A/N: So here is the first chapter of the reboot of "Question of Honor"! As I explained, the first one wasn't bad but could've used some real improvements, which I think this story will provide. Question of Honor, to me, felt rushed and I didn't like Grace's character that much.

This fixes all of those problems as well as keeps the characters more in line.

With that all said...enjoy and destroy!

Proof of My Constancy

~Tell me your counsels. I will not disclose 'em. I have made strong proof of my constancy. Giving myself a voluntary wound here in the thigh. Can I bear that with patience and not my husband's secrets?~

Portia, Julius Caesar, Act 2, Scene 1

Part One: Chapter One: An Old Friend From The Past

It had been four months since the terrorists detonated the dirty bomb that destroyed Corte Maltese. Four months since my father died, trying to buy time for our people, Mama and me to escape. Four months since I swore the Coronation Oath with swollen bloodshot eyes, shaking legs and a voice that betrayed the numbness that crushed me like a truck.

It was a symbolic act…we had no Corte Maltese to return to.

But we had to have something to hold onto.

We were lucky when the United States granted us permission to set up a government in exile at our embassy in Gotham City. Soon we discovered a plot of land just outside of Gotham where we could set up a municipality for refugees could settle.

I was sure Corte Maltese could live.

Until Councilman Cicero sat me down with the Corte Maltese's Constitution in hand.

"I must what!?" I snapped, exhausted from lack of sleep and grief.

"Your Highness, it's in our Constitution. Right here." Cicero said, flipping to a page written in strong and fluid Italian script. His gnarled finger pointed to a section "The new Prince or Princess must be engaged within six months of taking the Oath and have a legitimate child by the second anniversary of taking the Oath…"

"My first language is Italian, I know what it says." I snapped. Cicero sniffed, twitching his thick mustache and glaring at me with brown-black eyes. My burst of anger spent, I swallowed what was left of my wounded pride. "We have more important things to worry about right now, Cicero. My marriage shouldn't be one of them. If I decide to marry at all."

Mama was still sick with grief since we realized Papa wasn't joining us. She spent her days curled up in bed, staring at the wall and letting the food we brought her grow cold.

I didn't want to grow so attached to someone that I withered away like she was doing in that moment should they die.

"I know you saw what grief is doing to your mother…but nothing says that it can't be an open marriage. Princes in days past took lovers." Cicero said, his voice gentle. He rested his hand on my shoulder. "All that's needed is a marriage and legitimate heir. Preferably a spare as well."

Papa told me that the day he met Mama, he knew that he'd never have a mistress, despite it being tradition.

The few times I saw them together, when they thought they were alone, I saw the love between them…and I would wish upon the first star I saw in the night sky that I would experience that.

I shook my head, rubbing my eyes. "I can't do that. I can't…"

Cicero nodded before closing the black leather book that held the Constitution with a snap.

"Your Highness…I know you've had this terrible burden thrust upon your shoulders and you've borne far more than most people have in a lifetime. However…our people need a reason to hope. They have nothing left. If they see you refusing…"

He let the unfinished words hang in the air as he left the room, closing the door behind him. I sat down at the desk and put my head in my hands.

I rubbed my eyes and looked at the portrait taken the summer I turned seventeen.

It was at the villa where we spent every summer, right on the coast. I was wearing a pink bathing suit, my black hair flying out of its braid and sitting on the edge of our yacht.

Papa stood next to me, dressed in his neoprene diving suit and his SCUBA gear next to him.

We both had the same smile…

I turned the photo down on the desk.

I couldn't think of the past.

There was nothing left for us back there anymore.

I needed to think of the future.

Of our future.

My head winced and I massaged my temples, trying to relieve the stinging feeling bubbling in my head.

The knock at the door pounded in my head. "Come in." I groaned, massaging harder.

I noticed Dr. Thomas Elliot, my personal physician, coming in. He took one look at me and cocked his square face, hazel eyes glimmering in amusement.

"Cicero said you might be coming down with a headache."

"You came at just the right time." I said with a groan as he stepped closer to me, putting his bag on his desk. "You have something to help?"

"Always." He said, pulling out a syringe and phial. I rolled up my sleeve and turned away as he prepared the syringe and wiped at my arm with an antiseptic wipe. "This is going to sting."

"He told you what caused it?" I asked, wincing as the needle entered my skin and the plunger pushed down. "Ouch."

"A little bit." Dr. Elliot said, removing the needle and getting a bandage ready. "Just about you needing to be married in two months."

"Yeah and he waited until now to tell me." I said, scoffing. Relief pulsed through my body, resting in my head. "Thanks…I feel better already."

"You're welcome." Dr. Elliot said, disposing of the syringe in the red biohazard container he had with him. "I…hope you're not planning on asking me. My wife would kill me."

"Because you're taken?" I asked, smiling at his joke.

"That's part of it." Dr. Elliot said, smiling back at me before resting his hand on my shoulder. His warmth settled into my bones like a cup of hot coffee on a cold morning.

Someone knocked at the door. "Your Highness?" My secretary, Annette, asked from the other side. "Mr. Lau is here for the two o'clock council meeting."

"I'll be there." I said before looking at Dr. Elliot. "Duty calls, I'm afraid."

Dr. Elliot nodded and looked at me one last time. "No matter what happens, Grace Montello…I always have your back."

"I know." I said, watching him squeeze my shoulder and leave.

I tried to avoid the photo frame resting on the table as I stood up, squared my shoulders and walked to the door.

A leader is never off duty.

The rest of the day crawled by and Dr. Elliot's medicine wore off faster than I wanted it to.

I was relieved when the workday ended and I decided to go back to the penthouse Mama and I were renting.

Even though we had a grand suite of rooms at the embassy available for our use, Mama didn't want to be there.

"It was the first project I had as your Papa's consort, decorating that place." She explained with teary eyes. "We had so many happy times there."

Even when I pointed out that we didn't have the funds and that it would look bad if we spent money on another place…Mama's family came through and sent us the funds to rent a penthouse suite in Bellevue Tower. It was the safest building in the city and a popular hotspot for Gotham's elite.

The building's safety, Mama's willingness to use her own funds and connections that could be made convinced both the council and me that it would be a good place to live.

But the decision was met with some controversy.

The paparazzi were gathered outside the building's entrance, swarming like a hive of bees. I wasn't sure if they were waiting for me but Michael, the driver and my bodyguard for the evening, drove around and to the attached garage. From there we could take the elevator to our suite.

Bellevue had a modernistic and minimalist approach to design, which was fine by me. Most of the refugees were lucky if they had furniture, let alone a safe place to live.

Since the mysterious Batman saved the city from a mysterious gas attack the year before, Gotham's reputation of the Most Dangerous City To Live In was changing. However, I spent most of the days taking care of my refugees' needs and housing was a big problem.

As the elevator doors opened, the smell of Mama's spinach and artichoke risotto filled the penthouse along with the scent of toasted bread. My stomach growled as I realized I hadn't eaten in several hours.

"Oh you're here!" Mom said from the kitchen area. She sounded so much better and I smiled in response.

She was in a good mood. Something special must've happened.

I turned the corner to see a middle aged man sitting at the high top table, dipping a piece of toast in a prepared container of olive oil before nibbling at it. He was dressed in a nice dark blue suit and his dark brown hair was slicked back.

I paused, my heart hitching in my throat.

I knew that man.

Mom was busy stirring the pot of risotto on the stovetop. "Grace should be home any…" She turned to face me. Her brown eyes were still red but the smile on her face was brighter than the sun. "Well speak of the devil!" She walked over to me and hugged me. I breathed in the deep scent of her Armirage perfume and the yeasty smell of bread coming from her apron.

"Hello Mama. Hope you had a good day." I said, returning her hug.

"I most certainly did and you won't believe you came to dinner today." She said, turning to the man.

He turned and I recognized his angular face and his deep brown eyes.

He was the gardener my family hired the summer I turned seventeen to care for the orchards and vineyards.

The man who became my closest friend.

The man I shared my first kiss with…

"Hello Grace." He said, wiping his lips with his napkin and standing up. That gentle smile was back on his face.

"Hello Bruce. It's been a long time."