Look and See by Seereth

For Avelon Emerin, who requested some villain angst, preferably a villain that doesn't get a lot of spotlight.

~*~*~*~

"I am sending you to Tortall," the king informed her shortly. His eyes were far away, or perhaps he was just staring at the slave girl. Josiane didn't know and she didn't want to look to see.

She'd gotten scolded the last time shed tried to look. It had been patiently explained the king did not appreciate competition.

"I do n-" she began, and changed her mind when his gaze focused. She did not like it when his eyes focused in on her. "Of course, father."

She saw the girl he'd been looking at as she left the room. Saw her, and made a note to point the girl out to mother.

Just because she didn't want him to focus in on her, didn't mean he shouldn't.

~*~

The ship was very fine – she knew, she'd seen it before leaving.

That was the only reason she knew, though. It was surprisingly hard to concentrate on the nearly-tasteful use of gilt paint, or the elegant carvings when you were retching day and night over the side of the ship and getting splinters of wood imbedded in your palms.

She'd brought her dog along, which turned out to be a mistake.

The first time he'd pawed at her dress – silk brocade, and worth more than his weight in gold – she'd kicked him. The second time she'd collected herself as well as she could and threw him overboard.

The sailors had been quiet for a moment, staring at her, or at the small, madly paddling dog in the ocean. He passed out of sight, but they remained staring at the sea or at their princess, retching again, until the captain roared at them to get back to work.

"My lady," said one of her maids, a hesitant presence at her elbow.

"Leave me," she hissed. The woman did not move. "Leave me, unless you wish to end up like the dog." The sound of her feet running in the opposite direction was gratifying.

She thought the sailors looked but did not see. In that, they were much like her father.

~*~

Josiane suspected the prince – Jonathan - saw her, but only as a princess. She did not wish to be seen that way.

Or, she did not wish to only be seen that way.

Lianne was, if possible, worse.

Still, she was good at hiding what she thought – good at hiding that she thought at all. There was no emotion in her eyes but admiration, no hint in her voice of her frustration, or of the seasickness that she still felt clawing at her belly.

Would you care to dance?

"I would love to," she told him, when she wanted nothing of the sort, and moved with the prince onto the floor.

Turning, she caught green eyes wide with speculation, gleaming chestnut hair. She felt a prickling at the pack of her neck, wondering if it was the young woman in emerald taffeta whose eyes followed her movements across the floor.

Wondered if the young woman saw her as a rival for the prince's affections.

Why do they always see me wrongly?

The looked, but did not see. Their eyes were beyond her.

Always…

~*~

"Princess Josiane," a woman said; a sweet soprano voice, purposefully young. Josiane did not need such illusions yet, and had she, would have been unable to successfully employ them. She turned, meeting the emerald eyes of one of the Tortallan ladies.

"Yes?" she asked the delicate brunette, her eyes flicked to the woman accompanying her – also brunette, but striking rather than pretty. Her eyes were soft brown, and she wore ruby red velvet and gold.

"I am Delia of Eldorne," the delicate, green clad woman said, and added to her companion, "Cythera darling, I know you had an appointment, don't let me keep you."

Cythera raised one eyebrow a fractional amount but curtsied to Josiane. "I hope our acquaintance will not remain so brief," she said. "But you must excuse me, Delia is right – I do have a rather pressing engagement." Her steps as she walked away were stronger than Josiane thought most women could get away with, but not unseemly.

Delia looked at Josiane as the princess watched the taller woman leave them. Josiane did not wish to meet her eyes, did not want to know what she would see.

She looked anyway.

And saw…

…herself.

"Your highness?" Delia asked her, with frightening calm.

You're a very good liar, Josiane thought. Why are you so good? "What did you wish to speak with me about?"

"I think," Delia said delicately, and Josiane still only saw her reflection in the older woman's eyes, "it would be…wiser to discuss this in my own chambers." Josiane nodded, but Delia froze for a moment. Her sudden nod made no sense to Josiane, but she followed her anyway.

~*~

"Tea?" Delia asked her, hand hovering over cups and a steaming pot.

 "No, thank you," Josiane murmured.

"Very well." Delia folded her hands in her lap, looking frankly at Josiane. "I wish to talk to you about J – about Prince Jonathan."

Josiane did not spit – she was too well brought up – but she knew her eyes betrayed her feelings. "I no longer have his favor," she said, very quietly, but only an idiot would mistake her tone for mild. "The court knows that. All of Tortall knows that."

Delia's smile was out of place in their conversation. Josiane did not lunge at her, though she wanted to. No doubt it would be explained.

"Would you like," Delia said – practically purring the words, "to make sure that would never happen again?"

Josiane was not known for indecision.

Delia smiled, and Josiane saw that Delia, at least, saw more of her than anyone did.

She liked to be seen.