Daemon & Sunny Ch. 07

"...Could I have a serious discussion with you, Sunny?" Armon asked her the next day, after Daemon had left for a morning appointment. They had an hour before she was due in Court, so Sunny gestured for Armon to join her at her desk.

"Sure. I was actually going to ask to have a discussion with you, too," she returned.

"Really? What about?" the affable man asked, settling himself in the other chair and crossing his legs neatly.

"I need a gown suitable for attending the Marriage Mart Ball." She might have had to be careful what to call it during the Council meeting, but Sunny knew Armon preferred the more honest title for the affair.

He sucked in a breath, grimacing. "—Well, that's going to be a little bit difficult. You see, Sunny, the Consort's notallowed to attend. None of the concubines are, simply by ancient tradition, but the Consort is specifically forbidden to attend by law. That's because the Consort is the beloved of the Sovereign, and the objective of the Formal Familial Ball is to introduce His Majesty to eligible bride-candidates. It's considered an impediment to an arranged marriage if the king is too busy thinking of his beloved to pay any attention to anyone else. Besides, all of the attendants are either royal or noble, by tradition. You're a Free Citizen, which isn't quite the same thing in the eyes of Astorran tradition."

"...What if the Consort is herself royal or noble? Wouldn't she have the right to attend under that guise?" Sunny asked.

"Well...technically, she couldn't be barred from attending, if she attended as a noble or a royal. But it's never really come up, because it's considered bad form to make someone of royal or noble birth a mere concubine." Armon paused, then gave her a wry look, clasping his hands around his knee. "But that does bring me to my own question. Sunny, sweetie...your beautiful but highly unusual freckles seem to be echoed by certain marks I've just noticed on His Majesty's own skin....reversed but complimentary markings that form 'white freckles' on his gorgeous, tanned hide.

"Now, you should know this, too, as an Imperium historian, because it's somewhat known among the better-educated circules," Armon started to babble, "if not often widely discussed, that, erm...I can't believe I'm suggesting this," he muttered self-deprecatingly, shaking his head slowly. "I mean, how could it possibly have happened? I—"

Sunny put him out of his misery. "Let me guess: you were wondering if our paired marks might have anything to do with the way the Empress and Emperor usually have some sort of complimentary, paired marking on their own bodies after they've been selected by the Matrix...right?"

"...Right," he sighed, visibly both relieved and uncomfortable at having the notion aired. "I mean it's a silly suggestion, isn't it? The last Emperor and Empress lived over forty years ago! No one's seen hide nor hair of the fabled Matrix since then. It's a very silly idea..." He looked away, sighing. "I'm an old fool. It was a stupid observation."

"Actually, I'd say it was a rather astute one."

Armon blinked and did a double-take, looking at her sharply. "An...astute...one?"

"Yep. And you'donly be a fool if you discussed this with anyone else, at this point in time," Sunny confirmed with a slight grimace of her own. He blinked, and she drove the point home, no-holds-barred. "Yes, Armon, your suppositions are correct. I am the White Dragon, the Empress-Elect. Daemon is the Black Dragon, Emperor-Elect. Of course, he hasn't exactlyrealized this, yet...and we're still working out a compromise in how we should consider and treat each other," Sunny added calmly as the Chief Eunuch gaped at her, grateful her private quarters were guaranteed surveillance-free, usually through daily sweeps of hand-picked counter-espionage teams. She'd come to trust Armon and his staff, over the few weeks. She'd certainly come to like the andro-oriented man, and thought of him now as a friend. "I alsowon't tell him unless and until we're equals in each other's eyes. If Daemon figures it out on his own...well, we're almost there, anyway, so it won't matter as much as it would have a few weeks ago, when I myself first figured out what was happening."

"How...how is this possible?" Armon demanded, eyeing her askance. "How did you...?"

Her sense of discretion kept a lid on the details of that secret, but she did give him the general timeline.

"I acquired the, uh, seed of the Matrix within me shortly before I was kidnapped by the pirates who stole me and sold me on the slave-markets. But I didn't know it, at first. The Matrix then selected Daemon for my partner shortly after we were left alone together—pretty much from the moment we first touched—and it has been growing within us ever since. At its current rate, it will probably be ready for completion by the Marriage Mart at the latest...which would be an excellent moment for me to step forward and assert my place as his intended wife."

"Why don't you just tell him right now?" he asked her, curiosity lacing his tone, mixed wth confusion and puzzlement.

She'd given that some thought. "For one, he needs to come to realize it for himself. I've tried to access the powers of the Matrix, and I can only do minor things at the moment; we are not yet complete. Ithink we are already fully protected, physically...but I cannot be completely sure. If Daemon knew, he might want to immediately assert my rightful position at his side, Armon, and that would put us in the spotlight," she told him. "Which could in turn—quite conceivably—put us in danger from those wanting to either attempt to capture and torture or kill us for the secrets of the Matrix, or to 'prove' our indestructibility as proof that we do, indeed have the seed of the Matrix within us. And if wearen't yet indestructible...well, I like being alive, intact, and unharmed a lot more than the idea of finding out otherwise.

"There are other factors, too," Sunny continued with a sigh. "I have certain suspicions about the Ruyikans, and the troubles plaguing Daemon's predecessors, but I haven't been able to prove anything. I think Queen Astrida knows what really happened, and so I have to wait until she's here, on Astorra, before I can try probing her mind for the truth. But since I don't have full command of the Matrix just yet, I can't get anything more than impressions from the minds of the people around me, including from her ambassador. All of the accounts I've researched on the powers of the Matrix point to the telepathic properties being a lot stronger and more precise than mere 'impressions'," she added. "If Daemon and I have enemies lurking in the wings, now is definitely not the time to draw them out into the open. We're just not ready for it."

"I see... So, you're really the Empress-Elect? Can you, erm...prove it?" Armon asked her carefully, his expression somewhere between askance, apologetic, and dubious. "No offense or anything, Sunny, but you just can't go around claiming something like that without backing it up!"

Nodding, waving off his apology, Sunny held out her hand towards one of the blank datarods on her desk. She willed it to rise. It did, wobbling a little. Narrowing her eyes, she focused her will...and the crystaline rod altered. One end thinned and elongated. The other end thickened and turned into a transparent blob. A second blob formed closer to the midway point. A bit more concentration, and the midway blob formed itself into a tear-drop, slightly serrated leaf-shape. The blob at the end rippled and formed ridges as the former datacrystal rotated under the touch of her mind. Eventually, the ripples turned into recognizable petal-shapes. A last bit of concentration, and small, hooked projections extended out from the stem, thorns to compliment the half-bloomed rose she had created.

Releasing it from her grip, she let the tough crystal drop to her desktop, where it bounced off the leather-padded blotter and clattered on the polished-wood surface. Telekinesis was a trick of some of the psychic races, and a rare few individuals from those races reportedly could grow and even alter natural crystal formations...but there were no reports of anyone who could alter the artificial material of a datacrystal, since it was a special polymer, not an actual mineral. Picking up the rose, Sunny offered it to him. Armon accepted it wordlessly, testing the thorns, running his fingertips along the edge of the leaf and over the half-budded petals.

The base of the stem still had the terminal-end of a datarod. Picking up one of the datapads on her desk, Armon inserted the base of the crystaline rose into the port slot, and activated the pad. Data blinked onto the screen, detailing a series of notes on the powers of the Empresses of over half a millenia ago. The rod was still completely functional...which should have been impossible, once it had been warped out of its proper configuration.

Finally, he lifted his eyes to hers; reverence shown in their hazel depths. "Your Majesty..."

"—Please, just call me Sunny," she dismissed. "Even after we ascend, Armon, call me Sunny unless it's absolutely necessary to be formal. You're my friend, and I don't believe in distancing myself from my friends."

That made him smile, almost shyly. Twirling the rose between his fingertips, Armon dipped his head in a formal, if abbreviated, bow. "...Alright, Sunny. I'm glad I got to know you, first. Wow...the Pax Imperium has a new Emperor and Empress again...wow!" His hazel eyes widened sharply, focusing on her clothes, a simple summerweight tunic and shorts. "Oh, good heavens! This simply will not do!

"You look like a wreck, and we'll have to find and make a whole new wardrobe suitable for an Empress, and there's so much to do and less than two weeks in which to do it!" Jumping up from his chair, he hurried towards the door, then turned back to her with an accusatory look. "—Why couldn't you have told me thisearlier? Do you know how long it'll take to arrange everything, and to do it discreetly enough that no one will know until your big debut at the Ball? Oh...oh my goodness...!"

The Chief Eunuch slumped against the doorway of her study, clutching at his chest, eyes wide as he stared at her. Alarmed, Sunny rose from her chair. "What is it, Armon? What's wrong?"

"By Astor's sweet little fanny!I get to play fairy godfather to the Empress at her debut ball! This is just like all those fancy fairytales I used to read as a child!" The smile he beamed at her was positively radiant, then he whirled and darted out of the doorway, shouting over his shoulder, "—Don't you worry about a thing, Sunny! You'll practically be agoddess, by the time I'm done with you!"

Dear Natura, what have I gotten myself into? Sunny wondered, as visions of endless milk-baths, body-oilings and gown-fittings lurched into her head.For that matter...what are 'fairytales'?

...

"Ms. Dannonee?"

The familiar voice turned Sunny's head. She hadn't heard that voice since...since the pirate attack, that was when. Saunders. Eduard Saunders, the younger of the two brothers. As her honorguards stiffened, Sunny turned her head and peered at the lean, balding man. The last she had seen him, he had been carted off into the male pens back at that slaver's trade-center. "Mr. Saunders? You're here on Astorra? How did you get here?"

"I..." His eyes crawled over her face, taking in its nearly unfreckled state...and the distinct, unique gathering of little brown spots at her hairline. His eyes looked a little glazed, as he took in the changes in her appearance.

Sunny's instincts sharpened. Instinctively, she dove her mind forward, into his. The impressions she could sense were growing stronger with each passing day, and today was thankfully no exception. A cruel master, some sort of pirate or bandit...the funerary box, the one with the ouroboros on its torn lid...a circle of fellow-pirates attempting to close around their current position...a wish-thought of him personally beating the secrets of the Matrix out of her, since she was clearly now marked by its presence, and of using the powers he'd gain from her as her somehow forcefully destined mate to brutalize his captors, and anyone else who got in his way.

Appalled, Sunny masked her dismay. She had no idea what to do about what she read in his mind, and decided to bide her time, to see what he wanted. As her expression remained carefully polite, he cleared his throat and spoke carefully. "You're looking...well. I understand you're now, um...a paid courtesan to the local king?"

Well, at least he tried to be tactful, and didn't call me a 'whore'. "I'm the Royal Consort, yes. What are you up to, these days?" Sunny asked him courteously, stalling so she could think. Or rather, so she could continue to sense his thoughts. There was something not quite right about her current position in the hallway, not quite perfect for the pirates' ambush needs...but unfortunately, Saunders only knew he needed to get her to the next junction, as opposed to staying at this one. "How did you get free? Or did you?"

"Well, it's a funny little story. Why don't we keep walking?" he offered, gesturing in the direction she had been headed. "You look like you...and your companions...were headed somewhere," he added, glancing at the uniformed quartet of guards flanking her. "I wouldn't want to delay you any further."

What was that code-phrase they said I should use, if I thought I was in danger? Sunny wracked her memory. Her gaze fell on a nearby display panel. She smiled after a moment, a cordial, polite smile, speaking the code-phrase. "Things are just fine as they are. I actually wanted to read this bulletin board," she added, gesturing to the side as her guards stiffened slightly. "So there's no need to go any further at the moment. Actually, I'm having a lot of fun, attending the university," she added casually, shifting a little closer to the panel. That unfortunately brought her closer to Saunders, but her guards closed in, two of them coming close enough to stop Saunders if he tried anything, the other two guarding her back.

He noticed their protective stance. "Your, ah, companions seem very protective of you."

"Well, of course they are," Sunny demurred. "Their job is to castrate any man who dares to touch me, and to behead anyone who harms me. Those are vibroswords, at their hips, and blasters, and who knows how many other weapons—ooh, look, someone has a sports hovercar for sale! I really should get one of those. At least now I've got the salary to pay for it," she added, stalling for more time as she read the notice board. She had no idea how long it would take a security team to to intercept the pirates and rescue her, but she didn't want to seem like she was artificially delaying things. "It was a great opportunity, working on that dig for you, sir, but frankly I'm earning a lot more in my current employment.

"I'd never have been able to afford something with a moon-roof and a genuine praxian-leather interior before now," she added, squinting and reading the notice that had caught her eye. "At least, not on the salary you paid me. Not even a 'gently used model' being sold for a pittance at a university. I'll bet the seats are stained, or ripped or something. Or probably there's a funny smell... Of course, when I was working for you, I was doing the work I was originally educated to do, and I did enjoy it very much. And I'm being allowed to finish my degree by His Majesty, which is a very nice thing for him to permit. There's nothing worse than someone who's all brawn and no brains in bed, as a friend of mine once said.

"I've even got a bit of a job working on his Council, as an advisor on the nature of the Imperium. Still, I miss handling historical articfacts. The closest I'd get to that now are some of theobjects d'art at the palace, and the only dirt I'd ever clean off of them would be the dust of some attic. Presuming I could get a servant to let go of it and let me do the 'excavation and cleanup' work myself."

Rhythmic noises approached in the distance. It evolved into the tromping sounds of many feet. They emerged as a column of uniformed guards, clad in the stark white and black of the Royal Guard as they marched into view. Saunders blinked at their approach, then looked at her. "What...what are they here for? You don't normally have this big of an escort, do you?"

The head guardsman stopped next to Saunders and dropped his gloved hand on the slimmer man's shoulder, making her former employer wince. "Is this man giving you trouble, Consort?"

Sunny abruptly realized she didn't know what to do with Saunders. He apparently believed she had been invested with the Matrix, something she didn't want widely known just yet. He also had associates waiting to kidnap her, brutal sorts who, if the impressions she was getting from him were true, were waiting to beat the secrets of Imperial power out of her, too. She'd acted on impulse, calling the guards in to rescue her, when she could've simply retraced her steps and taken a different route out of the university building, avoiding the ambush. A stupid mistake.

But then again, that would've left them free to come after me on another day, without any advanced warning through Saunder's presence; they could attack without warning, and then where would I be? Peering into Saunder's eyes, Sunny dug for more information. She got numbers.

"...There are five men surrounding the junction up ahead, and two more waiting in a hovervan out in the parking garage; all seven of them are armed and should be considered dangerous," Sunny related, holding her former employer's gaze. "Having weapons on the university grounds without a special license to do so should be sufficient reason for their arrest. This man is an unwilling accomplice to their intent to kidnap me and hold me for ransom. I want you to take him into protective custody and hold him out of communication with anyone for two weeks, then arrange for his deportation offworld. Preferrably to an Imperium world. Give him a change of clothes and a thousand creds when you send him away, and take it out of my personal account. We used to be business associates, so I owe him that much.

"It's been nice chatting with you, Saunders," Sunny added, gesturing to her original contingent of bodyguards to head with her in the opposite direction of the ambush. "I hope your brother and other partners are alright."

"How... You really do have the Matrix in you! The markings on your face—" Saunders gasped, as most of the squadron marched off to take care of the intruders.

"—Please! What a load ofcraker," Sunny shot back with an impatient roll of her eyes and a sardonic drawl. "The marks were just a bit of fancy resequencing done to make me look more exotic and jack up the slaver's profits, that's all."

"But, how did you know about the ambush we'd...?" Saunders' voice trailed out as he realized what he'd just admitted, potentially making him an accomplice.

"Just because my degree is aimed at the past doesn't mean I don't have access to modern surveillance methods. I don't hold it against you, Saunders," she added gently as he blinked and frowned, thrown off track by her subterfuge. "You thought one thing, based on the information we were uncovering, but that it actually turned out to be something else wasn't your fault."

"But, it had to be there! All the evidence pointed to that wreckage!" he insisted as the guardsman continued to keep one hand on his shoulder, a warning to not resist his pseudo-arrest.

"Oh, it was there, alright...but it had already moved on to a new host. It happened back when the box was originally damaged," Sunny improvised. "Remember the torn lid? My research suggests it had to move on to a new host at that point in time...so either it's gone dormant, or it went to a pairing who had no interest in revealing themselves to the rest of the galaxy. It happens, now and again," she added, shrugging. "Not everyone is interested in power and politics."