SIDENOTE: i will be adding more characters as they appear, if not sooner. i just saw all the new rules and i'm scared the NF police are gonna come after me :)  also, i stole the country name from a book i read, 'immanuel's veins' so it's not real. i don't think. but the same goes for all the places this takes place in.

as always, this is made up and not intended to sound like anything else. i do not own anything, blah blah blah. you know, the usual

Justin, The Crown Prince of Moldavia 

Beatrice, Duchessess of Westwood

Devon,  General of the Armed Forces of Moldavia

Queen Isabelle of Moldavia 

Stefan Luca, Romanian Ambassador

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Why wouldn't it?" The voice answered back.  "The plan is perfect. We've allowed for no errors, just as long as you do your part."

A lump swallowed. "Ok."

"Good." Eyes dart down the hallway. "Go."

The dark figure casted one last look at its accomplice before hurrying across the hall, hand hesitant on the door knob, a deep breath before twisting it open. Entering the room, completely silent, the figure moved slowly towards the massive bed situated in the center of the room. Another figure, presumable asleep, nestled under the covers. 

Paused at the foot of the bed, the intruder reached into their pocket and pulled out a vial of powder. Another quick look to the sleeping body before moving to the nightstand, they uncorked the small tube, eyes locked on the motionless man in the bed, and the contents were slowly dumped into the glass of water sitting beside the bed.

Slowly and as silently as they entered the room, the dark figure backed away from the bed and out of the room before letting out a breath. They turned their head in the direction to where they had only minutes ago left their partner. Eyes peered from the cracked doorway and dual nods were given.

It was done.

6 Months Earlier

"You are disgusting." Beatrice rolls her eyes and puts her fork down. "There is a time and place for your blood and entrails stories. Dinner is not that place."

From the head of the table, Justin laughs good naturally. "Aw come on now, you know he's embellishing to get a rise out of you."

"And it's working." She huffs.

"You are just too prissy for your own good." Devon's deep voice mutters across from her.

She narrows her eyes, obviously wanting to say something more but out of respect of present company she remains silent. Not only would it unwise to insult the crowned prince's commander in chief but the added bonus of Justin being her boyfriend and Devon being his best friend tends make things a little trickier.

Justin lays down his silverware and pushes back his chair. "I still find it impossible that you two ever dated."

Groaning and accepting the hand from Justin, "Please do not remind me." She tries to push the past from her mind.

"It was primary school." Devon follows behind, Justin leading the way into the parlor room. "Well before Bea.....let's just say it was before she became the woman standing before us today." He drops his eyes to her neckline.

"Manners." Her skin flushes.

"Devon." Justin warns taking a seat and accepting a glass of scotch from the butler before he makes himself discreet. "I would prefer to think of her without images of you two ever being more than mortal enemies."

Again, Beatrice blushes but hides her face behind a glass of wine. Her eyes dart quickly over to Devon. He sits on the small loveseat, seemingly taking up the whole space but in reality it's just his presence that seems so large. He's every bit the man you would expect to command a small army; strong and wide, a great deal taller than the average man, giving him the extra look of an overpowering man.

And he is just that. Never a physical bully in primary school, he was more cunning than anything else. Always able to undermine his enemy and come out victorious. After finishing college he joined the army and became a physical force to match his mental prowess. He worked his way up the ranks faster than any man before him, although it didn't hurt that his best friend was the first in line to rule the small and modest country.

The friendship between Justin and Devon, while it appears strange to the eye, is one of perfect symmetry and balance. Devon with his dark and overwhelming presence couldn't be more different from Justin.  Tall and almost lanky, Justin epitomizes bookworm. Having been taught by the best private tutors, he's well read and articulate with an expanse of knowledge of government and world affairs.

Beatrice often feels that if the two of them could somehow become one person, they would become the perfect man.

"Basescu is sending his ambassador in the next week or so." Justin sighs, hands rubbing his face. The exhaustion and frustration written all over it.

"His is still trying to get that treaty signed?" Devon demands, the fire reflecting off his face making him look more sinister than he really is. "I thought that was handled months ago."

"It was." Justin visibly slouches in the chair and Beatrice feels a tug at her heart. "But after statement about my mother, he's trying to bully me into signing it."

Justin's mother, Queen Isabelle, was diagnosed with breast cancer a few years ago and they had done a great job keeping it a secret but she's taken a turn for the worse in the last month. It was under great pressure from Parliament that Justin and Isabelle release a statement concerning her wellbeing and letting the world know that Justin would be acting as the political ruler for all intensive purposes until she was well again.

Only a handful of people, including herself and Devon, know that it is unlikely there would be a time when she was well again. Most days she teeters on the brink of consciousness, often times not knowing her own son.

Beatrice listens to the two men discuss the treaty that the President of Romania wants signed. It's a little over her head, but she knows it has something to do with control of part of the Black Sea which divides the two countries. In the past, it was often use as the driving force to start wars between the nations but control of it had been won by Moldavia many, many years ago.

"Do you know who they're sending?" Devon asks, swirling the brandy in his glass.

"Luca, I think."

Chills go up Beatrice's spine just at the mention of Stefan Luca's name. The few times she's met the Ambassador, he made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. There's just something about him that makes her feel uneasy and on guard.

After drowning the contents of his glass, Justin rises and the other two follow suit out of respect.

"I'm going to call it a night." He holds out an arm to Beatrice. "I've got meetings first thing in the morning and need to be level headed."

Devon grins. "What? Ruling a country is so hard to do after one drink?"

"It always starts with one drink." She smirks at the both of them. "The stories I could tell."

Justin gives her arm a light squeeze. "I don't think you have it in you."

She quirks an eyebrow, the playful smirk still in place. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"You have no idea how badly I'd like to know." He whispers against her ear and she blushes. "Devon." They stop at the door. "It was a pleasure, as always."

"The pleasure was mine, your Highness." He reaches out and shakes Justin's hand. With the watchful eyes of house servants always around, it's nearly impossible to act like themselves outside of closed doors. "Lady Beatrice." He nods at her.

Returning the night, they watch Devon head to the door.

"I guess I should get going too." She turns to him.

He smiles softly down at her. "I'm sorry about tonight. You know how he gets and I couldn't just turn him away."

She shakes her head, "It was fine. Really." She looks down at her watch. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Call me when you get home?" He questions her right back.

"Absolutely." They both do a quick check for prying eyes. "Love you."

"Love you more." He bends down and presses a soft kiss to her mouth.