Desperation: "loss of hope and surrender to despair; a state of hopelessness leading to rashness." I feel rather bitchy today, sorry. :):):):):):):):) Mmmwah!!! Bring on the love, baby. Dear me, I'm in a strange mood.

2. Tough Love

She was one of those beauties who took care that no one ever got too close, for those brave souls were likely to be asphyxiated by the amount of hairspray she bestowed upon her luxurious golden head. She might have been pretty without all the fuss of the silver eye makeup and exquisite clothing, but the woman had money, and was therefore expected to flaunt it. Her lovely but heavily lacquered mouth curved into a thousand-watt smile and began to speak. "This has been Sheila Montague reporting live at the Commons House for KING-7."

Her cameraman gave a signal, a little red-light blinked, and Sheila threw the microphone to the floor. "Damn it, Nick, I said three seconds! Not two! Three!"

The man placed his camera into its padded case. He rolled his eyes as he spoke but was careful to keep his back to the reporter. "What difference does it make?"

Sheila's brow creased and her eyelids lowered, never a good sign as far as Mrs. Montague was concerned. "That's it. You're fired. Get your ass out of this building or I'll have it thrown out."

"Is there a problem here?"

The cameraman straightened up at the intrusion of a third voice. "Uh, no, mister prime minister, your wife and I were just discussing--"

"His need of a new job," interrupted Sheila. "Get out."

As the cameraman hurried down the steps of the capital building the third presence took Sheila's arm. Jonathan Montague had aged handsomely thus far, though the gray at his temples and his tired demeanor betrayed the stress that leading a country had heaped upon him. "Dear, what say you we walk a bit? I have things on my mind."

Sheila's famous on-camera smile had returned, all traces of her temper gone. "Of course, dear husband. What is wrong?"

Jonathan led her down a nearby hallway which had been bedecked in green and blue finery. It was the pathway they used to impress foreign visitors on the way to the prime minister's office, though Jonathan favored it simply for its length. It gave him a calm place to think in the midst of the storm that constantly swirled around him. "I didn't hear Rick come in last night. Do you know where he could be?"

His wife's tinkling laugh reverberated round the marble walls. "First of all, it is a very big house. He might have come in late without us knowing."

"I asked the gatemen, he has not entered since he left two days ago."

"Your son is young, Jonathan, he is probably just off somewhere with his friends. Is that not so unusual?"

"Too common, dear wife. I worry at what he will become."

"I wouldn't worry too much; after all, Richard is your son. He cannot help but accomplish great things."

Jonathan pressed a hand to his head, rubbing at weary eyes with his palm. "Indeed. I worry because I remember what I was at that age."

"I did not know you then, husband, I could not say."

By now they'd reached the office, and Jonathan let go of Sheila's arm as he spotted a young man waiting outside it. "Give me leave, I have business to attend to."

"Will you be home tonight?"

"Unless I drop dead of exhaustion before then."

Sheila did not acknowledge her husband's attempt at humor, simply nodding and hurrying back down the hall from whence they'd come. Jonathan watched her go for a minute, wondering what in the world his wife did with her time when she wasn't being New Verona's most popular television journalist. She certainly never seemed anxious to spend more time with him.

The prime minister shook these thoughts off and turned his attention to his young nephew, who waited patiently by the door to his uncle's office. He wore a patch over one eye as the result of a street fight several years ago. Jonathan suspected the patch was meant to give his nephew a somewhat debonair appearance, but this sought reputation was tempered by his notoriously lighthearted manner.

"Izzy," said Jonathan, taking out his ring of keys to open the door. "How are your parents doing?"

"As well as can be expected, uncle, with me for a child. And you?"

Jonathan gestured for Izzy to sit in one of plush armchairs that lined his outer office, himself plopping down on a nearby couch. "My own son looks to be the death of me. The worry has me nearly out of my mind. Might you know where he is?"

Izzy hesitated, picking at a stray thread on the armchair. "I might."

"Well? Do you or don't you? The question is simple enough."

"I fear the answer is much more complicated."

"Is it that Rosaline again? That girl is no good for him."

"I agree, uncle. And so does Rick; he'll no longer dwell on Rosaline."

"Thank Osiris. They've broken up, then? So where has he been? Don't tell me I have to shell out more bail money?" At Izzy's carefully blank stare, Jonathan stood. "He got arrested again, didn't he? Something to do with Rosaline?"

"No, no, nothing like that. As soon as Rosaline was out of his sight he headed to the local pub, and it was there I saw him arrested some hours later."

Jonathan sat back down on the couch. "What was bail set at?"

"Oh, Ardeth already got him out. I suppose he wouldn't mind a check, though..."

"Was it quiet? Can we keep it out of the papers?"

"I should think so, sir, only a out-of-towner was hurt in the fight--"

"A fight? Osiris, what next!"

"Parris, I think his name was. He held his liquor as well as Rick, though his reflexes were not nearly so fast."

"Will he press charges, you think?"

Izzy smiled. "No. I think the embarrassment was enough for the lad. I daresay we won't hear from him again."

A familiar feeling of comfort overwhelmed Evelyn as she stepped out of the sunlight and flash of cameras into the deserted front foyer. While away she'd rarely had time to be homesick, but suddenly being back in the castle brought with it a barrage of memories. After a few moments Evelyn realized she was staring at the staircase in front of her as if she expected someone to come down it and greet her. Indeed, she expected her mother, but never again would Queen Anck float down the grand stairway to welcome her daughter home.

Evelyn wiped away a tear as she stood alone in the foyer. She was a princess, for Osiris' sake, shouldn't she be loved enough in her own home to be greeted by someone, anyone, after a four-year absence? Not even a kindly cook to offer something sweet, nary a maid to help her unpack, not a soul in sight to welcome back a most beloved daughter. No one at all...

Evelyn's heart nearly burst when her father came bustling around the corner. So he had remembered, after all, and come to--

"Evelyn?" the king said, catching sight of his daughter in the midst of her luggage. "Why, we'd about given you up for dead. Weren't you supposed to be back Wednesday?"

Evelyn's smile became a bit strained, but she kept it on. "No, father, Friday. Today. Did you not expect me?"

"A most welcome surprise. And just in time for the party." Seti gave Evelyn an pat on the back before gesturing for her to join him in his stroll. "Before the party, though, I must discuss something with you. Do you know of the Duke of the Mathayus province, Parris?"

"Of course."

"You probably do not remember his son, Beni, but he is staying with us on holiday from his duties in Mathayus. He will be attending the party tonight, and I thought perhaps the two of you might hit it off."

The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that so often accompanied Evelyn's discussions with Seti had returned. "Father..."

"Twenty-one and not married, Evelyn, it is almost shameful."

Evelyn blushed slightly at the thought of those blue eyes that had caught her imagination earlier that day, but banished them from her mind before replying. "I was under the impression that we'd settled this four years ago."

The king stopped and waved away the servants that crowded around them. "So you went to college, good for you. I'm proud of you, I really am. And now, you can rule your people even better for the experience... With your husband by your side."

"Father, I don't--"

"Evelyn, you have a responsibility to this country, a responsibility I do not take lightly. I will see you married by summer's end."

"And what if I refuse?"

"You cannot. I am your father, and you will do what I tell you." Seeing her look of despair, he continued in a slightly softer tone of voice. "Now, I'm not asking for a decision right away. But tonight, at the party, look upon Beni Parris kindly Perhaps after you've met him, your dissent will be subdued somewhat."

"I highly doubt it, father, but I will do as you say."

Seti smiled broadly, any hint of sarcasm lost on him in the face of such welcome obedience. "Wonderful. You'd best prepare for the party, then. I will see you tonight."

The king clicked his fingers, drawing forth a posse of servants and hangers-on, and swept down the hallway. Evelyn looked after him, the resentment which she had so long contained flying nearly out of control. "You cannot tell me how to live," she said to the empty room, suddenly realizing in the silence how very alone she was.

~*~*~*~