Lord Julius did stage magic for his sister's theater troupe.
The notion was so outlandish Ishtar stared blankly at him when he first told her — Lord Julius was used to a comfortable life being waited on hand and foot, now leaving twice a week during the autumn months to pantomime at stage-hand, ultimately capstoning in two produced plays.
It made sense when she considered that the Julia who performed was one with her heart captured by the bishop, but it was good for both of them. Princess Julia made an effort to learn most of her lines, meaning the plays could have a sprinkle more merriment and mirth of their villains, and Lord Julius practiced his non-Loptyrian magic without making any vies for power.
Tonight was no different, except Azelle of Velthomer was there (without her aunt), sitting in the seat the Empress normally reserved for her.
Ishtar halted when she saw him — not the only redhead present, but the only one from their world. To his left was one seat, likely for the other Julia, and to his right were three more: Empress, Emperor, and Ishtar. He was the Princess' uncle, much like he was the Prince's. His invitation was perfectly sensible.
The absence of Their Majesties did not.
A strong fall breeze blew through the cracked door. She hurried in, gracefully moving between bodies to round the seats. He must have heard her coming, expecting company, head swiveling on his shoulders. He smiled. Her thin dress hung heavy.
"Princess Ishtar. Deirdre mentioned you would be in attendance."
"I can't say the same about you." She regretted saying it, words clipped, but he did not seem bothered.
"Julia — the one who does stage management — invited me," he explained. "I find it difficult to tell her no." Two of the four Julias in Askr were involved in theater. It fit the girl she once knew.
Ishtar nodded; he folded his legs out of the way as she snuck into the seats. The width of two bodies between them as the theater filled, she raised her voice. "Do you know where Their Majesties and Her Highness are? It's not like them to be late."
Once more, his brow creased. "Oh. Deirdre said they might be fashionably late. There was a hold up with their launder, and Julia is with them." His face relaxed, looking around the room. "I did not realize these productions were so popular. This troupe could fill the theater in Belhalla."
She laid her hands on her lap. "You have been?" she asked dumbly. Belhalla housed many pleasant amenities for lords and lordlings, and that did not include the palace; she had fond memories of the better days. Julius' laughter, the sun hitting whitewashed stone, jesters and musicians and dressing in silly outfits. (Julius had a shy streak that kept him from reading lines with his sister.)
"Many times. Tailtiu, Lex, and I often went. I invited them tonight, but they are at the Clerics Association's bingo night." She heard of it — the proceeds went to the various charities headed in Askr. He sighed. "I am a bit curious how they divvy up the funds between the winnings and the donations, but that is strict cleric knowledge. I am poor with staves."
The most she heard him speak, she realized. She looked away, hoping for a sight of Julius' parents to save her from this. The Empress in this world was comfortably chatty. "I - I understand. They are unwieldy at times." Ishtar knew her manners, looking back to Azelle.
He straightened his shoulders, suddenly red in the cheeks. Azelle had a good face, in the sense that there was nothing off-putting about it (or him), and it did not hide his feelings well. Wide soft eyes, an emotive mouth and traveling brows. Lord Julius moved his face so, but she braced herself when he spoke. "I am sorry," he said, soft enough to be for her alone but not so soft to be lost in the din, "I do not mean to prattle."
"It's all well, Azelle. You…know a different Belhalla than I do. You know a different magic. And…" her mind abandoned her. Mjölnir was safely locked up at home.
They were being watched.
Azelle realized it, too, turning to the cracked maroon curtains. Red-eyed Julia stared at them. He gave a little wave. Wrist loose, she pointed at the empty seats between them, billowy sleeve dangling. Julia was more…manageable than Julius, but Ishtar had no power over her. She shrugged her shoulders, grateful Mother was not present. Julia looked at the entryway, the steadily filling room, their empty seats, before she disappeared into the folds of the curtains with a dramatic hmph.
"What an odd girl," Azelle said solemnly. Odd did not begin to describe it, suspecting he was too polite to name the obvious. "I will be right back, Princess Ishtar, if you can keep our seats."
"Of - of course." He bowed his head, then skittered out. She watched him go, easing his way through the crowd, hand turned out to mind his distance. No one noticed him disappearing outside.
She focused on her hands, her breathing. What was she doing? Her fiance was backstage. Azelle's warmth was not unique to her. He doted on and laughed with her aunt; he opened doors for Tine; he went to his niece and nephew's plays.
It was not her. It was him.
Askr was a world embroiled in constant conflict, but it was a chance to be happy and live anew. A reprieve from the horrors of their world. Lord Julius was happier, healthier here, though she failed to pry Loptous out of his hands. The Empress drew breath. Julius could not take her. Hope was real and possible in Askr.
Azelle returned, face still flushed, giving her an apologetic smile. "They are outside," he said. "Deirdre is admiring the flowerbeds before they are gone. I did not care to linger."