Mireille struggled to speak. "Why... I mean... what are you—"
"Doing in Orsyna?" Adrian smirked at her, dark eyes twinkling. "I heard you would be here, with him." He glanced over her shoulder at the Valeronnese Prince.
"But your mother," she protested awkwardly. "Y-Your sister—"
"They are both safe and sound in Wintervale, where my sister governs as Duchess in Adela's absence. I came to the coronation in her stead." He shot a grim look at the royal couple. "Rowena is quite happy, and though my mother constantly complains about the cold, she's happy too."
Mireille blinked, staring at him uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. "Do you live there?"
"I do now," he said, nodding. "'Twas the strangest thing. I came home from war, committed to resuming my duties to a certain lady, only to find she'd been replaced by her own seneschal."
"Godwin?" she asked, eyes wide. "How is Sir Godwin?"
Adrian chuckled. "You mean the new Lord Roseward? He discharged me from my duties, citing cost, and then married the youngest daughter of the Foxmeres. A sixteen-year-old, mind you."
Mireille felt the nausea swell in her throat, but she said nothing, letting him continue his story.
"Still weary from war and road, I mounted my horse once more and set out for Wintervale, where my sister had somehow become a Viscountess and was now living in a grand castle in service of a Princess." He chuckled again. "I offered my services as knight, and once more, found myself refused. But since my family was no longer in need of coin, I whiled away the hours hunting, fishing, drinking and singing in taverns like a fat country lord."
Mireille was suddenly confused. "And you gave all that up because...?"
His gaze softened as his eyes met hers. "That's no life for a knight, my lady."
Her hand flew to her pause bracelet. Her voice trembled when she spoke.
"Computer, why are you doing this to me?" Her eyes threatened to tear as she looked at his face, olive skin paled in winter, wavy hair black as night. Just being near him brought back all the memories of warmth and safety, and the impossibly high standard he set.
"I can assure you, Player, this is not my doing."
Mireille's whole body shook as deeply buried emotions bubbled to the surface. "So help me, if you say this is random—"
"It is definitely not a random occurrence," the computer replied. "This character deliberately traveled all the way to Orsyna to see you, entirely of his own volition."
Mireille stopped breathing, even as her body kept trembling. He's just a hologram, she told herself. She then remembered her newfound fandom would see this footage, and forced herself into composure.
"Resume game," she whispered. She managed a smile. "Ever the knight, I see. So you heard about me all the way in Wintervale?"
"Rumors have spread across Everen that a certain Vicomtesse is poised to become the next Queen of Valeronne," he said neutrally. "If true, I congratulate you. Valeronne would be blessed to finally have such a kind and generous ruler." He glanced over her shoulder again at Aurélien, who was busy drinking and talking with Vladimir. "And he? Is he a good man? I've heard conflicting reports."
Mireille managed to stop the giggle right before it spilled out. "Sir Adrian!" she playfully chided him.
"Like many princes, Aurélien is said to be a child in a man's body," Adrian grumbled. "Is it true?"
"He is the Crown Prince of Valeronne," she reminded him firmly. "And his mother has decided he is to wed an Easterner."
Adrian relaxed. "So the two of you are...?"
"I'm his minder," Mireille confessed, shrugging in defeat. "He was becoming too familiar with my cousin Thibault's wife, so I was tasked with distracting him until he is safely betrothed."
Adrian didn't like that at all. "'Tis a task far beneath you, my lady."
She shrugged again. "We all serve, Sir Adrian. We just do so in different ways."
"And after that, what then?" the tall knight asked.
"I suppose I'll return to Auremer," Mireille said. She hadn't really thought it through. "My cousin Lucien has taken the reins of the family business. He is young, and requires a lot of guidance."
Adrian took one small step forward, meeting her eyes. "I should very much like to see Auremer, my lady," he said softly. He bowed his head. "If you would once more allow me the pleasure of your company."
***
Fuck Aurélien.
She had barely pressed "Upload" before the comments started pouring in.
Matter of fact, fuck the whole d’Aubremont family, the first commenter continued. Renaud is a spineless little shit. Didn't even lift a finger against the Duke Amaury de Montverre cuz he owed so much money.
I mean, I get it, another commenter said. On the one hand, Aurélien comes with a throne or whatever, but on the other, he's clearly a fucking douche, which is probably why the programmers never made him a canon romance option.
Could y'all PLEASE stop telling this girl to choose the fine man over the other fine man??? yet another commenter bemoaned. I am #TeamBoth. These are holograms, sis. We listen and we don't judge.
The gamer laughed aloud. It was a tempting notion, of course, but she knew Sir Adrian would never agree to such an arrangement.
All I can say, a commenter pointed out, is that I've romanced Sir Adrian, like, half a dozen times now, and he's never looked at me like that. How did you get him to forget about Adela?
She halted, unsure of how to answer that.
Adrian had once called her a dream, and even now, still praised her kindness and generosity. He didn't travel to Orsyna for Adela; he only traveled once he heard Mireille was there. He cared for her. It was in every look and every word, and while she was sure something had happened with Adela, the gamer realized that it didn't matter now. She had achieved her original goal. Sir Adrian cared for her and he was willing to follow her all the way back South, to Auremer.
She suddenly realized that despite the splendors of Saint-Véronne and Solyena, she was getting tired of selfish royals and ambitious nobles. She wanted to be free of prying eyes and judgmental gossip. She didn't want to be Queen of Valeronne. She wanted to be Mireille Thornmere du Maurier, living in her humble estate by the sea.
***
"Who was that knight you were talking to?" Aurélien asked her, when she next resumed the simulation. They were walking in the royal gardens at Solyena with the other guests. Wrapped in cloaks and draped in furs, they watched the sun dip low in the west.
"Sir Adrian Thornmere," she told him honestly. "He was captain of my guard in Westervale. His family used to serve Adela's."
"My God," Aurélien snickered. "Is there anyone you don't know?"
She shrugged. "Westervale was a small barony. Everyone knew everyone."
"Do you miss it?"
She slowly shook her head. "I miss Auremer."
He nodded stiffly. "I received word from ma mere. The envoy has left the Wellen Isles and we are to return to Valeronne immediately after the coronation." He paused. "Will you come to my room tonight, or shall I come to yours?"
Mireille was appalled. "Your Highness!"
"You're not in the mood?" Aurélien asked. He shrugged. "It was a long journey, I suppose. 'Tis a shame we didn't bring the Avenish woman with us. You could have sent her in your stead."
Mireille stopped walking as the nausea swelled in her chest. Yeah... no. I definitely don't want to be Queen of Valeronne.
A courtier interrupted them. "Madame Vicomtesse?" he asked. "Her Majesty requests your presence."
Mireille snorted. Of course she does. She bowed to Aurélien but didn't wait to be dismissed.
"Your Highness."
***
Adela had moved to a private sitting room, with only Alys to attend her. Adela was sitting while Alys appeared to have been pacing. Both women looked up when Mireille walked into the room.
The Viscountess bowed to the Grand Princess and didn't bother acknowledging Alys.
"Your Majesty," Mireille greeted, with genuine humility this time. As far as she was concerned, this chapter of her story was over. Once she left Orsyna, she never intended to speak to either of these women again.
"You've changed, Vicomtesse," Adela greeted wryly, lightly rubbing her belly.
"As have you, Majesty," Mireille replied, nodding towards the Grand Princess's belly.
"Is it because you're about to be Queen of Valeronne?" Alys suddenly asked, her eyes and voice a little too eager.
Both Mireille and Adela shot her a baffled look. They stared at her for a moment, then it hit Mireille.
She wants to leave Orsyna. She wants to leave Adela just like she left me. She thinks I could be her ticket out of here.
"No," Mireille said, relishing every word. "The rumors are untrue, my lady. His Highness is to marry a granddaughter of Empress Ursel. The girl is already en route to Valeronne."
Alys's face and shoulders fell, provoking Adela's ire.
"If Solyena is not to your liking, my lady," the Princess snorted, "you can always return to Sleetford. You're still their Countess, after all. That old estate of yours should be ready by now."
"No thank you, Your Majesty," Alys replied solemnly, finally taking a seat and pouring herself a goblet of mead. "I would never leave you."
"You might as well," Adela drawled, shrugging. "My family has finally arrived, and now that I am Grand Princess, I know they'll never leave me." She chuckled.
"Your husband is very handsome," Mireille remarked. "Though even if he were not, I know you'd be blessed with beautiful children."
Adela raised an eyebrow, surprised by this new version of Mireille. "What did they do to you down there?" she muttered, reaching for a goblet of water. "Every word out of your mouth actually sounds honest."
"Many things happened," Mireille admitted. "I returned home, found it in ruins, and slowly rebuilt it with my family. I became an aunt." She smiled, remembering her nephew's adorable face. "And I've been entrusted with the sacred task of convincing His Highness to do the right thing." As soon as she made that up, she realized it was true.
Adela gave her an incredulous look. "What? Marry some unwashed Easterner that he's never met?"
Mireille drew herself up, back straight, voice firm. "Your Majesty, I recall you once resented your own marriage. For all I know, you still resent it. But I must remind you that by marrying a foreigner and leaving your home, you effectively saved it. Your sacrifice saved thousands of Avenish lives.
"I came home to a ruin. The things I saw..." She hoarsely trailed off, remembering the crumbling buildings and people in the streets desperately seeking food. "Valeronne is a mess. All of Orvienne is still suffering. Half of my servants are orphans, Your Majesty." She didn't miss how Adela protectively clutched her womb. "King Renaud does not have the resources to help his own people. But if Aurélien marries a Wellenish princess, his sacrifice will save thousands of lives."
Adela looked down for a moment, her breathing heavy. When she looked up at Mireille, her jaw clenched.
"I hated you," she admitted. "It was easy to hate you. I couldn't hate my husband. I couldn't hate my family. They weren't even around for me to hate. And I couldn't hate Alys or Rowena because they were all I had. So I hated you." Adela leaned back, tilting her head to the side. "You tried to tell me. Your land was being ripped apart by war, your family was scattered across countries... you were suffering worse than I was, and I didn't want to hear it. Because I needed to hate you," she rasped, as though something deep within her had finally broken free. "After everything you did for me, all I could give you was my hate."
Mireille's own jaw clenched. "I could take it."
Adela nodded briskly. "So be it. Let this hatred be ended."
Mireille bowed, ready to leave. "Your Majesty."
She left the sitting room, feeling like a weight was lifted. She no longer felt guilt about changing Adela's fate; she was convinced now more than ever it was the right thing to do.
"Mireille?"
She stopped walking, and slowly turned around. Mireille's brow furrowed when she saw Alys behind her.
"I'm sorry too," the Countess said awkwardly. She fidgeted at first, before tucking her hands behind her back. "I hated you too. Actually, I hated all of you and I didn't really have a reason why."
Mireille sighed. She was too tired for this. "Alys, you're a Countess in your own right."
"Of a small wretched town in a cold wretched duchy," Alys protested, eyes tearing. "My lands barely produce a proper income. Adela promised me a royal match but... I don't think I can live here for the rest of my life." She gulped and looked down. "I miss my home."
"Then go home," Mireille said, shrugging. "I did."
"You're rich," Alys grumbled. "My family is not so fortunate."
Mireille mulled that over for a moment before saying, "Then I suppose you have to ask what you're willing to sacrifice to help them."
She left without another word, leaving Alys to her decision. Mireille was done meddling in the fates of others.
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