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ＡＬＴＡＧＲＡＣＩＡ ☯ ＳＡＲＭＩＥＮＴＯ
ＤＵＣＨＥＳＳ ＯＦ ＳＩＳＣＩＡ


When Altagracia was little, all she wanted to do when she grew up was to be just like her parents. Bravely peering into the darkest corners of Siscia, they left no stone unturned to ensure that the systems in place worked as they were meant to. Alejo and Cruzita Sarmiento were paragons of truth. Silent protectors of the spirit realm. Altagracia's heroes. And yet their own daughter was not within the scope of such protection. Or perhaps this was their way of keeping her safe. Giving her a prosperous life. But it was a life built on lies; did such heresy not go against the very virtues they had once instilled upon her? Or was she just a worthy sacrifice? If so, what could be worth ignoring their child's turmoil? Her agony? Her heartache? Some ill-defined greater good? Greater for whom? Just them? Altagracia had certainly never seen anyone else they were to stand for, that much was for sure.

I guess it's true what they say: never meet your heroes.

Unfortunately for Grace, she wasn't given much choice in the matter. A recurring trend. When she first arrived at Utopia, the former detective had such grand aspirations. A fledgling sense of agency that never had a chance in the seven hells to stray far from the nest. After all, the nest had found ways of keeping close. Unbeknownst to her, Grace's parents had planted spies to keep an eye on her. With abilities that made them imperceptible to spiritual abilities and the otherworldly alike, they integrated themselves into the staff so that they may keep tabs on her interactions with the Fushiguro family. Unwelcome parasites that only revealed their true nature when it was most advantageous for them. Or most pertinent.

Given the multiple precarious circumstances that had plagued the school since the first day of classes, what Altagracia understood as a loose timetable set up by Ryo had been hastened by the real masterminds behind their betrothal. And with the elder prince's birthday soon approaching, the closing chapter of her time as an independent operator ended up getting rushed entirely. Lucky her.

Even now, the duchess considered escaping. But what resources would she have if she did? Where would she even run to? The thought of seeking asylum in one of her associates' kingdoms came to mind, but what if that only caused tensions to rise? Moreover, would she simply become a pariah in her homeland? Her parents held control over the flow of information; while she never thought about it until recently, there's a lot of terrible things that can be done with that sort of influence over the people. Speaking of which, what would become of her own homeland if she ran? If the information her parents had on the queen was enough to arrange all this, then surely it would be a source of great destabilization if it came to light.

And if that is the case...should they have not disclosed such information to begin with? As per their teachings, that would have been the correct path to take if the queen's actions were truly so damning. Instead, they decided to sully their own hands as well. Altagracia's head hung low. Another saying proven true in this case: absolute power corrupts absolutely. The duchess felt numb. She had no tears left to shed for her circumstances. No hoarse shouts to scream out. No rage. No sorrow. Just resignation. This was the end of the line.

Final preparations had been made. A guest list had been finalized. The venue, along with her dress, had been picked out. All without a word to her about any of it. The extravagance of her current attire was the sort of thing Altagracia would normally find agonizing, and she was certain that the decor would be no different. Her parents were big fans of maximalist design, as they called it. Lucky them. But instead of any sort of probing of the situation, Grace had instead found herself just staring blankly at her own reflection. As she did, she felt like she had been transported back to her childhood.

This scenario wasn't far removed from the extravagant uniforms she would be forced into when family paintings or official outings came up. As if she were a doll, they would dress her and pose her and use her as they saw fit. If only she had gotten the inclination then that a doll was all they saw her as. While she hated the feeling, she had simply believed it to be the way of things back then. They would always make her feel better about it afterwards back then. Assure her that they cared. Where was such reassurance now, she wondered. And at what point did her own flesh and blood decide she was better to them as a tool than a daughter?

But then they would have to take their hands off of my strings for a moment. And we can't have that, now can we?

Perhaps it was that underlying disdain for being used that initially put her off from Ryo. If she had been able to see past his cold exterior, to the whatever else is in his soul, would things have gone differently? Would they both be free of their strings already? After all, she was the one who labeled herself a detective. An investigator. But for all the mysteries she had unraveled, the one right on her doorstep eluded her until it was too late.

Altagracia looked up at the clock. Not long now. Aquamarine eyes lazily drew their gaze downward, vacantly glancing at the script that had been sent to her. Inside were phrases, mannerisms and facial expressions she was to use at various points during the ceremony. Pages upon pages written in ink long beforehand so that her union with Ryo Fushiguro would come off as a painting-perfect wedding. And then some. From today to her proper coronation as queen, various scenes had been carefully crafted to make her ascension seem to be a joyous occasion for all involved. While she hadn't been given a chance to confirm, she imagined Ryo had been given similar screenplays.

If there was one thing she was beginning to regret, it was that she was never able to see that Ryo too was a pawn in all of this. Undoubtedly, he would have also much preferred a marriage of his own choosing to the bastardization of matrimony that would soon commence. A puppet master was unlikely to enjoy such a role reversal. In a way, she wished she could apologize to him. To Clint. To Princess Harue. They were as much victims as she was.

What would a future with them even look like? What would their rule look like? No such notes had been given yet, but Altagracia was certain that plans for the future of Siscia were already in the works. A handmaiden came in, providing the soon-to-be queen with final touch-ups along with her veil before leaving the room. So despondent was she now that not even the thought of Ryo's lips against hers got her riled up. She was out of angles. Out of leads. Out of hope. Instead, she simply awaited the sound of that dreadful organ. While she couldn't be entirely sure, she hoped that none of her associates had snuck into the proceedings. She'd rather them retain the image of her as a person rather than that of her as a marionette. For as she looked back at her reflection in the mirror, that was all that she could see.

Location: Chapel - Waiting Room
Company: No one
Outfit: Wedding Dress, Hair
OOC:

ＡＬＴＡＧＲＡＣＩＡ ☯ ＳＡＲＭＩＥＮＴＯ
ＤＵＣＨＥＳＳ ＯＦ ＳＩＳＣＩＡ


Standing for a moment, Altagracia agonized over how heavy her dress felt. Picking up the silhouette with both hands, she let out a sigh. She'd long since been taught how to walk in such deathtraps, but the experience would never be an enjoyable one to her. Especially under such circumstances. Aquamarine eyes glared as she looked down upon the mass of white of fabric. I hope there's a special place in the seven hells for whoever popularized such excess. That even Altagracia herself could not entirely disparage the elaborately woven garment was further proof of their pervasive wickedness. The patterns adorned on the fabric were frustratingly exquisite. Not her normal style, but she could nonetheless notice the effort put into creating this dress. Surely it was considered a masterpiece in certain circles. Unfortunately, they had wrong opinions.

A knock on a door would take her from such thoughts, panic surging from deep within her. Was it time already? Frantically did she turn to the clock. No, not just yet. It wasn't yet. ”Altagracia? It is Harue; I am coming in.” Before she could register who spoke, the spirit detective was greeted by the company of Princess Harue. Adorned in a far more manageable blue and white affair, an innocent smile was on her face as she admired Altagracia's own mess. The duchess's breathing would begin to calm itself until she found it arrested at the point of high concern. From her body language, her princess did not quite understand the situation she had gotten into. Just as well, her attempt at matching Altagracia's mood looked like it held little to no understanding of the situation.

So she was unaware too? Does the queen even know? Are women simply unworthy of having information about things that directly involve them?

The duchess's hands would flex and curl back out as she drew in a deep breath. The princess had come to offer her and Ryo her blessing for their marriage. What did that mean, exactly? From the earnestness in her voice that rang true in her aura as well, this was further proof that the younger woman had no idea what was truly transpiring here today. But Altagracia could only glance at her for so long. She was unsure of what to do next. Should she try to explain? Looking back at the clock, she was unsure that she'd have enough time to do that before it was all said and done. "I, well—" Grace faltered, a hand meant to offer support barely rising towards the princess before stopping in its tracks. Instead, she brought both hands together at her waist.

"This wedding...it's not what I thought it would be so far," continued the duchess hesitantly. Turning her chair around, she sat back down before Princess Harue. Her eyes, however, would hang low. "I'm sure it doesn't need to be said, but your brother and I have never been particularly close. This...isn't ideal for either of us." Picking at her right index finger with her left, she cursed her timidness in such a critical moment. Unlike a case, however, this wasn't a matter of gathering the facts. She had them already and that was the exact thing that chained her so callously to her role. Would she just be subjecting Harue to a similar fate if she spoke the truth? And what of how she saw her mother?

Ultimately, it wasn't any of these things that stopped Altagracia from divulging further information. She'd already made entire reports about business she had no right involving herself in. Just as well, she didn't protect Harue's image of her mother for the queen's sake. More than anything else, the spirit detective was...afraid. Frozen by indecision. If all of her choices had still gotten her to this point, what did it all matter? Finally looking up at the princess properly, her face was pleading and her voice was weak.

"That such a fate was inescapable for he and I must be proof that such events were destined by the divine. Pray that they offer you a kinder fate, my princess."

Location: Chapel - Waiting Room
Company: Harue
Wearing: Wedding Dress, Hair
OOC:

"Ryo" "Bubby"
No matter how many times Ryo told his brother, Clint just wouldn’t listen. His mother was an innocent victim in all this. Manipulated by those around her and abused by their father until she reached her breaking point. Didn’t he understand that if she hadn’t done it, their lives would have gotten so much worse? Ryo could only imagine how isolated Clint must have felt being sold off, but the castle wasn’t much of a picnic either.

Picking up the pieces of their broken mothers when there was little left made it hard for him to leave her to come to Utopia to begin with. It was the thought of seeing Clint each day and the fact that he was bound to return soon after his vows to be crowned king officially. He had been training for the role since he was eleven, and it was only a matter of time before he sold himself to his nation to keep his family together and Siscia safe. The last thing they needed was a coup on their hands if they discovered the real reason for King Fushiguro’s passing.

Resisting the urge to speak, Ryo thought instead about how his brother must be feeling today. It had been rather recent, still, after their heart-to-heart conversation when Clint had revealed his feelings for Altagracia, but it was a decade too late. Her parents wanted power, and Ryo was the one-way ticket there; the only other option was for Ryo to disappear, for Clint to claim the throne, but the crown prince knew that Clint wanted nothing to do with the throne after what his father had done to him.

"I highly doubt mother had much of a say in her own marriage," Ryo mumbled, sure that Clint could hear him but unsure if his brother cared for what he had to say on the matter. They had been bickering about this on and off for the past month since Ryo learned Altagracia’s innocence in their arrangement.

As Clint’s hand found its place on Ryo’s shoulder, Ryo felt as if the man was trying to absorb what little he could of Ryo’s burdens. As much as he considered the idea of fleeing the chapel, it was a bit late for them to bolt now, plus Ryo could only imagine how the news would be received back at home. Many from his father’s council already doubted his ability to rule due to his mutism. Ryo's fleeing from the wedding would not only be seen as him running away from his duty but also paint him as the antisocial prince he was trying to branch away from at Utopia.

" I know you would. But Harue is still innocent in all this, and I want her to still have the chance to marry someone special someday." Thinking of the way the girl toyed with her ribbon some days, Ryo feared that day was coming sooner than he was ready for, but if it made her happy, he would be happy for her. " And you, I know you and Grace-" The man caught himself before thinking about how to finish the sentence, as he wasn’t clear as to what the two of them were. If they were continuing their affair, Ryo didn’t mind, but it would be a conversation the three would have to discuss about being discreet with their endeavors.

Thinking more about it, Ryo couldn’t handle it. How was he supposed to marry someone who had been pining after his brother for over a decade? It wasn’t fair to any of the three, " The whole thing is ********> Ryo allowed himself to break, trusting his brother to help him pick up the pieces of his fallen facade. " No one in this chapel wants to be here. How ******** is that? Even the guests. They are just here as a courtesy or gesture of goodwill toward the new king and queen." Letting out another sigh, he let out one last curse, " ******** style="font-size: 12px">OOC:
Wearing: x
Thoughts: Is it possible to leave?
Location: Chapel- Waiting Room
With: Clint

When Altagracia finally responded, Harue felt certain that the words she said did not reflect how she genuinely felt. If the princess had to guess, Altagracia was trying to spare her feelings. She ought to know; she would have done the same thing if she was in the other woman’s position. But that did not make her feel any better about it. Despite her best efforts, Harue’s chin dipped slightly as she struggled to find the right words for this situation. Could she perhaps say something comforting? No, she had tried that already and it had only resulted in Altagracia’s withdrawal.

Perhaps she should have been speaking to Ryo? If she was understanding things correctly, her brother was no more thrilled with the idea of this marriage than his bride. But what would she even say? And how did she hope to reach him? There was no time left; the wedding would begin in moments!

They would have to speak of it another time; Altagracia was right. And perhaps she could pluck up the courage to approach her brother on the matter. Even if the blushing bride did not place much hope in their finding some common ground and affection with one another, Harue was not willing to give up. She wanted her family to be happy, especially her brothers who deserved it more than anyone.

”Of course, as you wish.” Harue agreed easily; there was nothing more that she could really say at this juncture anyway. If only she had thought to approach her future sister in law sooner; perhaps there might have been more for her to say or do then. But regrets such as that served no purpose and Harue brushed them aside as best she could.

”Thank you.” Harue added suddenly, feeling the need to address one thing more, at least. ”You have been very gentle with me in what must be a difficult time for you. It is a shame I could offer you no cheer in return, despite my intent.” The little princess drew herself up, raising her head once more with hands folded before her and her smile back in its intended place. Despite her chagrin, she could not allow herself to remain so despondent in appearance. It was not pleasant and she had not come to show Altagracia an unpleasant face.

Altagracia offered her a hand and Harue eagerly took it, her smile softening into something more genuine. She had never had a sister. She felt selfish for the thought, but a part of her genuinely hoped that the two of them could grow close, in time. But there were far more important matters as she well knew. No amount of sisterly bonding would take the place of a proper bond with her husband.

The two soon parted ways and Harue took her seat among the waiting family, friends, and well-wishers. The ceremony began and the officiant spoke the time honored words that were only ever answered in the most silly and fanciful of novels. Yes, this was the point at which the hero of the story, who had spent several chapters fighting with the heroine before kissing her angrily one stormy night, would realize that he had loved her all along and could not bear to see her marry another. He would burst through the doors and declare that love, potentially having fought his way through a handful of guards hired by the unctuous groom to prevent the lovers from reuniting. Or perhaps he and the groom would cross swords, though the groom was always a coward who ran off before the battle’s conclusion. Nothing like her brother Ryo, of course, but this was not a story. This would not end with Altagracia marrying a barrel-chested stranger with long, flowing hair and smouldering eyes on the spot in front of her jilted groom’s assembled sycophants.

Why was she even thinking of such things? Harue knew the answer to that and it made her hands tighten in her lap. She was thinking of those foolish stories because the outcome was far preferable to watching two people joined in misery with no affection between them. It saddened her. A part of her wanted to speak up, to put a stop to the whole thing. A small, easily silenced part of her. She would not make a scene. She would not embarrass her brother, her absent mother, or even her dead father by making a scene at this wedding. She would not.

But she almost thought that perhaps the bride and groom both would be happier if she dared.