JulianaWeirdnessSceneTwo

From IMiA

[This thread takes place after Deirdre leaves Juliana to fall asleep in her 'new' rooms in the castle - the night of Juliana's meetings with the Wesson's injured in the infirmary.]

Juliana wakes. She is not alone in the bed. Lying sleeping next to her is Eric.

She smiles. "I'm dreaming, or you're being very bad," she murmers. She runs her hand down his arm. How nice. _If only I could have two of them. It's too bad, really,_ she thinks, not fully awake yet.

"My Lord?" she says a little louder, and nudges him to wake him. "Eric?" she whispers. She sighs. _Am I in the future again?_ she wonders. Only safe way to find out is to ask Eric many questions. She slips out of bed and wanders over to the door to find if there is some way to lock it, just in case she's not in the future and her husband decides to show up. _And what if I'm not in the future, and I've fallen into bed with Prince Charming, again, and don't remember a bloody thing about it? Then what?_ she asks herself, heart thumping.

The door is in fact already locked.

Eric stirs. He props himself up and turns to look at Juliana. "What are you doing?"

"I'm..." she breathes. "What's the date?"

He tells her. It's the date Juliana expects. It's the second day of Carnival. Though it's probably well after midnight and Eric is probably wrong. He arches an eyebrow.

"The year?" she asks with some impatience.

He tells her and studies her face. His features show a mix of curiosity and concern. It is the same year it was when Juliana went to sleep.

She puckers out her lips while she's thinking. Eventually she says, "Strange things are happening. Now, you aren't supposed to be here, at this time, on this date. So, either you've come in here and we've had a bit of fun that I don't remember - and I recall you being rather memorable every other time - or I'm caught back up in a magical loop... that may be dangerous for my health."

"Is this a Carnival joke?" he asks unhappily.

She looks rather cross. "It may very well be someone's idea of a joke. *Someone* has been having a marvelous laugh over my life."

She sighs again. _I really have no idea what to do,_ she thinks. "I should just crawl back into bed with you. But there is an off chance my husband is going to come through that door, one way or another, and I would never put him in the position of having to face this, like this. If, in fact, I have a husband. I did, in some life. Do I still have a husband?"

And after a moment's hesitation she adds, "And don't you dare lie to me."

Eric sits up. His expression is one Juliana recognizes as grave concern. "Phillip died years ago," he says softly.

She grits her teeth. _I can get through this. I'm just caught up in the magical working, again. This is not real. Breathe._ She tries to remember how it is things go in this 'alternative' place. How did Phillip die, when, what the f--- is she doing here with Eric, what about all the babies?

No helpful memories come to mind. All she remembers is the life she lived. When she went to bed last night, Phillip was somewhere in the castle assisting Eric with the Wesson's Pub aftermath.

"Do I do this often? Wake up all disoriented in time and confused?" she asks, staying by the door, away from him.

"Never," he says. He pulls on a robe. Juliana looks down at herself and realizes she's quite... without clothes. She tries to hide her surprise and then her lack of surprise. Eric reaches to the other side of the bed, finds a robe and gently tosses it to Juliana. "Here."

"He died in Aidran?" she forces herself to ask.

"Yes," Eric quietly answers.

She nods, looks down at the floor, and closes her eyes. She thinks, _He could have. That was such a close thing. He could have, and that means it had to have been worse for me, because I didn't belong to anyone anymore. Holy Mother,_ she shivers and wraps her arms around herself. _How long before they realize I'm caught back up in this? How long before Phillip comes to check on me? What if he thinks I'm still sleeping? How long can I be here before they can't pull me back out? It was a day, before. That was just minutes. Reggie was under a long time, and he was still alive. Maybe weeks, then. At the speed of thought? Relax. Breathe._

She takes a deep breath. She looks up at Eric and smiles. "So, um, tell me about my wonderful life."

He rises from the bed. He gently puts his arm around Juliana's shoulders. "You are unwell, my love. Sit. We will sort this out." If she cooperates, which she does, he will lead her to a chair. Then, he will play with the fire until it adds more light and theoretical comfort to the room.

_About damn time someone wanted to figure this out,_ she thinks. _But what do I tell him? Maybe it would be easier to pretend to remember nothing of the last fifty years. Maybe I play this off as a stress disorder sneaking up on me from the trauma of what happened in Aidran... but then... I don't know what happened in Aidran, here. I don't know how I got out. I don't know how Phillip died. I don't know what they did to me. And I've already given it away by telling him he shouldn't be here in this time and place._ She puts her head in her hands.

_The truth then? What will he do, call for a healer? Won't it hurt him politically?_ She watches him at the fire. _By the Horn, Phillip, wake me up before I never want to leave._

She waits for him to come and sit down. Then she looks into his eyes so he can see how calm she is, before she starts talking crazy. "Before I start this, I want to make it known that I don't want any potions of any type put into my system, no matter how crazy this sounds. I'll sit through any examination you want, but no medicines, no sedatives. Agreed?" she asks.

He nods.

"Phillip... he loved books. He had this book full of theories. This theory he thought... well, he thought it could be real, considering the nature of the blood of the Royals," she smiles a little, "and the nature of shadow and reflections. The hypothesis was that much like Shadows reflect from Amber, perhaps many Ambers could reflect from one central..." she rolls her eyes trying to remember the word, "node? Many universes - it could be infinite, at any rate. Especially because each new event, each decision, can spark a new offshoot universe. Like my just deciding to tell you the truth instead of lying. Somewhere, I decided to lie instead. Something different is happening there. And things would be similar, possibly very similar, with little changes here and there adding up."

Eric listens patiently.

She takes another bracing breath. "So taking this theory into consideration, I'm going to tell you about the life I remember leading up to this point, and how it doesn't quite add up to now, because... well, you'll see. See, my Phillip didn't die in Aidran. He lived, barely, and could not even walk for awhile. But he lived. And we spent another fifty years in shadow doing your father's work, before the Duke died and we returned to Amber. By now we'd been back in Amber a few years, and just recently things have been bad. Ghosts, and murders, ritual and otherwise. Someone trying to kill me. Today, earlier, there was something... some unbelievable magic happened in the City, at Wessons, and many of our friends were hurt, and some might die. When this happened, the magic... I don't know, exactly. But I was caught up in it and had a vision of the future. Where Phillip was dead, and I was with you, and you were..." she trails off, not about to call him King.

"But that was the future. I woke back up in my current, having passed out for a few minutes. Everyone seems to insist I've been magically tampered with, and did not, in fact, see the future, although it was very real to me," she says, reaching out to run her hand down the side of his face. "There were people still caught up in it. You and Phillip and Deirdre and Gerard were trying to help them. I was exhausted. Deirdre gave me these rooms to sleep in. So now I'm afraid sleep retriggered the spell, and I'm having visions again. I'm beginning to feel rather guilty that Phillip is dead in all these visions and I keep ending up in bed with you, but... well, I didn't put me here."

She shrugs, and waits to see what he thinks of this.

"I see," Eric replies at last. "How can I help?"

"Do you believe me, or must I be insane?" she asks. She's not angry. _There is that too, the chance that I really am here, and always have been, and everything else was made up by my mind... and all between lost._

"I believe that you believe it. It troubles you and thus must be investigated. What would you like me to do? Leave you alone to have time to yourself to think? Send for Deirdre or Patrice? Answer questions? Ask, and if it is possible, I shall do it."

She smiles brightly at him, and reaches out to take his hand. "Just tell me about things. How do things stand here? I'd like to think this isn't just an affare von mondschein, and you're not acting like it is. So tell me. Perhaps I can learn something that will help me later - or perhaps I will find things coming back to me and learn it was all a dream, really. Was I a mess, when I came out of Aidran? Did you see me?"

"I brought you home from Aidran."

She looks surprised, and blows a low whistle. "That must have been..." _...awful._ She tries not to smile, because she is much too pleased he came. "Tell me how it happened, what you know of it."

Eric looks vaguely uncomfortable. "Stop me if this becomes too difficult for you. I have no wish to upset you. Agreed?"

She nods.

"Phillip died a hero. He died defending you and a group of children in Aidran. He was a good man," Eric says with apparent sincerity. "His death and your captivity did not sit well with us. We went in and brought you home."

"Well, that's rather vague," she smiles softly. "Who went in? Where did you find me? Where did you find him? Did the... bullets," she forces out, "kill him, or a blow to the head, or something else?"

"I think a certain lack of detail would be best for now," Eric replies.

She scowls.

He pauses for a second, then continues. "I took troops in to Aidran. Caine and Gerard brought the fleet. I found you in the palace."

"Oberon sent three of you, troops and the fleet?" she asks in disbelief.

"One does not lightly kill an Ambassador from Amber or hold another hostage," Eric replies. "We take it personally." Juliana can see the fire in his eyes and though he keeps his voice even, she can hear the steel in it. And she knows that it was not simply a politcal issue with Eric.

She smirks a bit. "So, in other words, you were going to get me out either way, and your father decided since you were determined he might as well make it a loud lesson. In the scenario where Phillip does not die the response is more... subdued. He sent Knights of the Unicorn, because they were a Unicorn cult, one presumes. Were they a Unicorn cult here, too?"

"Yes. They were." The way he replies makes it clear that they are no longer among the living.

She nods. She smiles. This makes her happy.

"This is making you angry. Let me ask you about other things," she says, and tilts her head to think for a moment. "Were we speaking between my marriage and Aidran?"

"No," he shakes his head. "You married Phillip and were gone. I never attempted to contact you. It would not have been proper."

She grins. "Well, that matches. So now I've found my break off point. Well, I came back here and recovered. With Phillip dead..."

She takes a deep breath. "Wait a minute. Did I have any children with Samuel Merrick? Was I ever married to Samuel Merrick?"

"You have been widowed twice. You have no children."

_Well, that was a barren hope,_ she thinks ruefully. She shakes that news off. "Okay. So, with Phillip dead, Paulus is the Duke? Oh, wait, is Hallman still alive?"

"He died about a few years ago."

"And I imagine I was close to him. Or did I... pull away? What have I been doing for the last fifty years?"

"The family worked to keep you close. They had already lost Phillip and did not want to lose you as well. Phillip's death broke Hallman's heart and may have contributed to his recent death. Patrice remains one of your closest friends."

He pauses for a minute. "Phillip made arrangements for his death. You were left with considerable resources. You have used the time since his death to recover and to sponsor various charities."

"And is this my room? And where else do I stay?" she smiles wickedly.

"This is your room. You have a manor in the city." He pauses. "You sometimes stay with me."

"Why do I have a room in the castle? And what have I been doing for the King that he allows it?" she asks suggestively.

Eric sighs. "Deirdre arranged for a room for you long ago. You were an ambassador for the Crown. You have many friends and contacts in the Golden Circle. Why would you not have a room?"

"How many other dowagers have rooms in the castle? But... damn, I'm not a dowager, because I was never a Duchess. This is bloody confusing. Right now I wish I kept a diary. But I don't, so all I have is you, the Prince of Vague Answers. I want to try something."

She gets up and walks over to her vanity where there is sure to be paper and a quill. She gets the quill, and ink, and looks around the room for something fairly permanent. Like the fireplace. She wets the quill, and starts writing her name on the most inconspicuous spot of stone she can find on the fireplace.

Her focused intent is to have it travel back with her. She turns to Eric and holds out the quill. "Now you. Just write something and have it be your intent that it follow me back. Please?"

"Very well," he replies. He takes the quill, then pauses. "You say Phillip is alive in this other world of yours?"

"So far. But the other vision I had, which *you* did not want to hear, there, was set about 16 years in the future from now, when Phillip has been dead 14 years. Heroically, again," she says with annoyance. "Bad things come, out of shadow. Worse than anything in the histories. Thousands die. Phillip dies saving you. He... tells you to take care of me and Marlette... who isn't born at this point. I'm trying to change things, but his death seems to be such a strong thread. Fate."

"He was a good man," Eric says.

Then, smiling again, he adds, "I actually asked for a different reason. If he is alive there, I suppose I really should be careful what I write."

"Write what you want. Maybe then they'll believe me. You and him, I mean. Write a note to yourself. You're being distant and awkward, because... well, because we touched for the first time today in a quarter century, and I'm married, and nothing has been cleared up. Just try to get yourself to take the threat seriously. Or write something kinky. That might convince them it's you, at least."

Eric laughs. "Very well. But you have to promise not to read it unless I agree to it."

She looks up at him and smiles. "Is this going to get me in trouble with my husband - if he - you -" sigh "if the Eric in my place agrees to it?"

"No," he says with a smile.

"Alright then," she agrees, eyes slitted, "I promise not to read it unless you agree to it."

She'll sit quietly and watch him work. _Writing on the fireplace is rather quaint,_ she decides.

When he's done, she'll say, "Chances are really more likely that I'm having some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder, aren't they? It really is more likely that I belong here, in the body I'm in, and this other... life, world, is a way to make what happened here less painful?"

"It is a possibility, I'm afraid. There are others, none particularly pleasant."

"Well, I do feel removed from that. I feel very much like I could sit here and consider... for example, that Phillip's body must have been damaged by them beyond the point of anyone being able to give me a certain answer as to what killed him. And I don't get too upset. It is quite unreal, I'm afraid. I can very coldly contemplate what his death meant for me, knowing how bad it was the first time, when they still considered me his. You know, this is the first time I've ever talked about this, since I was debriefed," she has gone a little pale.

Eric sits and takes Juliana's hands in his own.

"I don't want to upset you, though," she says, and looks at him with concern.

"I'm worried about you," he says.

"Maybe you should give it a day or two, and then if I don't return to my old self with a few simple days memory loss... well, then maybe I'm stuck here," she smiles and colors back up again. "Not that I consider being stuck with you a bad thing at all. It's just that I'm needed there, I think."

"But... either way, I suppose I am in a bit of trouble. Either I'm trapped in a magical delusion and you are a beautiful figment of my imagination," she says, and lets go of his hand with her right to lean over and run the back of her fingers down the side of his face, "or, something serious enough has happened to magic in my Amber to be shifting not just myself, but some of my friends, and who knows who else, into various parallel universes at various times, or," she sighs, and takes his hand again, "I'm very ill, or I've been tampered with in a very dispicable way."

She trembles a little and bites her lip, looking down at their feet. She closes her eyes, and tries not to think.

Eric gently squeezes Juliana's hands. "We will work through this, my love. Rest. Take whatever time you need. If your memories do not return in a few days, we will see what may be done. Just know that I love you and will be here if you have need of me."

She nods, squeezes back, and looks up at him. She smile sardonically. "I don't feel like I need rest.

And you... you are going to be such a problem for me. I've already rationalized my way to everything I want."

Eric smiles. "I have no wish to be a problem for you." He slowly stands while still keeping her hands in his. "Perhaps I should gather my things and give you some time to yourself."

And she holds on to him. "I'd rather you'd stay," she says a little breathlessly. "I don't want to have to pretend or explain with anyone else, and I'd rather not be alone yet."

"As you wish, my love." He sits.

She smiles. _I could get used to this very quickly._

"Why do we lock the door?" she asks.

"I have relatives who yet live," he smiles.

She laughs. "I'm not sure that answers my question entirely, but I'll accept that answer." She falls into a comfortable silence with him. Eventually she says, "Well, this probably means I've never been to Souzan, and met Marlette. You should take me to Souzan and we should find a way to meet Marlette Corrino, if I ever get over this."

"I believe Deirdre knows her."

Juliana grins. "Ah. You'd like her. I mean, if she's anything like she is... back home. She's one of my best friends. She was there with Phillip and I through some hard times, but that was after... Aidran." She shrugs. "This is so odd. So have I ever had an affair with the King of Gaiga I've told you about?"

"That is not the sort of question I have ever asked of you."

"So that's a 'no'?" she asks, tilting her head.

"That is a no," he replies.

She sighs. "I have no idea how I'm going to be able to function outside of this room. I don't know who I know and who I don't. I don't even know if the people are like my version of themselves. For all I know Marlette would hate me, and Rob would rather sleep with you, and... Patrice hates cards. Maybe my plan should be to pretend dated amnesia until... well..." She looks a little lost. _Phillip, come on. Find me. Wake me up._

"We will find a cure for your condition," Eric says after some time. "Or I will find a way to return you to your proper place."

"Gods, I love you," she breathes, and then gets a little wide eyed, and goes red. "I mean... oh bloody hells this is just impossible."

"I understand."

Well, that gets him a dirty look. She lets go of him, and gets up to go look out over the city. The view is familiiar. Amber as seen from the palace. Juliana can tell Carnival revels are still going on even at this late hour.

"Do I still work with Janet and James? Hey, did I go to a party at Arbor House within the last year?"

"Yes you work with Janet and James," he replies.

"Do we not speak about Arbor House?" she asks quietly.

"There was a party some time ago celebrating the birthday of Vinta Bayle and the arrival of two twin cousins. There were several assassinations. There were a number of deaths."

She nods, but doesn't look back. "Who died?"

"Rather a lot of important people including almost all of the Bayles."

She turns around and her eyes fill with tears. "Almost all of them?"

"Yes."

_What was missing? What was the difference? Phillip for one. What else?_

"Was I there? Was Abagail Garrett there? O'Donovan?"

"You were not present and DCI Garrett does not do parties. Captain O'Donovan? Yes."

"Did Sean live?" she asks calmly.

"No."

"Well, over on my side of things, Phillip and Abagail were the main forces of control at that party, and probably the most powerful sorcerors. I didn't do much beside crowd control, but perhaps even that made a difference. We didn't lose anyone, but it was close. I was poisoned there."

Her eyes cloud over with anger. "I still do not know who did it. Phillip has me forever under guard. It has been... frustrating, although I've *tried* to cooperate. But it has tied me down too much. So we've begun a little discussion about how I'm going to help him whether he wants help or not, except that we were interrupted by..."

She trails off as her mind jumps to another subject. "How many prostitutes have been murdered here?"

"That is really more your area than mine, I'm afraid. Though," he muses, "perhaps that is the answer. You have been under a great deal of stress, given your concern for those women."

"And you don't know the number?" she shakes her head in disappointment.

"Where do you begin the count? The last year? Two years? Two hundred years?"

"Say... five?" she asks with a tilt of the head and the crossing of the arms.

"You knew that," he replies. "I know you were particularly concerned with the five serial murders of a year or two ago."

She continues to look unhappy. "Were there more last night?"

"It's Carnival. There are, alas, always a few deaths at Carnival. But I have not been informed of anything out of the ordinary. Certainly nothing that rivals those murders."

She smiles in relief. "That's good. We had a brothel set on fire, and three of the women had their throats slashed. These same three all had small children rumored to be Prince Bleys's. The children, just those three, went missing. The building burned to the ground. There were a lot of injuries. It was the House of Flowers. Are there rumors like that, about the babies, here?"

"Not that I am aware of, but I would imagine such rumors would be false in any event."

"Right, that's what you said back home too... But back home, those specific three women are still dead and those specific three children are still missing... So rumors or not, someone took advantage of the situation for some dark means," she sighs and looks contrite. "I'm sorry. This must be trying your patience. What is your schedule like, in the morning?"

"It is Carnival. There are diplomats and ambassadors in residence, but none I am required to deal with."

"Could we ride?" she asks.

"I see no reason why we could not."

She smiles. That would be something to look forward to, anyway. "Good. I don't want to... keep you up. I'm going to be okay now, I think. You should sleep."

"Very well," he says. "I shall get my things."

In a rush, she says, "You can... stay here. It's silly too.." She trails off and blinks. She shrugs. "We're going riding in the morning anyway, you may as well stay here."

"I am happy to stay, but I did not want to make you uncomfortable."

"To be honest, I'd rather have you here, to help deflect questions if someone else shows up," she grins.

She shrugs again. "You're not going to make me uncomfortable. You're tempting, but perhaps you're a good test. Even if I fail... what? It was a dream? A vision? Does that count?"

He chuckles. "I like to think I count a great deal, but I know what you mean."

She laughs. "You would, of course, but... I'd be waking back up to a you who isn't you, and a husband who is, perhaps, not jealous enough for my tastes - and the you that isn't you would tell me visions bring as many lies as truths, and I..."

She smirks. "I don't know. And what if I indulged myself, and woke up back there, and the writing was on the wall?" She motions to the fireplace. "And then, a month from now, I find I am indeed pregnant. I've proven there can be a physical transfer then, not just a spiritual one. And I can't even admit anything to anyone. What if I had your child in another place and kept my mouth closed and let Phillip think it was his, and never said a word. At what age does the child start to realize she might not be who she's been told she is? At 500? Phillip in a long full life would be dead by then. Could I confess then, in my old age?"

She pales a little at the thought. (of old age, not of confessing.) She motions with her hands in front of her as if to wipe all that away. "And that's the sillyest bunch of conjecture I've ever done. Go to sleep. I'll slip out to the parlor and read." She just almost comes over to kiss him on the cheek, but stops herself.

"I can only imagine how confusing this must be, my love."

"I'm just... more afraid... what happens if they can't break the spell? If I never wake up, do I get to stay here? Is this my heaven? Will it all go horribly wrong, because I don't deserve..." her voice cracks a little, so she stops talking and swallows. "It could be some time though. I was only passed out a few minutes, before, and I got an entire day. If I were under all night, I might have weeks here. Maybe months." She shakes her head. "That's just..." she whispers, "insane."

She looks down and realizes, again, that all she has on is a robe. She'll quietly go where she thinks she'd put extra blankets and grab one. Juliana easily finds blankets.

Eric listens quietly. He is clearly trying to be supportive but not say or do anything that will upset her.

_Why do the men in my life just walk on eggshells around me all the time?_ she wonders. _I can't be that much of a terror when I get mad. And I'm hardly that fragile. Or mentally... unstable... damn..._

_Maybe Samuel should have learned to walk on eggshells,_ she thinks, and snorts.

She pulls the blanket out and wraps it around her. She smiles over at him, and heads out of the room.

While she is unlocking the door, Eric walks over to her. He gently rests his hand on her shoulder. She closes her eyes and turns and rests her check against his shoulder. She breathes.

Eric simply holds her. She stays there awhile, smelling him and just feeling warm and... dreamy.

She lets out a shaky breath. "I... um..." she grins and shakes her head. "I'm going to go read now... or some... thing," she says, but doesn't move.

"I should let you do that," he says but does not move either.

She nods slowly, takes a deep breath, and bolts. Eric lets Juliana go. She shuts the door behind her, and lets the breath out.

_At least put up a good fight, woman. If you can't resist him for a day or two you're just a sad... wife,_ she tells herself, and yanks off the blanket to throw it in the chair. _Cool air will help. Surely._

She heads over to the bar and pours herself a strong drink. Her hands shake. She looks at the drink but doesn't pick it up. She sighs. She starts wandering the room, exploring, to see how much the same/different it is from the one she just left - in the other place.

The room is much the same. It differs from the one in her world in that it has some of her personal items. Whereas it has none of the signs of Marlette that the other room held.

She shudders at her pain at missing Marlette, and her fear this is all a dream and she'll never have a baby, ever. Like here. _Must talk to Eric about prevention methods. All the things I found out I'd done to myself when I started miscarrying. The me here might not know that - and if it takes 50 years to recover..._

She starts looking for what she doesn't know. Things that might be gifts she's never gotten, stuff like that. Which books she has here (and whether they look read or not) would interest her too. Very quietly going through all this stuff, so as not to disturb Eric. Going through drawers, looking for stashes of letters - surely anything really good will be with Janet and James, or at the the 'manor' here.

After an examination of the rooms, it becomes apparent to Juliana that her primary residence must be elsewhere. The rooms are comfortable and appear lived in, but have a feeling more of a summer home or second home than a permaanent home. There are, of course, items she can not remember receiving. Things she must have acquired over the last fifty years in a lifetime lived without Phillip.

She picks out a book she hasn't read but which looks like it has been read. She's looking for one with notes in the margins - she likes to write notes in books. She'll take that and sit down and read, trying to figure out why she read this book, where she got it, if she even thinks the same way. She'll eventually fall asleep in the chair, because she's really not much of a reader.

When she wakes up she'll wander into the other bedroom. After she wakes she finds the room in question is simply a guest room. She recognizes a few things that she must have done to it to personalize it a bit, but it is obvious that no one stays there with any frequency.

Now she has a new plan, as much as she wants Phillip to wake her up. If she can get through 'tomorrow' here, she might be more prepared for whatever will happen at home.

She just has to not get killed.

She sighs. She misses Marlette. She goes back into the other room and ignores the drink she poured earlier, and returns to reading. She will pick up one of these diplomacy books. She's likely to need that knowledge to help the other Eric sometime soon back home.

Juliana is distracted from her reading by the sound of someone at the door to the master chamber. There is the sound of a key being placed in the lock.

She closes the book and very quietly waits to see who it is. She also silently takes a very deep breath. She keeps the book and slowly moves her hand over toward the candlestick, with it's half-burnt and still flaming tapers. Worst case, two missile weapons and a scream.

The door opens. Eric enters the room. He is dressed, as ever, in sable and his shirt is black silk and his pants black with crimson piping. His boots are high black leather. "Morning, my love," he says and smiles that brilliant smile of his.

She shrugs off the fear. _What unreasonable fear was that? Who did I think was going to emerge?_ She sets the book down and smiles. Can't help but smile when he smiles like that. _He's hoping I'm okay now and it was all a bad dream._

"Good morning," she croaks a bit, surprised by her own voice. She clears her throat.

_'Did you sleep well,' I could ask. 'Better if you'd been with me,' he'll say. Then he'll ask me how I'm feeling._

So instead she says, "I should get dressed. How are we going to break fast?" She gets up and heads for the bedroom, but turns to catch an answer at the door.

"What do you prefer? we can eat here or we can go into the city."

"The city, if you're up for helping me pass as sane."

"As you wish."

She steps into the room and opens the wardrobe. Then it occurs to her she has always worn very few clothes she didn't need help getting into. She goes and sticks her head back around the doorway.

"Do I have a maid?" she asks.

"Ellen," he says.

"Oh, it can rot. You can help me, you've seen it all before anyway," she says with a smile, and the -- come hither -- look. She slips off her robe and puts on what foundation garments she can - she can get right up to lacing the corset, which she's going to need some help with.

With great gentleness and even greater restraint, Eric helps Juliana dress. It's much the same with the dress, although she could use some help getting it over her head. But it's the buttons that need doing up.

Hair... she will brush out, then french braid, carrying the braid all the way down the length. She rolls it up into a bun. But she'll talk to him while she's doing this. Braiding is... a natural non-thinking activity.

"Who are we likely to see? How much do you know about what I've been up to lately?"

"Aside from planning your annual Carnival festivities?"

Her eyes widen and she grins.  "Oh boy.  What do I usually do - I mean, how well off did he leave me, exactly - do I have help or am I managing all that money on my own?" She rushes, and then her eyes narrow.  "Or do I have patrons?  Or both?"

"You have a ridiculously large party for the people of Southside," Eric replies. "You have resources. You have allies and employees and friends. And," he smiles, "the ability to ask questions with speed that would worry Brand."

She smiles. "Wonderful. And now we're going to find out how long I can fake my way through with people who have been around me for the last fifty years? This should be a great amusement in and of itself."

Her smile fades slowly. "There are a bunch of secrets she might have from you. Some of those could hurt her, and you, pretty badly. You should... look into it. Or I'll tell you, if she hasn't..." she grins slowly, "but maybe certain crimelords have thought better than bothering her, considering her connection with you."

"I know enough," he replies.

She winces, and withdraws a bit. _He knows everything he can know and still stay with me, he means,_ she thinks. _And what am I thinking? I could tell him all that and my only means of protection would walk right out the door. Yes, and that means the, 'are you ever going to marry me?' questions must stay unspoken too._

"This must disturb you, my speaking of myself like this," she grimaces. "Sorry. I'm... analyzing."

"It is a bit off-putting."

"I'll try not to do it too much, then," she says, and smiles, but it's a bit fake. "I gather I know some sorcery and some self defense. I don't remember any of that. I've been..." she looks extremely sad, "too reliant on Phillip to protect me, even with all the evidence that he really can't."

"I find that difficult to believe," Eric says studying her. "Phillip was quite formidable. I doubt there was much that he could not protect you from. In fact, it is my understanding that he still protects you." He pauses, and adds, "I also find it difficult to believe that you would allow yourself to become over reliant on anyone. Certainly, you would, if necessary, use them to your best advantage, but not at the cost of making yourself vulnerable in some way. Though," he muses, '"That may be a function of the way Phillip's death effected you."

"Well, he couldn't protect me in Aidran, could he?" she says a little bitterly, and then realizes what she just said. She closes her eyes and turns away from Eric, moving things around on the vanity. "I don't mean that..." she sighs. "He did what he had to do. Here. There."

She's fighting tears. She stops moving things. "There was nothing he could have done. It was probably better that he was comatose. And... like I said before, I was poisoned at Arbor House. That was terrifying in a completely different way. If he wouldn't have been there, actually in bed that night," she adds a bit dryly, "I would likely have died. But no, I don't know how to fight at all. Things have been difficult even while we've been happy. We've been through a lot of miscarriages and Phillip doesn't do well when he feels helpless. In fact, he's almost impossible when he feels helpless. So I... I suppose it started to let him feel like he was doing something useful, protecting me. And I won't pretend that hasn't been nice, to be protected. But..."

She turns back around and looks at him pleadingly, "Will you teach me, while I'm here? Or... help me find someone to teach me? I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"I am uncertain what to do about this," Eric replies after some time. "If what you believe happened is somehow true, then I am hesitant to do this because it may make you too different to return to your own place. If it is not, and there is some other explanation, then doing so will arouse suspicions. Either way, it is dangerous."

She scowls, lost in thought. "Too different to return. I suppose that is a danger. I hadn't thought of that. He'll be trying to get back the me he knows." She sighs. "At the same time, I can't isolate myself completely. I know who I am. I know him. I'm confident as soon as he breaks whatever I'm wrapped in I'll hear him and wake up. Learning a bit about how to fight, or how to do some magical working, isn't going to change who I am. I mean, waking up to find you in my bed is much more likely to affect me than either of those things."

"One likes to think he makes an impression," Eric says.

She smiles knowingly.

Then, "Perhaps we should skip the trip into the city and find your tutor."

"Let's do both. All my estimations tell me I should be here for awhile, and I've a craving for the City this morning. Even with all the hurdles I might face there."

"Very well," he says. "Where would you like to start?"

"I'd like to stop by the church in Southside before we eat," she says quietly, "to pray."

"Are you planning on speaking to DeChastellan?"

"I suppose I should, as that's something I've been avoiding, but... I was just planning on praying. Do I go and talk to Morgan a lot?" she asks, for some reason feeling very nervous about the idea of talking to Morgan about these things. The last time she talked to Morgan, alone, she changed a great deal.

"Not unusually so," Eric replies. "He is one of your allies in Southside."

"Did I talk to him after Aidran? When I was blaming myself?" she asks.

"Not with any frequency that I am aware of," Eric replies. "I believe you met him after you became so actively involved in Southside."

"Ah," she says and nods. "Well, I suspect we'll run into him then. Perhaps fooling him will be a good first step - or it will prove to me that it just can't be done."

She ties off her braid with matching ribbons, and stands up. "Do I still have Rainbow?"

"You retired Rainbow years ago," he replies. "You have taken over the care of Corsair."

"Ah," she says, then "Ah," with nodding, as she realizes.

"He's a good horse. And honestly has better reflexes than Rainbow, even if he doesn't always listen so well. Have I ever breed her? I mean, I have, but it was... on a bet with the King of Gaiga that happened after Aidran..."

"I believe you have," he replies.

"Ah, well, I can worry about horses later, I suppose."

She waits for him to lead the way. Last statement before they're into the hall is, "So, when this becomes too tedious for you, send me off to the country. I'll go quietly."

"That is not funny." Eric continues walking. His tone makes it clear that the subject is not one he finds in any way amusing or appropriate.

She follows him. She watches his legs a few minutes before attempting to catch up. She is very quiet until they get to the horses, when she will begin effusing over Cosair. Her mind is deeply involved in the analysis of that particular reaction of Eric's.

Corsair seems a bit hesitant about Juliana. Eric does not comment on this. She makes friends with the horse.

"Hello baby. I know, I know, but I'm still okay. Yes. We'll be fine. You will be patient today, yes? Oh, I bet you miss daddy. What a pair. Maybe we can go hard later? Jump some things? But only if you are patient today, my black boy."

She pets at him, and lets him get used to her and her smell. She goes through her normal routine of checking out the horse - which right now is pretty significant. Check the hooves, check the legs, look him in the eyes - make sure the horse hasn't been noticably poisoned, check the saddle, all the straps. Basically paranoid.

He seems in excellent condition. He is simply nervous about Juliana.

Then she'll mount up and be ready to go. And she's ready for him to be difficult, so she's keeping a tight rein on him. Corsair maintains a degree of edginess. He simply isn't as comfortable with Juliana as he might be. Eric saddles his horse, and is ready as well.

She will head into Southside to do the Church thing. She will avoid priests as she can. Then when she is done with that, breakfast, during which she will be mostly quiet, for fear of giving herself away in public. Then a stop by a bakery for some bread to take for lunch, another place for meat and wine.

And then she'll turn to him and say, "At your leisure, my prince. I'm ready to ride. I need to wear Corsair out a bit. Surprise me?"

Eric smiles. He takes her off the beaten path then it becomes a matter of skill - and she loves that. She dismounts and does what needs to be done with the horse after a difficult ride. Her color is high. She'll throw down a blanket and pull out the food. She's very content. Very happy and satisfied and invigorated. She loves the forest.

"Thank you. That was wonderful. I don't get out riding nearly enough anymore. I miss it so much," she smiles.

"It pleases me to see you happy," he says and smiles. "It always has."

She smiles and blushes a little. She pats the blanket. "Come. Come eat. If I'm hungry you've got to be starving."

She wanders over to pull a little dagger from Corsair's pack to jimmy the cork out of the winebottle. Eric smiles and sits. He watches her as she fetches the wine. "Somehow, you always manage to look even more beautiful after you have been riding."

Juliana bites her lip and looks down into the little pond Corsair is drinking from. Little blue fish glittering between the shadows cast by the leaves. So calm, this little pond, and the little stream. She pops the cork out and brings the bottle back over to the blanket. She sets aside the dagger with the cork still stuck on it.

She leans toward him and offers the bottle. She says, with husky undertones, "You know I love to ride."

Eric smiles. He looks deep into her eyes. He takes the wine bottle in one hand, running his fingers across hers as he does so. He takes her other hand in his.

Her breathing quickens. "It's a beautiful vale."

"Yes," he says watching her. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. "Made more so by your presence."

She watches him watch her then, finally, she says, "I believe you are seducing me."

"Perhaps I should stop," he replies. "I do not mean to cause you distress." He pours her a glass of wine as he speaks.

She smiles brightly. "I'm not sure you can stop. I'm not sure I want you to. Which has always been the problem, between us. You didn't avoid me when I was married because it wasn't proper - you avoided me because you knew bloody well what would happen."

He nods.

She takes the glass from him, and takes a sip. Then a gulp. She makes a happy sound in the back of her throat. "If you didn't belong to the world we could build a cottage here, and grow beets and carrots, and it wouldn't matter that I'm either insane or from another world. Neither of us would care." She's still smiling but it's starting to fade.

"Whatever has happened, know I love you. I will love you and stand by you for however long you are here," he offers, like an oath.

She looks searchingly into his eyes, finding his seriousness. Tears well up. "I had so very much convinced myself you were nothing but a beautiful bit of fun for me, back then. And even worth the cost, maybe. I'm glad I woke up with you. I miss you. It's not that Phillip is not... enough of everything. It really has nothing to do with him at all. I never understood people who just went right out and got another pet when one died, to replace it. People just can't replace people. You can add to a life, but you can't just swap out men. It simply doesn't work." Tears spill over.

"Why was I born so amoral? Why do these damn rules make no sense to me?" she asks retorically.

Eric sets the bottle down. He takes her glass from her. He gently takes her into his arms. He'll gently hold her if she cries and run his hands over her braid and try to comfort her. She's not really crying, but she certainly doesn't pull away. She wraps her arms around him and admits defeat - there is really no point torturing him, or herself, this way. He holds her quietly without saying anything. It seems to be an attempt to comfort more than anything else.

She pulls back and looks at him. "I'm dreaming, or you're already mine. Either way, I'm feeling entitled." She kisses him.

Eric returns the kiss. Somehow it is simultaneously tender and gentle but warm and passionate. She makes it demanding and desperate and hot.

Eric returns the fire of the kiss. He reaches out and begins to unbraid Juliana's hair. His other hand traces a line down her back. She groans and pushes herself up against him. She has no regard for the mostly full wine glasses on the blanket. Her hands come up to hold the sides of his head. It gets heated, and then, she runs her hands over his chest, just once, before leaning down to lay her cheek over his heart.

Then she goes still, and asks, "Why didn't you marry me?"

"When I was younger, I failed to marry you because I was arrogant and blind. Since then, I have not out of respect for Phillip."

She lifts her head away from him with a sigh, looking back up at him. "This is going to be the death of me," she says, and starts disengaging herself from him.

"I certainly hope not," he says. Though he does not prevent her from moving away, its clear that he'd rather she didn't.

"I'm sorry," she says, and does, in fact, move all the way off him and out of reach, grabbing the wine bottle as she goes. She clears the blanket and slams the bottle. Then she drops it and sighs. "Gods, I want you. This is bad."

She's still not breathing correctly.

Eric makes no move to stop her. "I want you. But I do not want you to be unhappy."

"I'm going to be unhappy either way. And that being that... I have to try to do the right thing, instead of the selfish thing." She makes a strangled frustrated sound, and turns her back on him. "Even if it kills me."

She's fighting tears again. She lets her hair fall forward, because that seems like a good enough place to hide.

Juliana hears Eric rise to his feet. He slowly walks behind her and gently places his hand on her right shoulder. "You are a good and strong woman, Juliana." He pauses. Then, "I am going to straighten the blanket and prepare our lunch. If you need time to yourself, I understand. I will be here."

She turns and grabs his arm to keep him from going. She puts her other arm around him and rests her head against his shoulder. "I wish..." she begins quietly, so he actually has to listen to hear her over the forest sounds, "I wish I could just believe I was insane. Then this would all be over with already. He's going to die, and no matter how it happens it's going to be awful. Here, it's already done. It's done, and it has been done for some time. I wouldn't have to worry about being a good wife, which is so hard, really. I wouldn't have to be angry with him anymore." Her voice cracks on that.

Tears start to flow. "He doesn't deserve my anger. Or jealousy. We were friends, first. We had a deal," she says and sighs unhappily. "That'd all be done with, and I wouldn't have to worry about trying so hard to get pregnant, or the fact that I likely can't give birth to another breathing baby boy..."

She loses it there, and the tears become sobs.

Eric holds her and lets her cry. She lets it out. It takes awhile. She's scared, and alone, except for him, and she feels guilty about trying to take comfort in the familiar. Eventually, when she gets it under control, although she hasn't let him go yet, she says, "I really am sorry about this. You shouldn't be having to deal with this. Either way."

"Nor should you," Eric replies, "but while you do I will be here for you."

"Thank you for your steadiness," she says,turning her face toward his neck. She takes a deep breath, smelling him, and her fingers itch to get under his shirt again.

"Mmm," she sighs, and pulls away. She colors. "We should eat. Eating would be... a good idea, considering how much drink I've just dumped into myself." Juliana is always quick to recover.

Eric nods. He then walks over and straightens the blanket and goes about the business of preparing lunch. Somewhere along the way, his shirt has been rebuttoned.

_I'm a moron,_ she thinks.

She watches him for a moment, and then comes to help. She leaves her hair down, although she does tuck the ribbons into her sleeve. Once everything is set up, she says, "So tell me about how things stand in the political world here. What's the latest from the Guilds?"

Eric and Juliana share a pleasant meal. The food is good and the setting is idyllic. They talk of politics at home and in the Golden Circle. It appears things are much the same here as at home. There are differences to be sure-both small and great, possibly owing to the 50 years that Juliana and Phillip were not involved in Golden Circle politics. Eric naturally has his Weir and Arryl is among them.

Oh, good. She's obviously relieved to hear he has Weir in the city, and is then chagrined at herself for being so relieved.

She enjoys her little buzz that should hold out for awhile, since it was followed by food. She really enjoys the discussion, even puzzling out the differences. She tries to refrain from saying anything that could be construed like, "You should secure your position in Amber," but she certainly tries to lay before him any insight she thinks might help him do just that.

When the food is gone, and the discussion dies down, she says, "We should find a raging party in Southside. I haven't been able to have any real fun so far at Carnival since we've been..." she shrugs. "Can you? Come with, I mean?"

"I will try," he says. "I would certainly not leave you alone under such circumstances."

She sighs. "Surely I can tell James and Janet and they can watch me? I'm not interested in you rearranging your schedule to babysit me. I'll stay in and read before I do that."

"I'm not sure I could have that on my conscience," he smiles.

"Well, she, I mean, I have some books there I could use reading. Considering what's going on in my place." She smiles sheepishly. "It wouldn't kill me, while partying might."

"You could go with Deirdre."

"I can trust her - because I'd have to tell her?" she asks.

"If this condition persists for any length of time, she will discover it. She is quite good at such things."

"Ah, Ricky," she smiles. "You did not answer my question, my wiley raccoon. Can I trust her?"

He chuckles. "Like a sister." Then, "She has little to gain from exposing you and she might be intrigued by the mystery of your situation. But, in the end, you have to know that there is no one you can really trust completely. None of us are entirely what we seem. Julian is not the slow quiet one he pretends to be. Flora is not the helpless fool. Caine is not the carousing villain. Gerard not the friendly oaf. We all have our masks and our reasons for wearing them. You must always be on your guard. Even around friends and loved ones. Especially around friends and loved ones."

All her playfullness falls away, and she reaches out a hand to lay on his leg. She's trying to be comforting. She has such sympathy for him in her eyes.

"Would it be safer for me to go out to the estates?" she asks, not wanting to go.

"It could well be," Eric replies. "But I am uncertain it is wise. You would have to deal with your family. Perhaps they would help you recover in restful surroundings. Or perhaps it would just cause you further stress. Regardless, you can not be hidden away forever and remain who you are."

"Ah, my lord, I fear I am doomed," she says quietly. She sighs. "I shall have to take my chances with Deirdre and Patrice, I suppose. Neither of them has betrayed me yet, even if Deirdre makes me jealous unto insanity."

Eric arches an eyebrow.

"With Phillip," she says shortly.

"I see," Eric replies, keeping his expression studiously neutral.

She snorts and starts cleaning up. Eric helps Juliana with the clean up and the packing. Soon they are ready to resume their ride. She doesn't say anything, but seems to be... brooding. She'll stay quiet for the ride back too - although the ride does cheer her up, especially having to concentrate on keeping Corsair under control.

As they ride in silence, the follow a stream. Corsair and Star grow increasingly apprehensive. They see a woman bending over in the stream. Her back is to Juliana and Eric. Juliana will let Eric handle this. Her job is to be supportive so he looks less threatening, and to break him out of a trance, if she's some sort of nymph or something.

The horses seem increasingly nervous. Eric reins Star in and comes to a halt. The woman turns around. She has what appears to be washing in her hands. She is dressed as one might expect a peasant woman to be clothed. But her fetures are beautiful. Her skin is like fina china. Her lips ruby. Her long hair as black as night. And her eyes are the color of the sky. They are, in fact, precisely the same color as Eric's eyes.

For his part, Eric's eyes go wide. He has an expression that Juliana has never seen on him before: fear.

She immediately and strictly attempts to move Corsair, and herself, between he and his horse and this woman. Fairly loudly she says, "Eric, it's not real. It's a trick, an illusion, or something. Look at how the horses are acting."

Once she has Corsair between them she will be trying to use Corsair to push him away from the... woman who looks like his mother. The woman's features are a perfect match for Faiella.

Once Juliana is between Eric and the woman, the woman appears to have vanished.

She looks at him, her eyes filled with great concern. "Breathe, love." For some time, Eric silently stares at the spot where the women stood. Eventually, he turns to continue riding.

She follows his lead, even quieter than before, if that's possible. She's very alert now, waiting for more. He's shocked. He's thinking. She's not going to interrupt that process. If he thinks of something he wants to discuss he'll do it.

Along the way, Eric eventually speaks. "Thank you."

"You would have done the same for me," she says quietly. Then, more at her normal level, "I wish I knew what has happened to loose the ghosts and let magic act wildly and in general degrade the stablity of the realm."

She looks around to make sure there is no one she can see about. "Is the King sick?"

"Not that I am aware," Eric replies. "He certainly seemed healthy enough while in the company of the Begman Prime Minister's wife the other night."

Juliana snorts and smiles. "Well, then, it can't be that. It seems like the effects here have not been as great as the effects in... my place. Perhaps it happened because you are with me, and I do not belong, and draw other things that do not to me?" she speculates.

"I doubt it has anything to do with you, love."

She smiles again. "I hope not. Just... rushing scenarios. It *is* what I do. Just tell me to stop."

Eric smiles at her, take her hand and kisses it. "Stop," he says.

She smiles a little smile and bites her lip, because stopping is easier said than done. Her mind has not stopped.

"Is there anything I can do? Research... or..." she shrugs.

"You should probably just relax. Rest. Party. Whatever you choose. I will be tied up for a time with business, but can join you later. I can put you in contact with Deirdre if you like."

She nods. "Hook me up with Deirdre. I'll see how long I can fool her before she figures me out."

Eric shakes his head and smiles. "You do like to live dangerously."

She grins. "I have to find all my limits, again," she explains, just a touch defensively.

Eric nods. "Very well."

After the horses are cared for, Eric escorts Juliana back to her rooms. "Shall I have Deirdre meet you here?" Eric asks.

"That'd be fine. I'm going to get a bath, so, tell her to give me an hour or so," she smiles.

She'll bathe. Must get off horse smell. Then she goes looking for clothes good enough for her to stand next to Deirdre in, but will let her dance, drink, and run. Some kind of dress that she can wear boots with.

Juliana does in fact accept the help of her lady's maid, if Ellen is about, quietly, and takes a nice long relaxing bath.

-- Main.LizTrumitch - 22 Apr 2006