Calavera of Argentum was sitting on a tree branch, legs swinging slightly as the wind curved around her, caressing her face and her tightly-bound hair (quite unfairly tight, in her professional opinion). She kept her eyes closed and simply listened - to the singing birds, to the rustling trees, to the scuttling servants running about the castle like headless chickens because they, as usual forgot to check up a tree.

Her sereneness vanished and she giggled, purely because of habit and the fact that Mother had trained her out of snorting like her brother (yes, that was exactly what she had said, thank you very much, and Calavera would never left Dimone forget it) at a fairly young age, if only because Princesses were supposed to be polite in public. Calavera would rather not, but then, some things had to be acquiesced to for others to be overlooked, as she'd learned over the years.

"Princess!" A servant shouted desperately.

Calavera chuckled again, her laugh small and quiet enough that it didn't carry.

But, of course, good things never did last.

“When will you stop playing these tricks, Cally?” Prince Dimone of Argentum asked a tad too loudly as he hoisted himself up to her level with the ease of someone who had built his strength over more than a decade of swordsmanship and exercise.

Cally, on the other hand, had not, choosing her various adventures over boring lessons to build her own muscles. Or, as Dimone liked to call it, the lack thereof. Just for that, Cally stuck out a tongue at her brother. "Not until I absolutely must, of course," She told him tartly, not moving an inch.

Dimone snorted - because of course he knew exactly what Cally loved to tease him about and still couldn't stop himself - and reached out to tap her on the forehead. Cally immediately gripped the branch tighter, even though she knew that, logically, after the first time, he wasn't going to actually push her off. But tell that to her body because instincts were hard to break away from. "Continue acting this way and you're going to get saddled with the most boring of all possible marriage partners, you know."

Cally made a face. "Is this really the time, brother?"

"If you're reacting this much?" He asked playfully, automatically. "Of course."

Cally groaned, reaching out to push back, but she only ended up disturbing her own balance and she flailed for a second, a couple of locks from her black hair coming loose and springing in front of her face like the frizzy mess they tended to become when Kaleena didn't wrestle them into submission every morning (or die trying). "I hate you," She told Dimone the second she was stable, even though her brother had immediately reached out a hand to help.

"Such a pity," He drawled. "And to think, I was considering helping you escape from the wedding."

Cally raised an eyebrow in his direction. "You'd do that anyway," She told him. "Because if you don't, I will surely drive him mad, first." She thought about it. "Or he'd drive me out, and then we'd be back to me living in the castle, and then, brother dearest," She added, letting her voice fall to a sickly sweet tenor that always threatened Dimone so. "I will have had all the time to plan revenge that is much, much worse than anything you have yet experienced at my hands."

Dimone's smirk fell. "I hate you," He echoed.

Cally smiled prettily. "You love me."

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"Rulan knows why," He muttered, close enough that she got the tail end. "Anyway, you do know you're hiding from an official summons, right?"

Cally shrugged one shoulder. "Official is only official when it is not just us four. Mother said Father only wanted a family dinner."

Dimone scoffed. "Mother said Father ordered a family dinner," He corrected.

Cally pursed her lips and looked away. "Yes, well," She said, her voice even but her heart hammering as her eyes lighted upon the castle she had called home for as long as she'd been alive, glittering in all it's massive glory as it rose high in the sky, it's massive turrets kissing the clouds. One of those towers held her second room, and it was the only place she could be alone - well, other than up a tree, but the second option was sometimes marred by Dimone, so it wasn't exactly alone. "He ought to have remembered I don't take well to orders."

Dimone inhaled sharply beside her. "Cally-"

"I didn't ask for a lecture," She snapped.

There was a moment of silence, and then her brother huffed. "I wasn't going to give you one."

Cally swiveled to stare at him incredulously.

"Not about Father," He corrected immediately, then rubbed the back of his uncovered neck, something he only ever did when he was nervous and alone except for Cally. He had only ever done it once in front of their parents, and that had been enough.

Cally kicked out her legs and watched them fall, the barest hint of her bright red shoes catching the light before hiding back under the layers of skirts she wore above her riding outfit. She had intended to wear only the garments needed for riding this morning, intending on a full day out in the fields (admittedly, not least for she had heard of the King's return the night before), but Kaleena had slipped up and mentioned the very person she was avoiding wanted to see her.

She ended up having to wear a dress.

"You know," Dimone continued pleasantly, pulling her out of her thoughts. "He's not that bad."

Cally shrugged again. "Do I look like I care?" She asked immediately, then deflated. "It doesn't matter," She corrected. "I'd actually have to spend time with him to know that."

"Why don't you?"

Cally's throat felt swollen, and she continued to look at the castle instead of her brother, her eyes burning even without reason.

Their father had returned from battle three years ago to much fanfare for he had returned triumphant. Cally had been at the forefront of that welcome, and all she'd gotten for practically one year of endless effort and excited hope had been a cold look and a turn of his face.

Alfred Argentum had spurned his daughter, and in the year since, hadn't even bothered to apologize. No, forget apologies - the King hadn't even bothered to talk to her! Cally wouldn't even have minded, except every couple of days before he had returned, she'd slunk her way to her mother's chambers and asked her what her father was like, her own memory of the man spotty and patched, and Isera Argentum had always said that he was kind. Loving. Fatherly.

He had not been any of that.

And now it was too late to try. Not when he was gone more often than not.

And yes, the King and Queen had divided up the duties and responsibilities of their domain, and yes, her Father had more to do with the external conditions of the kingdom, but she had excused that for years. When he'd obviously taken this as a chance to stay as far away from Cally as possible, well.

She'd gotten the implications.

"'Tis none of your business," She told Dimone stiffly. "But I suppose I do feel a tad famished. I shall join everyone for dinner, after all. If Father has anything to say to me, he may do so at this time." Without waiting for a no doubt chiding remark about how if she was going to give in anyway, she might as well have saved everyone the trouble and done it earlier, Cally slipped from her place, hooked one arm around a well-positioned branch, and then shimmied down the tree, uncaring of how her skirts hitched up.

She landed on the ground with a thump of boots upon dust, and straightened, starting to walk in the direction of the castle, where her parents awaited.