Previously: Random
She moved through the sea of frozen holograms, heart pounding, nostrils flaring, eyes shooting daggers at a computer she couldn't see.
"Fifth in line," she hissed. "I chose Vladimir for Adela because you told me he was fifth in line to the throne. Computer, what the hell happened to fifth in line?"
"I also advised you that the fates of these characters are largely randomized," came that annoying voice from the void.
Her eyes bulged as her voice bordered on shrill. "How can Vladimir just take over Orsyna when there are four whole people ahead of him!"
"Aleksandr's children are very young, whereas Vladimir is an adult and battle-tested," the computer reminded her.
Mireille's voice quivered. "But the line of succession. I thought royalty cared about that stuff. I've read how they actually went to war over it."
"It is true that even when a successor is too young to rule, some royal dynasties choose to honor the line of succession, typically by installing a temporary regent," the computer explained. "But Orsynian culture places the good of the many over the ambitions of the few. Under Orsynian law, the noble assembly may set aside a minor heir and elect an adult member of the royal house when national stability demands it. This is how they've kept their economy thriving, while the royal houses of other nations are mired in debt."
"But I'm supposed to be Queen of Valeronne!" Mireille raged. "They were supposed to bow to me! Adela, Alys, Rowena, even my fucking cousins—they were all supposed to go back to bowing to me!"
"It is true that if you become Queen, it will place you on equal footing with the new Grand Princess of Orsyna. But rest assured, the others will still bow."
At least I wouldn't have to bow to Adela ever again, Mireille grumbled to herself. "I suppose that will have to suffice," she bit out. She cast a scathing glance upon the holograms surrounding her. "Resume game."
***
"Is my lady well?" Prince Aurélien asked. Mireille had the honor of being seated next to him this evening, and Edith next to her. The King and Queen of Valeronne sat but a few feet away, but might as well have been on another planet. "You seem more...subdued than when I met you this morning."
"Grand Prince Aleksandr is dead," she said quietly, struggling to muster any enthusiasm for the evening.
"Did you know him?" Aurélien asked, stuffing a bite of braised goose into his mouth.
"I knew his sister-in-law," she said. "Adela was one of my ladies in when I lived in Westervale."
The Prince was surprised. "And did you have a hand in her elevation?"
Mireille slowly shook her head. "Her family is of royal descent. The King of Avenholt chose her for Vladimir." She looked down. "I wonder how she fares."
"She's now the Grand Princess of Orsyna," Aurélien chuckled. "I would say she fares quite well."
"Adela doesn't like the cold," Mireille murmured distantly. "She detested Wintervale."
Aurélien nodded, understanding. "It is true the Orsynian domain is bitterly cold, but the capital city of Solyena is like a glittering jewel against the snow."
She looked at him. "You've been there?"
"I have," he confirmed, nodding again. "And will have to again. My parents are sending me to attend the coronation. You know, I'm selecting a retinue to accompany me north. I was going to invite Marguerite and her husband, but I doubt they'd want to travel with a newborn child." He smiled. "I suppose I'll just have to settle for your company, my lady."
Mireille's first instinct was to politely decline. She wasn't ready to see Adela again, not without a crown on her head.
But then she thought about it. What if she showed up with a crown at her side? She might have to bow to Adela once more, but the sight of Aurélien on her arm might get the tongues wagging. They might even spark rumors of a possible marriage.
And just like that, her mood was restored.
"I would be honored to accompany Your Highness," Mireille replied, grinning.
***
She was invited to dine again the next night, the night after that, and the night after that. When the Crown Prince's interest seemed certain enough, Thibault invited Aurélien to dine at the ducal palace. Marguerite was conveniently indisposed, of course, but the new Duke spared no expense on the intimate dinner.
"I understand Your Highness will soon be journeying north," Thibault said, speaking in Valeronnese and raising his glass goblet of Calderran wine. "I had thought to hire an Orsynian cook for this evening."
"I'm glad you didn't," Aurélien said, shuddering. "The last time I was there I ate some pickled herring abomination and never recovered from the experience. And don't get me started on the wine."
"Any news from the isle of Wellenmark?" the Duke asked. "I heard Empress Ursel is planning to send an envoy."
"You heard correctly," Aurélien replied sourly, cutting into his roasted peacock, while Mireille and Edith subtly exchanged looks. "Mother is insisting on a Wellenish marriage, so Ursel is sending her two youngest granddaughters." He waved dismissively. "I can't remember their names, but I've heard nothing of their beauty so I already know what to expect: two peasant-looking wenches who smell of fermented cabbage and beetroot."
Edith laughed before she could stop herself, while Thibault smiled. "'Tis a shame Her Majesty cannot find you a proper Valeronnese beauty, Your Highness."
"Cannot?" Aurélien snorted. "More like will not. Her grandmother was some Wellenish battle maid, and even though her upbringing was entirely Valeronnese, she refuses to let that distant heritage die." He scowled. "I mean, who in their right mind would even claim that aloud?"
"The Empress must be offering an astronomical dowry to secure the match," Thibault mused.
Aurélien shook his head. "The dowry will be great, but I think this is more about my mother's idiotic, misguided notion of Wellenish pride."
While Thibault and Edith found the Prince amusing, Mireille liked him less and less as the evening wore on. She was fairly certain a Prince wasn't supposed to talk like this, especially about his own mother, the Queen.
But then she remembered... Aurélien was a spoiled brat, a child in a man's body, as Marguerite had once said. He drank endlessly, as evidenced by the way he guzzled his fifth goblet of wine. And now that he wasn't at court, he openly complained about everything.
It suddenly occurred to Mireille that this was the real reason Thibault invited her to Saint-Véronne. It wasn't because he needed an exciting, formidable woman to entice and possibly wed a Prince. He just needed someone to babysit a very annoying and, unfortunately, powerful man.
Mireille felt nauseous as the realization sank in. Because this is what Thibault really thinks of me.
She watched in growing disgust as Thibault and Edith laughed at the Prince's unseemly comments. Aurélien wasn't funny or witty in the slightest, but they laughed anyway, either because they were tipsy or they just wanted his favor. It was revolting.
I'm leaving here with something, Mireille said to herself, suddenly determined. If I have to put up with this loser, I'm getting something out of it.
An eternity later, when dinner finally ended, Mireille helped the drunk Prince up to his rooms. Predictably, he grabbed her wrist when she turned to leave.
"Stay with me, my lady," he said, eyes pleading.
She had no intention of actually sleeping with this man, but she also wasn't going to let the opportunity pass, not when they were alone in a candlelit bedchamber. With the quietly crackling hearth and the way the soft light fell upon the velvet drapes, the stage was set. She reached for her pause bracelet.
"Computer, fast forward to the Prince, shirtless and sound asleep."
The computer obliged, and when the scene reloaded, Aurélien was buried under the covers and snoring loudly. Mireille quietly shed her gown and crawled into bed next to him, sliding into his arms and pressing her forehead against his.
She closed her eyes and feigned sleep for a few minutes. When she felt she had sufficient evidence, she opened her eyes.
"Computer, save and exit game."
She left the simulation chamber, went back to her quarters and promptly posted an update to the Westervale forums.
Posting both footage and images, she began with her return to Auremer, her arrival in Saint-Véronne, dinners at the royal palace, dinner at the ducal palace, culminating with her being in bed with the Crown Prince of Valeronne.
Comments started trickling in seconds after she posted. Minutes later, they were pouring in.
Is that Aurélien? another asked. Like, THE Aurélien? I didn't even know you could romance him!!! I've never been allowed to breathe the same air as him!!!
Are you still playing as the Vicomtesse? How are you even still alive???
So you have your own house in Auremer? And your cousin is the new Duke of Orvienne? Which side quest is that???
This is so unfair. You mean I could've been living it up in Valeronne this whole friggin' time???
Is that the duke's palace in Saint-Véronne? The guards never let me in.
Oh my God, that room looks so romantic! Is that your chamber or his?
Was he good? one commenter asked, using the giant eyeballs emoji. Asking for a friend.
The gamer smiled. This almost made it all worth it. There was more than one way to hold court, after all. In The Barony of Westervale, she might be just a low-ranking Viscountess, but out here, on the forums, in this moment... she was Queen.
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