Teatime: Chess

A moment in time wherein Sylf and Ephraim have tea, talk espionage, and unsuccessfully play chess.

Timeframe: Rebellion

Sylf usually enjoyed her weekly tea sessions with Ephraim. It was one of the few times they were ever able to be alone together without scrutinizing eyes and they usually enjoyed every possible minute, whether it was an update on their hounds or some free time to chat about the latest books they were reading.

Today, however, seemed to be an exception.

"Would you make your move already?" Sylf said coolly.

"Do we have to keep playing?" Ephraim complained. He leaned back into his chair, sulking. Then, he brightened. "Why don't we play Gavant instead?"

Today, Ephraim was being a petulant child and Sylf's patience was nearly worn out.

"Gavant is not a game played at court. You need to learn how to play chess!"

"But, whhhyyyy," he whined. "Everyone knows I'm terrible at it!"

"That's even more of a reason why you need to learn!" she snapped, her patience exhausted. "Chess teaches you how to think several moved ahead. If you want to continue meddling in court politics with your head intact, then you need to start thinking this way!"

Ephraim pouted for a moment, thinking. Then, his lips curved into a wide, bright smile. "But that's why I have you, Sylf! You're always thinking five steps ahead!"

Sylf sighed and leaned back into her chair. She decided to take a bite of a delicious looking raspberry-lemon tart in an effort to temper her mood. It worked well enough, she supposed. She crossed her legs and tried to control her frustration as she said, "I may not always be around to advise you, Ephraim."

He sat up straight, alarmed. "What do you mean? Is something happening that I don't know about?!"

"No, there's nothing new happening and there's nothing wrong," she said as reassuringly as she could. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back into his chair again. She continued, "It's pure practicality. I may not always be nearby for you to constantly consult. What if you travel without me? Or what if you are sitting in a state dinner, having to navigate a tricky and nuanced conversation?"

Ephraim waved his free hand at her dismissively. "I've done well enough thus far."

"That's not good enough," she scowled. "I know it. Kassandra knows it, and your Uncle, the Grand Duke knows it."

Ephraim set his teacup down and groaned, rubbing his face. "Fine," he sighed dramatically. He reached up and moved a piece quickly.

Sylf rolled her eyes. "You can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You can't put yourself in Check."

Grumbling Ephraim reached up and took the move back. He moved another piece, but Sylf stopped him. "That's also Check."

Ephraim threw up his hands, frustrated. "Then what move can I make?"

"Well," Sylf began, "You can move your pawn to C5 or—"

Ephraim promptly moved the piece and sat back in his chair, arms crossed.

She glared at him, but he simply held her gaze and pouted back. She wanted to lash out at him, tell him he was nothing more than an Idiot, Puppy, Prince who wasn't worth her time, but that wasn't true. For all of Ephraim's intelligence and diligence, chess was just something he did not enjoy, and she couldn't fault him for his own personal sensibilities. Perhaps she could just focus on the strategy aspect? Or find another strategy game for him? He already despised the table war games. What else could they play?

Sylf took her time calculating her next move, running through various options while sipping her tea. When she finally thought she had a plan and a reasonable way to explain why, she glanced up to her Prince.

He was more relaxed now with his elbow propped up on the arm rest of the chair, his head resting on his chin. His golden eyes were trained on her, but also past her, as though he were seeing through her while lost in thought.

Sylf sat up straight and placed her hand on her knight. "Ephraim." He didn't respond but continued to stare at her with a dreamy expression. "Ephraim, are you paying attention?" she called again.

"Hm?" Ephraim said, his eyes focusing on her. His head lifted at little as he added, "Yes, my Darling?"

Sylf froze, her mind coming to a screeching halt.

Ephraim frowned at her. "Is something wrong?"

It took a moment for words to form in her mind, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears making it difficult to think about anything else.

"Did you say something?" she managed to get out. There was no way he called her "Darling", right? It was an old code name, a familiar joke now. That's all it was supposed to be, a joke. He was joking, right? Or teasing? Or an accident? He said it so casually, so naturally, as if he called her that all the time…

"No, I don't think so," he said. His brows furrowed. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

She wanted to ask, to press him more, but she didn't know what to say. "Never mind, then," she said. Straightening she waved the knight in her hand. "We have a game to finish, if you're done daydreaming."

Ephraim blushed and glanced away from her smiling. "I'd rather go back to my dream," he said softly. What could he have been dreaming about? But then he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, not meeting her gaze.

Sylf frowned, wanting to press on before their meeting time was up. "As I was trying to say, I want to move my knight. Where would it be advantageous for me to—"

"Your Highness? Mistress Dawnwood?"

"Bertrand!" Ephraim exclaimed, relieved. He shot up out of his seat and tried to rush over to his servant, escape in sight, but Sylf stepped out around the table and caught his arm.

She glared at him. "We will be playing chess again, Ephraim. Or you will be playing war-table games with your Uncle, instead."

Ephraim sighed dramatically, resigned. "Fine. I'll try and practice my chess."

He straightened and she released his arm. "And," she added, "Next time, less daydreaming and more focus on planning your moves."

Ephraim flushed again, but he held her gaze and flashed her a smile. "Well, you do make it rather challenging."

Sylf could only stare at him as he strolled off, Bertrand at his heels. That was bold of him. Flirty too.

Sylf put away the chess board, thinking. What did she make challenging about focusing on the game? What had he been daydreaming about? He was looking through her, she thought, but…what if he was looking at her?

Yes, my Darling?

Sylf froze as his voice rang in her ears, the realization dawning on her. She hadn't misheard him at all. Perhaps it was a simple slip of the tongue but… She felt her cheeks warm as an unusual giddiness spread through her. She shouldn't feel this way. They were just friends. Their occasional…dalliances meant nothing.

But she couldn't help the lightness in her step as she made her way back to her quarters. By the time she was settled into her evening routine, she decided that next week they would definitely be playing chess again. Who knew the game would be so…revealing?