The 4th Princess Just Wants to Rot!

This week was not going well for Sophia Elise the Eighth.

In fact, it can be argued that beyond just these past ten days life in general was not going well for this Fourth Princess.

Forced into an arranged marriage that was the textbook definition of politically violate to an absolute stranger, brought to this strange country that seemed to fight against literally every single bit of comfort she ever had in her prior life, and perhaps worst of all: she was now forced to actually work.

A week packed full of six royal audiences, two religious ceremonies involving her for some reason, and almost sixteen hours worth of paperwork that may or may not have been only four real hours of work not counting procrastination.

From midnight to early morning Sophia would hold her (extremely short) court sessions in that cavernous room atop that awful chair—dismissing these strangers who wore the dark robes of Magistrates, the gold patterned spiraling cloaks of the High Court Sages, and in between them all their lackeys wearing those extremely uncomfortable looking military uniforms.

Though, those were utter trivialities compared to the nightmare of those two ceremonies. A Dawn Illumination Rite had forced her to listen to the hour-long drone of some old woman in dark black clothes whose face was covered by a veil of even darker material. Such a long ritual that, all things considered, wasn't too bad when she decidedly put herself into a nice nap halfway through it all.

The Offering of Sustenance was quite a treat however (though she did have to wake up for this). A line of six Sages who handed her each a steaming serving of rice buns with all the ceremonies of crown jewels—and with each one this Sophia Elise had decided stuffed her mouth with them. Plain and unflavored, but at least it was something of a real breakfast.

All this planned out dutifully by a Chief of Staff who seemed to be developing dark circles under her eyes, guarded by an Impericutta legionary and a Royal Guardsman who were now actually quite nicely taking shifts apart from one another, and all executed expertly by the Fourth Princess of the Ensolian Imperium

Wow, actually yeah we did an incredible job this past week. A thought process tells this Consciousness Committee, layering on praise like some chocolate cake of pure cope. Look at us girlbossing our way through Dominion politics. We are literally a political super weapon: trained and tested by the best and brightest so that we can now easily breeze through this stupid, silly, weirdly split court system of Magistrates and Sages.

But Sophia still remains sprawled out, face first, on the floor of her politically married husband's room. Smelling the scent of sandalwood upon these cold black tiles, letting this half-pile of drool and snot pool around her point of impact—allowing herself this moment of utter humiliation to really simmer.

We did such a good job though... She thinks to herself, trying to piece her own ego back together like a bricklayer. So why are we currently in a crumpled mess, on the floor, in the midst of a mental breakdown?

There's a long while before some small voice calls to her, from the most ancient minds in the depths of this holy place. From the remnant electrical pulses to the movement of the tiny motes of dust, the ghosts of ancient missives and ancestors still echoing into a cohesive bite of commentary.

We have watched as the light of the stars have crossed the floors of this place, we have seen you inhale air into your lungs and speak your words of power. But like the farmer's plow upon stone you have forgotten the vast premise of your existence: the reason why you draw life into your circuits of neurons, why you have survived this place of our blood and gold.

"I need to rot." Sophia Elise murmurs under her breath, small enough that only she can hear herself say this absurdity.

Nine days of rotless existence. Her consciousness committee tabulates with increasing panic. Not a single smut novel, not even one hour straight of anything other than work, work, and work!

A new world record, truly.

Nine days into a ten day week—for the first time in history an Imperial Princess has skipped two thirds of a weekend.

Ok we'll deal with this incredibly spoiled mental breakdown later. Her internal monologue delegates. Right now we gotta focus on not humiliating ourselves in front of our own husband. OF WHOM WE HAVE NOT SEEN A SINGLE TRACE IN NINE DAYS.

Sophia Elise the Eighth slowly, mechanically picks herself off of the cold floor, pins those long strands of hair back together upon her head in a neatish bun, and adjusts those long, flowing Tiancin robes so as not to pinch that waist of hers too hard.

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The Fourth Princess stares at her husband with that empty gaze, this now three minute long silence drawn out to such an awkward point that she begins with a deep breath. Cold, unyielding—a single title spoken from her lips with absolute control. "Husband."

Zai blinks, trying to find a reply. "Y-yes?"

"It has been nine days since I last spoke with you." Sophia notes. "I have come to inform you that this past week I have been quite productive."

She catches the smallest of glances that the thin, extremely cute man makes to the small stack of papers atop that desk of his.

Her political instinct reads him like a shut book cover. Oh you know he knows, so play ball like you mean it girl.

"As you know I've taken on many tasks that are associated with the position of a Princess Consort. I've competently held multiple court sessions in your vein, and have provided religious utility in several rituals that… required my attendance. There also were some discrepancies within the budget of my staff that I have rectified accordingly.

"I also have informed my chief of staff to prepare a summary of all my activities."

The silence lasts for a long time.

A really long time.

Zai exchanges eye-contact with Guardsman Fushimi, with Guardsman Wei also glancing between both this outsider Princess, her charge, and her fellow Guardian of royalty—an entire unspoken conversation transpiring as this Princess patiently waits for a response that doesn't actually come.

We really just did a job interview with our husband, didn't we. Part of this girl's committee cries. Oh my Goddess we really did just do a debrief to him!

Sophia speaks up, interrupting them as she aims these cold words directly at the highest ranked person in the room. "Is it… acceptable?"

Zai blinks as he pulls his gaze back to her. "I-... I've yet to receive a full report of your activities these past nine days."

"You will." She half-threatens, half-informs him. "I have worked quite hard. Can I have some recognition?"

There's a short second where the Crown Prince of Tianci needs to hold his breath at the request, straightening his posture and taking just a few, careful steps to put this table between both him and his politically married wife. Movement slow enough to not force a reaction, keeping his eyes on her like a prey animal.

"I… I can see that." He speaks once behind this waist high block of hardwood. "I've noted some movements within the parties you have spoken to in your court sessions. There have been some developments due to your influence, still ongoing devel…"

Sophia interrupts him, trying not to rock on her heels while keeping this incredibly precise posture. "Were they helpful results?"

There's something about the way he opens his mouth before he speaks to her, in the way where he catches the words before they spill from his lips and into the permanency of the universe. It's how his jaw tightens, how his eyes flicker across her body and towards her eyes—Zai Tianci has no words that can even begin to encompass this overwhelming force that stands in his own room.

Oh right we did sorta just barge in here didn't we? Sophia clears her throat, trying a little too hard to make this genuine apology sound genuine. "I… I'm sorry for interrupting… you?"

The husband takes the tossed lifeline. "It's alright."

It's not alright.

"I…" He stares at her too long in this quietness, all before asking her directly his own question. "Have you read the letters that your family has sent you?"

There's an even more awkward silence as Sophia really takes that implication into consideration, letting the confusion draw her eyes wide and her jaw open. "L-letters?"

"The Political Apparatus has collected all the letters you've received from your family during our time in Port Azuru. They were delivered to your Chief of Staff. Were there any specific influences within those letters informing you of your interests in the Dominion?"

A pile placed neatly into the corner safe of that antechamber of hers, locked by orders of Chief of Staff Elodie herself—to only be opened at the convenience of their master.

Yeah… we may have played a bit too much into the out of sight out of mind factor of those letters. Sophia nervously laughs to herself. Oops.

"I have not been able to… process those letters." She confesses proudly.

"Have you had no contact with the Imperium in these past nine days?" Zai continues to press.

"I-..." There's a moment where this young woman is torn between a competent lie and the inept truth, with her taking the easy compromise. "I have not found the time to, no."

Please don't think less of me for not being a good Princess Consort. Or a family member for that matter…

The Crown Prince of the Dominion tries to find the right words, the right conspiracies to process the implication of her answer. His jaw sets, and at last he exhales through his nose. "…I see."

Good enough. A small voice within Sophia Elise calmly smiles at his answer. Now is a good time to gracefully exit, leave our… husband to his duti…

No! A thought process jumps on that hesitation, grabbing the controls to this body with an insane desperation. NO! We are not letting this one go! We're getting our damned words of affirmation NO MATTER WHAT IT TAKES!