(OOG: This post is co-written by me, and Azusa.)

"...... My Queen?"

Cyrene glanced up at the sound of her aide's voice, relieved in a way for a release from the tedium of the Parliament's daily reports. At the sight of Medena's expression -- a face that rarely displayed more than cold detachment -- she let the sheaf of papers drop to the desk and leaned back in her chair.

"Yes, what is it?" She focused her gaze on the woman, trying to discern just what it was that was painting her face. It was like trying to figure out the thoughts of a statue, most of the time; the perfect oval showed nothing above slight changes, now and again. This was the woman who had done nothing more than nod at the news that her house had collapsed in the Diabalos attack.

Word had it she was actually quite abrasive...... though of course, Cyrene had never seen anything of that sort. She almost regretted that fact...... but not quite. There were advantages to people agreeing with your every whim......

As she suspected, nothing was apparent in Medena's expression. "A request for audience, My Queen," she replied smoothly, bowing a touch more quickly than usual. A white sheet of paper was clutched in her hand.

That was it? She pressed her lips together in a brief flash of annoyance, raising a slender hand to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear and adjust the circlet gracing her brow. "A...... request for audience? Why are you bothering me with this now, if I may ask?"

Medena bowed again, and Cyrene scolded herself silently for letting her irritation show. "I sincerely apologize, milady, but I thought this would be considered a special case......."

Cyrene remained silent for a moment, before beckoning for the paper. After all, she had been relieved to take a break from those damnable reports, hadn't she? Anything was more interesting than lists of dry supplies and statistics, in her opinion, no matter that she looked over them voluntarily. Doing otherwise would be political suicide; leaving such important responsibilities with her Ministers, however uninteresting, would leave her open to attack from all sides.

The application was short and to the point. She skimmed over it, ready to give a holding order regardless of who it was -- and then froze as her eyes again registered the "name" field.

'Mariko Kaminoshi' was marked in thin, childish handwriting.

Her eyebrows rose in a flash. So soon? They had begun their search only days before -- only hours ago had she confirmed her suspicions through the girl's records....... and now she was walking directly into their hands? It seemed a little too good to be true, yet.......

Yet, the report on her father had disappeared - likely by Mariko's hand. She was only a child -- perhaps she feared retribution, as well she should have, for stealing confidential information from the -queen- of all people. And fear, as Cyrene well knew, could make people do strage things indeed.

She rested the paper over the reports gently, looking up to see Medena standing, perfectly patient, with downcast eyes. "When did you receive this?"

"Just now, my Queen. I do believe the girl is still waiting outside."

Cyrene nodded, leaning forward. "Bring her in."

When the woman in the soft-looking robe had emerged from the double doors and informed Mariko that she had been granted audience with the Queen, Mariko had merely given a calm little matter-of-fact nod, got to her feet, and holstered her schoolbag over one shoulder. She would not let herself feel shock or fear, not for those first few seconds; she /could not/ allow it.

"Right now?" she had inquired, and the woman, face impassive, had nodded with a rustle of robe.

Now, as she half-trotted, half-skipped through the doors that led the way into the Queen's hall, her blood burned hot through her body, searing her arms and chest. /They don't execute children, they don't execute children, they don't execute children/, she intoned to herself: and then, after a moment's pause, amended it with, /Not without a trial, anyway/.

Still, she again thanked whatever powers that be for her dubious fortune: the Queen, so it would seem, had time to spare today. It meant, at any rate, that Mariko would be saved from having to spend hours or even days agonizing over her situation; she couldn't imagine being able to eat or even sleep in her current state.

She couldn't feel her heart beating; she was half giddy, in fact. She wondered if perhaps this was what soldiers felt like when marching into battle for the first time.

Her current state of surroundings, of course, didn't resemble a battleground in the least bit: the walls were pale white marble, and statues and carvings hemmed her path in on either side. Soft aqua lights created subtle cones of illumination at regular intervals along the hallway, and Mariko was put in mind of both a deep and restful sea and of cold and suffocating waters.

/Remember to breathe/. The remembered voice welled up from the depths of her mind like a bubble of fresh oxygen. She exhaled slowly, feeling the smoothness of her pendant slide across her bare skin, warmed slightly from the heat of her body. She couldn't recall now why she'd hidden it beneath her shirt, but displaying it now struck her as somehow unwise...

"Excuse me..." Mariko realized distantly that she'd taken no notice of the woman from the main room trailing her at a brisk pace. The attendant bustled past Mariko now, brown hair wound into a tight tail and trailing down her back; at the end of the hallway, she paused and rapped lightly on a shut door.

"Come in," came the faint reply.

Mariko shifted her weight from one foot to another, the schoolbag with its guilty burden resting heavily over her shoulder. An idea came to her: /Father must have been this way when he was captured by Solaris. I'm sure he would have been.

He would have been brave and never let them see he was scared.../

This, at least, settled her heart a modicum.

"The Queen has summoned you," stated the woman in the green-trimmed robe, her voice laden with a certain air that made it quite clear that she did not believe Mariko's manners were quite up to par. "Go ahead, go in..."

She gently pushed open the hinged wooden double doors.

The room wasn't quite what she had expected.

Rather than a throne room, Mariko found herself standing within a large, but rather normal-looking library. Shelves of books spanned the length of the walls, reaching to touch the pale marble ceiling, broken only by two star-shaped windows above and an open set of delicate glass doors.

It looked more like a place to sit and have tea, or study, than an audience chamber. As she walked forward, toward the large pine desk behind which was the queen, the carpet itself seemed to sink under her feet, as if she were walking on grass, instead of cloth.

She looked up; the Queen of Shevat shifted behind her desk ever so slightly, with a murmurlike rustle of soft robes.

"Your Majesty..." Mariko began, in a tremulous, supplicating voice, for it seemed to her that this was the most proper way to address a monarch. Perhaps the Queen could be persuaded to take mercy on her if she proved herself to be respectful and loyal.

Cyrene regarded the girl with expressionless eyes, her head tilted just slightly to the side. Was she really so forbidding? The child seemed about to faint, and not a word had been passed between them other than a formal title. She hoped the meeting would lighten, just a little - what did Mariko thing was going to happen to her?

After a moment, she nodded, gesturing for Mariko to sit in the chair drawn up for that purpose. **Silence is the best policy......** It didn't seem so to Cyrene, though the former queen had certainly kept her court in check..... but this was just a child. Just..... what was supposed to be done in a case like this? Frightening the girl wouldn't help anything......

"Please, sit down," she said softly, when Mariko hesitated. "This is going to be a long meeting, I think, and you should be as comfortable as possible."

Almost without thinking, Mariko's hand flew to the golden chain from which the cross pendant dangled, twisting and braiding the smooth metal links with her fingers. /Father.../ If she broke down now, she would truly prove herself unworthy of being her father's daughter... surely, he would have stood implacable in the face of Solarian threat.

The statement of the Queen's both startled and soothed her: if a long meeting was what the woman had in mind, surely she was thinking of something other than a flat-out punishment.

In the soft lighting of the study, the woman looked... different, somehow. Something in Mariko's mind was half-reluctant to accord the status of "woman" to her, disrespectful as it might seem, for she had the soft young face of a girl not so many years older than Mariko.

/But then, they say she's lived for 500 years... perhaps she's not quite human.../

She realized that she was now displaying a rather foolish expression of wonderment, and, clamping her lips shut, lowered herself quietly into a velvet-padded chair facing the desk, balancing her schoolbag across her lap.

Hard-pressed to keep the amused smile from her face, Cyrene pushed the sheaf of reports aside and rested her arms on the surface of the desk, pressing her palms flat on the smooth wood. "Now...... what brings you here, Mariko Kaminoshi? I can't say I expected to meet you again so soon."

But she had certainly expected her....... sometime. Problem was...... what was she going to do with her now? Arrest her? Certainly not. Drill her for information? Not in such a brutal manner. If the girl could only be comforted, persuaded into speaking out......

Mariko realized she had been relentlessly toying with the gold chain since the start of the conversation; the gold cross itself lay tucked under her school uniform, and she was quite certain the Queen was curious, but she couldn't bring herself to let go of it-- not even in the face of royalty. The tawny-yellow chain was warm beneath her fingers, and touching it felt somehow like holding strength in her hand.

"I have something I need to give you..." she managed, trying to sound businesslike. Unfastening her schoolbag, she slid a hand inside it and tentatively glanced back at the Queen, trying to check her reaction.

Cyrene leaned back in her chair, hands still resting upon the smooth pine wood of her desk. The child seemed more paranoid than her entire Intelligence cabinet combined, though she supposed Mariko had good reason for such feelings. But it reminded her, strangely enough, of herself...... oh so long ago.

Mariko blinked slightly, tilting her head downwards so the Queen wouldn't see her. Was that a hint of bemusement she'd caught in the woman's eyes? She frowned to herself, wondering if she was truly so inconsequential that even stealing classified information garnered her no respect...

Reminding herself furiously to not let her guard down, she quietly sifted aside a few papers in her schoolbag and gently pulled out the folder labeled "Kaminoshi."

"I... I think you need this."

She placed it lightly on the desk without a word, facing it towards the Queen.

Her eyes were automatically drawn to the folder. It had, indeed, been Mariko who had stolen it after all....... Although she had been fairly sure, mistakes seemed to be her lot in life; it could very well have been someone else, after all -- who would suspect a child? Certainly not the rest of her Court..... or the supposed Palace Security.

Cyrene nodded, eyes rising again to Mariko's. "I don't suppose you would mind telling me why you had this?" There was no trace of surprise in her voice; but it seemed pointless to pretend. The girl had been aware of her watchers -- all of the agents had reported erratic behavior that could only mean she was aware of them.

Children, children....... she sighed. By law, this girl would have to be punished. But...... she could not harm a child. Certainly not one so much like herself. Where did that leave her?

"I..." Mariko began, and then found her own voice cut oddly short.

Why /had/ she stolen it, after all? It had seemed the only choice at the time, but now, with her head spinning, she couldn't manage to pin down a single factor any more.

"Because it's about someone who's important to me. Nobody would tell me anything..." And after she'd said it, she frowned, for it sounded so small and petty of her.

But Cyrene simply nodded, accepting the explanation. It was certainly better than a brainless denial, as she might have gotten from another girl the same age. "You do know, of course, that if you had come forward...... we could have at least given you reassurance. I think you understand, now, why this information is classified, do you not?"

"I didn't understand it.--" Mariko began to stumble over her words-- "but..." And she paused, now; there /were/ no buts.

She gave the chain around her neck a strong, almost involuntary jerk, and the pendant tumbled out from beneath her shirt and lay against the flat of her hand.

(/"Don't lie just because other people tell you not to, Mariko-- don't lie because a lie always hurts the teller most in the end. Even if you get away with it, it will sit on your conscience forever..."/)

"Yes... I..." The pointed ends of the cross bit into Mariko's hand as she clutched it tightly. "It was a stupid thing to do..."

Cyrene's eyes shifted to the pendant of their own accord, and she forced them back to the girl's frightened, guilt-ridden face. But the damage was done -- the vision of the symbol of Nisan had stabbed her like the ice she had become.

"Just so......" she replied softly, closing her eyes a moment to force her concentration back where it belonged. But when she opened them, it was still there, clutched in the girl's hand. She tried not to see it. "Why didn't you simply ask me? You...... had the opportunity."

Mariko could feel herself blushing, all of a sudden. It seemed so petty, so mundane: here she was discussing a matter of governmental secrecy, and she was sitting in a chair /blushing/. She bit her lip, with somewhat more force than she'd intended, and tasted blood; she quickly licked it away.

"I... I'm just a civilian. I didn't think you would ever share that kind of information with me..."

"Well, you're resourceful for your age, I will give you that......" Cyrene's lips quirked in a small smile. "I might have at least considered it -- it is my job to take care of my citizens after all, child. Certainly now that you've managed to steal what even my Ministers likely wouldn't have managed......"

She suppressed another sigh. Amusement was one thing...... but she doubted the Parliament would be as gentle. If this was not taken care of, here and now, Mariko may very well receive the fate she feared so, whatever it might be.

"Well, people would have suspected your ministers. They wouldn't have suspected a little kid like me..." The words spilled from her mouth in an almost apologetic tumble, and she felt stupid at once: she should have been on her knees begging forgiveness from the ruler of Shevat. And Father... oh, god, wouldn't it have been better to simply not have known at all? To not have these bits of truths and questions upon questions?

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, and realized they were filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have......"

"Be at ease, child. It isn't as if I had not already read the report." Cyrene hoped the sympathy she felt for the girl was at least partially apparent in her voice; she didn't remember what it was like to miss her parents, not truly, but if she lost, perhaps.... Sy -- She snapped the line of thought before it could resolve itself.

Lord, what in the world was she going to do? She had to punish the girl somehow, but she didn't have the heart, this moment, to say anything......

Mariko grabbed at her pendant again, half-leaning over the open schoolbag, and tears began to flow, almost unbidden, down her cheeks in warm streams. She had expected something quite a bit meaner-- perhaps even interrogation; yet before the faint trace of sympathy in the Queen's eyes, her carefully constructed defenseless were useless now.

Cyrene shook her head, unsure just how to proceed -- or where. "Don't cry, child. I'm sorry you've had such a hard time of things......" She did sigh again then, knowing she had lost an advantage. **Shameful, to treat her like another dignitary......** "But regardless......"

She let the sentence hang, at a loss for words. What..... what did one do with a displaced child? And the child of Solaris's prime hostage, no less? She couldn't explain what had really happened to her father, but she had no right to conceal the truth from the girl.

And the council would argue that the girl no longer had rights, that she had forfeited them in an act of treason. They would, quite likely, accuse her of spying for Solaris, and never mind that her father was a -hostage-, and not a voluntary defector.

What...... what to do?

(Summary: Pending - we made this WAY too long for one single post. Sorry about that.....)