes find themselves staring at a book spine with the title written about the country of Dres Van. I feel an urge to read it, but what's holding me back is the fact what others would think of my reading that specific book on that specific country. However, I get up to go to the bookshelf, and take the book, studying it in my hands. I set it near my cup of tea, fix my glasses, and read my papers, the pen that was so heavy before, back in my hands.

Petyr finds me a few hours later, to call me for lunch, reading this volume on Dres Van. It's been rather interesting so far-except, I've learned something about royal upbringing.

"Miss Elaine, lunch has been prepared." He addresses me, and I nod, marking my page, and standing up. However, a question is on my mind.

"Petyr, what do you know about Dres Van royalty?" I ask, casually, headed for the door, that he's holding open for me. He glances at me as I go past him, into the corridor.

"As much as I need to. Is there anything I can assist you with?"

I hesitate, but only for a moment. "Is it true that those of royalty, are raised without their parents around?"

Petyr's answer takes some time. "Yes, Your Highness. It's simply tradition, and it teaches the child, usually the eldest, about being independent. Something along those lines."

I pity Prince Joshua for that fact. I know I shouldn't, as pity is something I know far too well, but I do. Perhaps that is why he's entirely too stand-offish to people. I suppose nothing can be done about tradition, and I thank Petyr for confirming it, though there weren't any doubts in the book's honesty.

Dres Van is a country of tradition. I already knew that, and I wonder why I'm dotting on that fact. I muddle over these thoughts into lunch, into dinner, even at my bed, for I've brought the book with me. Perhaps I'm just curious about the country Joshua is to one day be ruling monarch of.

This is the first time I wonder who will be ruling at his side.