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Chapter Text

Juliet's boots clicked loud through the empty halls of Bright Moon, the gentle light of Etheria's moons streaming in through graceful arches. Though it was home to her, it felt strange to see it this peaceful late in the evening, considering it had been a makeshift military headquarters nearly all her life. It was supposed to be busy, stressed, and full of chattering people, not empty and cold, with high ceilings and chipped murals depicting ancient battles and long-dead monarchs.

She stifled a yawn and shifted the heavy stack of papers in her hands. One more errand, bringing the full transcripts of Shadow Weaver's interrogation -- in excruciating detail -- that the Head Sorceress from Mystacor had specially requested. The bureaucratic pace of Bright Moon had tripled since the new alliance had formed, and as usual, it had fallen to the senior staff to pick up the slack. Mostly Juliet, though; she hadn't worked earlier than nightfall in the last few months. She'd be glad when Shadow Weaver was out of the way, at least, and she could refocus on the war.

Juliet paused as she reached her destination. A voice, not quite shouting but raised and irate, was coming muffled through the bedroom door. She pressed her close-filed nails against her palm. Juliet had no right to eavesdrop. But despite herself, she leaned closer, training her ears on the voice.

"She has NO right to be here... as soon as she showed up I wanted to... if Angella wants to keep her around for "information", fine, but... should be punished, not given creature comforts and reading material... 'Bright Moon prison', my ass..."

Juliet bit her lip. Was there someone inside with her? She didn't want to interrupt anything. She shifted the papers in her hands, tapping her foot on the stone floor. She'd just knock, give her the papers quickly, and be on her--

A dull thunk came from inside the room, followed by a yelp. "Fucking--! Stupid fucking side table piece of shit..."

Juliet exhaled, closed her eyes briefly, and knocked on the door. The voice ceased abruptly, and a moment passed before the door slid open and the Sorceress emerged, dressed down in a flowing nightgown, her hair loose around her shoulders and her halo absent. Her eyebrows darted up in surprise as soon as she registered Juliet, lips parting slightly. "Oh, uh, general! What brings here you so late?"

A rush of anxiety shot through Juliet's body. She had seen her in the alliance meetings before, though she'd never paid her much mind before -- she only attended once every couple of weeks, and when she was there, she was hidden on the other side of Angella, speaking only to update the alliance on Mystacor's activities. Now, seeing her close up for the first time, it surprised her how expressive her face was, her eyes wide and inquisitive, eyebrows cinched at the peak of her brow. She wasn't wearing lipstick, she noticed. She usually wore lipstick.

Juliet realized she was staring. She swallowed, forcing her mouth to form words. "The uh... the interrogation records you requested. They took..." Castaspella nodded with each word Juliet spoke, rapt with attention. It was distracting. "They took a little longer to compile than I thought."

The sorceress's expression hardened, and she took the proffered documents, flicking through the pages with a frown. Juliet breathed a sigh of relief as she broke eye contact.

"Since she went ahead without me..." She looked back up at Juliet. "Thank you for getting these to me today. You must have worked awfully late."

"Oh, i-it's nothing," Juliet protested, cheeks growing hot. "I, uh, I usually work this late. Orders to finalize, reports to go through. You know, bureaucracy, uh... stuff..."

"Oh, tell me about it. If being head sorceress were as fun as they made it out to be, I'd look ten years younger!" She laughed, a warm, fluttering sound that gave Juliet a similar feeling in her chest -- almost making up for how remarkably unfunny the joke was. Her eyes shut when she laughed, elegantly and lightly rather than screwed shut. Her laugh felt... practiced. Almost artificial. But nonetheless, it was comforting to hear.

Juliet realized again that she was staring, and that the sorceress was staring back, once again unblinking and rapt with attention. She seemed either unbothered by or unaware of Juliet's awkwardness, which she was thankful for. Still, it wouldn't hurt for her to... blink once in a while.

Desperate for something to break the tension, she threw a cursory glance to the room behind her, apparently devoid of any occupants. "Er... were you talking to someone?"

Castaspella blushed, shifting the pages beneath one arm. "N-no, sorry, it's just me. Does my voice carry?"

Juliet smirked, tilting her head. "Only halfway down the hall. You seem worried."

Her face soured, and put one hand on her hip. "I'm as worried as we should be. Only one guard by her door, in a room with a window?" Her voice raised to half a shout, and it echoed down the corridor in the silence. "And Angella gives her a fucking armchair?!"

"Whoa, whoa," Juliet said calmly, glancing nervously down the hall. "I agree. But she's as secure as she can be." She winced as Castaspella raised one eyebrow. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but that is the most secure room in the palace."

Castaspella faltered, but she kept her hand on her hip, holding the papers firmly against her chest. "I still don't think she deserves a chair that fucking plush."

"I don't think Bright Moon has anything less," Juliet mumbled.

Castaspella scoffed. "That bitch deserves the floor. If Angella can't learn to be tough, maybe she shouldn't be running a war effort..."

Castaspella trailed off, muttering under her breath. Juliet didn't respond. The Queen didn't have it in her to be cruel. Ever since the very beginning of the rebellion standing orders were to capture, not kill, if it could be helped. But Bright Moon did not have a prison, or even a single cell -- a dire security flaw that bothered her to this day -- and so most of their prisoners were sent to Plumeria, or Salineas, or the many towns and principalities surrounding Bright Moon where they could be rehabilitated and integrated back into Etherian society. Anyone too dangerous to rehabilitate was sent to the Crimson Waste.

Juliet agreed with the system, for the most part. But with someone like Shadow Weaver, they could not run the risk of letting her go free, so she stayed in the palace. Juliet didn't like it, but Angella was the Queen, and Juliet was her general. She carried out her orders unquestioningly, regardless of her scruples.

"Angella's... er, Queen Angella's complicated," Juliet finally said. Castaspella narrowed her eyes for a second, but looked away and huffed.

It was another moment before either of them spoke. Juliet didn't want to leave just yet, and Castaspella thankfully made no attempt to make her. So Juliet swallowed, set her shoulders, and pressed her luck further.

"Do you two -- uh, you and Shadow Weaver, that is -- have a history together?"

Castaspella's face darkened, and she looked down. "You could say that."

"Oh, sorry, I--"

"No, no, it's fine, it's practically public knowlege." Castaspella sighed heavily, settling herself, her hands clasped across the bundle of papers. "She was a sorceress at Mystacor a long time ago. I barely knew her when I was very young, and later only through second-hand accounts." She scowled. "She was an abhorrent woman."

"I could tell you that," Juliet mumbled, and Castaspella chuckled lightly before continuing.

"She corrupted Micah. Or, well, she tried to. She took an interest in him when he was a child, filling his mind with praise and encouragement and words of affirmation. He... he looked up to her a lot, I think." She shifted uncomfortably, but continued. "She was never anything more than a cruel, sadistic witch to the rest of us. She saw power in Micah, I think, and that's why she was more or less kind to him."

"She wanted to fight the Horde when it took over the Fright Zone, but the council was opposed to it. Back then, Mystacor didn't interfere with the affairs of Etheria, and an all-out war was unheard of. And the methods she suggested... they were unthinkable." She took a shaky breath. "So she went over their heads. She tricked him -- or mind controlled him, or threatened him, or something -- into enacting a dark ritual, a spell that's been banned for hundreds of years. He stopped halfway through, so she was the only one affected, thankfully. I-I don't know all the details, but the Spell of Obtainment is more a curse than a blessing. It turned her into... whatever she is now."

"She left Mystacor, but not before she killed the Head Sorcerer and a couple other sorcerers. Micah never forgave her for that, and neither did the council. She was a mentor to him, as close to a parent as any of us had. I think it hurt him more than he lets--" She faltered, face falling. "Than he let on."

Juliet looked down at her feet, more or less speechless. She was never good with words, but to this... what could she even say? Until yesterday she had hardly heard of Shadow Weaver other than as Hordak's mysterious second-in-command who lurked, deep in the Fright Zone, working behind the scenes on the great engine of war. Someone to be feared, but as mythical as Hordak himself, never showing her face on the battlefield.

And Micah... Micah was King Micah, a military leader, a stoic commanding officer. She was perhaps closer to him than the rest of her commanders, but not by much, and only briefly. She didn't know his fears, the scars that Shadow Weaver must have left.

"I'm, uh..." Juliet cleared her throat, meeting her eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Castaspella smiled gently. "Right now it seems like everyone's just... forgiving her, even after everything she's done. It doesn't seem right."

Juliet sighed, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She couldn't help but agree, and she wished she could offer more than just words of comfort. A more appropriate cell, shackles around her wrists, penance for Micah, for all the people she'd hurt over the years. But she couldn't. It wasn't up to her.

She settled for "Yeah."

Castaspella suddenly broke eye contact, fiddling with the hem of her robe, and Juliet suddenly felt enormously self-conscious. What kind of business did she have, barging into a foreign dignitary's room late at night, asking her questions about her past? She straightened up suddenly and took a step back, saluting a bewildered Castaspella.

"What are you--?"

"Have a good night, ma'am. I'm sorry to keep you up so late."

"Um... good night," Casta crinkled her eyebrows, nodding hesitantly. "General."

Juliet nodded curtly and walked off down the hall, feeling the tips of her ears grow hot under the sorceress' gaze. She was almost around the corner, nails pressed tight into the palm of her hand, when Castaspella's voice rang out.

"It's Juliet, right?"

Juliet froze and turned around slowly to face her, eyes wide. The sorceress was standing there, hands clasped in front of her stomach, eyes unreadable.

"Am I right?"

"Uh..." Juliet stammered for a moment, bewildered. "Yeah, uh... yes, ma'am, that's my name."

Castaspella smiled -- just a little, just enough to make her eyes soften and the tension in her lips relax. "Then good night, General Juliet." She stepped back inside her room, shutting the doors with a soft click.

Juliet spun back around and practically bound down the hallway, eyes wide. No one called her by her name. It was a custom in the military: princesses, sorcerers, and otherwise remarkable individuals were referred to by name, soldiers by their rank. Few even knew her name, apart from a few close friends, and perhaps her mother. She-Ra, Queen Angella, Commander Glimmer, Commander Bow, the Princesses, they all referred to her as "General", and she liked it that way. It was professional, direct, and descriptive.

So what was this sorceress doing calling her Juliet?

She shook her head. She would figure this out tomorrow. Sleep deprived, mind buzzing with the voice of this strange, beautiful sorceress, she did her best to steady her mind and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

She would figure this out tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Juliet hadn't glanced at Casta once during the whole alliance meeting. She could be sure of it; she had been watching her almost the entire time.

They were discussing the imminent invasion of the Horde. Tensions were high; they hadn't made a direct attack on the Fright Zone since the first alliance, and the last time... well, things went wrong. Angella was more driven than Castaspella had seen her in a long time, though, and she was adamant that they would not fail, now that they had She-Ra on their side.

She-Ra. Casta frowned at the three empty chairs to her left. They were supposed to contain Glimmer, Bow, and Adora, but they stood empty more than half the time, the three off on some mission by themselves while the older members ran the rebellion. She was proud of them for fighting so hard at such a young age, and for having so much to show for it. But if something happened to them between now and the invasion of the Horde, their whole plan would fall apart. She hoped that Angella knew where they were.

She bit her lip and turned back to the meeting. Juliet was at her feet, helmet beneath one arm, the other outstretched to gesture at a holographic line of troops. She usually kept her hair tucked behind her ear, but when she leaned down it slipped out and fell in a silky sheet across her face, and she brushed it back with her pointing hand when she stood back up. It was like Casta's -- smooth and shiny and perfectly straight -- but it wasn't quite black, more of a deep purple that trapped and warmed the soft, diffuse white light of the war room.

Staring at Juliet was not a new problem for her. She had first seen the general on her first visit to bright moon in nearly thirteen years, just after the formation of the new alliance. Castaspella sat in Micah's chair as the liaison from Mystacor, to the left of Angella, and Juliet sat just two chairs away, hidden behind Angella's towering seven foot form. Juliet mostly stood, though, running through battle plans and logistics reports, briefing the alliance on the matters at hand, always with a helmet beneath her arm as if she were always ready to charge into battle. Sometimes, she paced around the room, stroking her chin with a free hand or running her fingers through her hair. Sometimes her hair was pinned up in a floppy bun, her dark skin slightly slick from her last workout, her cheeks still flushed from exertion. No, staring at Juliet was not new.

But having spoken to Juliet, hearing the calm evenness of her voice in the late evening, the way she chose her words carefully to avoid misspeaking, the way her eyes darted back and forth between steady eye contact and nervous avoidance, everything seemed different. She noticed more: the way her eyebrows drew together ever so slightly when she disagreed with someone, the way she paused when she was called upon to speak before replying as if hand-picking her words, the way she narrowed her eyes when people overlooked a fact or detail, but didn't bring it up until a lull in the conversation allowed it. She wasn't timid, but she was quiet and careful, and she never said anything without knowing what she meant. It was refreshing, at least, next to most of the teenagers running the rebellion.

She felt a nudge from her left, and jolted back to consciousness to see the rest of the table staring at her -- Juliet included, having caught Castaspella staring at her from her position beside the table. Mermista snickered under her breath.

"I asked," Angella repeated, "How many reserves can Mystacor pull to the front lines?"

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, I was--" she stammered, bolting up out of her seat "--just daydreaming! Silly me, silly me." She laughed loudly, ignoring the silence in the room and Angella's gaze hot upon her neck. She cleared her throat and looked down at the documents in her hands. "I-I looked over our positions last night. I believe we can pull all of our sorcerers from Thaymor and Ulilia to the front lines, but the rest will need to remain in support of Erelandia and the Plumerian border."

"Only two?" Angella frowned, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. "And how many sorcerers does that total?"

She shifted the papers in her hands, fingers trembling slightly. "Twenty-eight, your majesty."

Angella was silent as Casta returned to her seat, face burning. It wasn't like her to be so clumsy, and it didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the table: Spinnerella ducked behind her hand to whisper to a snickering Netossa, and Mermista was looking at her with a raised eyebrow, one boot firmly inside a holographic Horde battalion. Castaspella avoided her gaze, fiddling with her nails beneath the table.

Angella finally spoke, giving Casta a much-needed break from the spotlight "It will have to do. General, can our forces securing the Northern Reach arrive in a support position on time?"

She felt a pang of annoyance even as the general stepped forward. 'It will have to do?' Did she think it was easy to find volunteer soldiers in a school that only barely taught combat magic? Mystacor was firmly against involving itself in the rebellion, and here she was sticking her neck out to help them, and taking a major risk to her reputation to do so. She sat forwards slightly, lifting a hand. "Excuse me, Angella, I--"

"If they leave tonight, maybe," Juliet interrupted her, and Casta flushed, retreating back into her chair. "They will have to move quickly, and they will be tired and not ready for a hard fight."

Angella nodded and stood, her wings casting a shadow across the table. "Then we will pick up this discussion tomorrow. We all have business to take care of and orders to send out."

Where it was filled with only fluttering annoyance before, now her chest filled with rage, and she sat forward with a mouth open to protest.

"Angella, excuse me--" Casta turned around to see Angella, apparently deaf to her voice, already striding out of the war room's door.

Casta scowled and turned back to the table, stooping to gather her things. Of course she would brush her off. She never really considered her input valuable, only allowing her a seat at the table as a courtesy to her. They wanted her soldiers, but not her strategies; they would ask her to imprison Shadow Weaver with magic, but they wouldn't let her take her back to Mystacor herself. To vent her frustations she kicked the leg of the table, yelping as it sent a jolt of pain back up her leg.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Casta turned to see Spinnerella, hand-in-hand with Netossa, their faces plagued with concern. Anxiety rose in her chest, but she pushed it down, letting out a breath and putting on a smile. "Oh! Yes, I'm fine. Just a little clumsy today."

"Riiight," Said Netossa, narrowing her eyes. "You just kicked a chair, I saw it happen. So what's wrong?"

Casta threw up her hands. "It's Angella! It's always Angella, I don't know why I bothered with this stupid alliance in the first place if she won't even listen to me."

Netossa opened her mouth to say something, but Spinnerella put a hand on her arm. "Do you think you should talk to her?" She asked kindly.

"Hmph. Of course not. It's never gotten anything done before."

"You'll talk to her," said Netossa firmly, "And you'll get her to listen to you."

Casta hesitated. It would be good to give Angella a piece of her mind. Plus, she could find out where Glimmer was, since no one else seemed to know -- unless it was another secret that Casta 'didn't need to know about'.

"Fine, I will," she relented, though she wasn't happy about it.

"And then you'll tell us what's actually bothering you," Finished Netossa, smiling knowingly. "You're never that out of it. You almost fell out of your seat when Spinnerella touched you."

"I was... I didn't get enough sleep last night." Casta said, trying to sound nonchalant despite her rising nerves.

"Mhm." Netossa raised an eyebrow. "Who kept you up, then?"

"I--" Casta felt her face growing hot and she hastily shoved the remaining stacks of documents into a small clutch that was far too small to fit them, though they slipped inside with no trouble. "No one! I was just working late."

"See? See?! I told you." Spinnerella giggled, and poked at Netossa's arm eagerly. "I told you there was someone at her quarters last night."

"Yeah, I know, I was there too, sweetie," Netossa teased, crossing her arms and leaning on the table next to Casta. "So who was it?"

"It wasn't any-- wait, what do you mean, 'you were there?'"

"Uh, our room is right across from yours."

"Mhm. Guest wing. The walls are pretty thin."

"I'm surprised you haven't come and visit. What, is your new friend suddenly better than your old besties?"

"I-- What--" Casta stammered, looking back and forth between the two of them. They had a habit of finishing each other's sentences, peppering her with rapid fire questions until she collapsed under the pressure. "There's no 'new friend'. Someone came by to drop off Shadow Weaver's interrogation report, that's all."

Netossa rolled her eyes. "Who came by? It was, like, ten o'clock at night. Someone doesn't stop by that late."

"Oh, come on." Casta turned to walk out the door, but found her path barred by the smirking couple. She tried to duck around them, but they cornered her against the table, and her face flushed a shade darker despite her internal protests. "It was business, nothing more. Look, I have things to do, would you let me--"

"Was it that sea elf you were always talking to?" Spinerella asked, coming a step closer. "I always knew you thought she was pretty."

"Ooh, she was pretty!"

"No, it wasn't her! She's not even a member of the rebellion," Castaspella finally managed to slip past Spinnerella, but her cape caught in Netossa's outstretched hand. She whirled around, snatching it back. "Excuse me?!"

"Then who was it?" Spinnerella asked playfully, ignoring Casta's protestations. "One of the soldiers? You always had a thing for uniforms."

"No! Would the two of you just leave me alone?!"

"You really don't want us to know, do you?" Netossa grinned. "Ooh, was it Angella?"

"You-- What?!" Casta's voice raised to a squeak, and her face flushed a deep red.

"Is that why you're so 'frustrated' with her?'

Netossa nodded. "Very particular choice of words there."

"No, it wasn't Angella," Casta interrupted, wringing her hands at her sides. "Of course it wasn't Angella! Why won't you two leave me alone?"

"Because you haven't had a date in, like, ever," Netossa cocked an eyebrow. "And whoever you were talking to sounded pretty interested in you. Oh, and we're kind and thoughtful friends."

"You are clearly not 'kind and thoughtful' friends or you'd know I don't date women," Casta said, snatching her clutch to her chest. "And therefore, there is nothing going on, you can leave me alone, good bye!"

Face bright red, Casta turned to stride hastily out of the room, but not before Spinnerella could mutter to her wife:

"I told you."

"Come on, we all knew she was lying."

"Yes, but I told you first."

Chapter Text

Juliet carefully lifted the tureen of hot wax, pouring it globule by globule onto the last of five envelopes. She always thought the formality of them was overzealous, but the Queen had insisted on maintaining their traditional techniques for delivering orders. Computers could be hacked, messengers intercepted, but magical transportation was almost undetectable, if a little cumbersome. She was glad to have Mystacor back in the alliance.

She stamped the wax with a little more force than necessary, and a droplet splattered off and struck her hand. She cursed and shot to her feet, knocking her chair flat on its back. Quit thinking about Mystacor, she chided herself. It was a stressful time, and every distraction compounded, threatening their victory. It was just like her to pick up one more than she could afford.

She was lucky that Bright Moon had a waterfall around every corner. There was one just outside, in the little courtyard that her office was tucked into. It was at the very edge of Bright Moon, a stone's throw from the expansive campground that made up the bulk of the rebellion's headquarters. It had almost doubled over the past week or so as they prepared for their invasion, soldiers arriving and bolstering their normally stationed forces. Her workload had proportionately quadrupled.

She shook her hands dry and made the short but oft-dreaded walk back to her office. The alliance meetings were almost a reprieve compared to her normal duties -- conducting troop inspections, preparing and sending orders, and navigating the nightmare that was the internal politics of the rebellion. She had a suspicion that Angella promoted people based on their abilities to fight rather than their ability to give and follow orders -- Commander Glimmer was proof enough -- and she was the one to suffer for it. The more of her subordinates that 'disagreed' with her orders, the slower the bureaucracy went, and the less effective the rebellion army became. So much for the perfect Queen.

A familiar face turned the corner as she made to open her office door, snapping her from her reverie. He was tall, earrings dangling from pointed ears and dark hair shorn close. He smiled when he turned the corner, raising an arm in greeting.

"Juliet!" Mercuria called, jogging to meet her.

"Commander Mercuria," Juliet nodded slowly, but she didn't hide her smile. "It's good to see you again. Though you're back very early; did everything go as planned?"

"Yes, ma'am. The conduit just took less time to install than we thought."

"Do you have a report?"

"Oh, yes." He dug into the bag he had slung over his shoulder and passed her a folder, and his face turned grim. "I have news from the Whispering Woods, as well. Two scouting teams are presumed missing."

"Both of them?" Juliet scanned the pages, opening the door to her office without looking. "I had hoped we could gather more intel, but if they're wise to it..."

"We can't risk another," Mercuria finished. "But you're right, we do need more intel."

"Mm. Agreed." Juliet dropped the report on her desk, atop a pile of similarly unread reports. "I'll see if Commander Glimmer can go out scouting tomorrow."

Mercuria glanced around at her office, smirking. "I leave you for a week and this is what happens...?"

Juliet rolled her eyes. Documents spilling out onto the floor, a stack of record books waiting to be reshelved constantly growing in a corner of her desk, the floorboards stained with ink and wax, her office was a complete mess. Somehow, the ability to keep busy and keep tidy was impossible for her, especially when she had more pressing issues to think about.

Like the dozen rebellion soldiers who had gone missing just approaching Horde territory. She raked her fingernails across her desk, scraping dried wax from the surface and dropping it back into its warmer. If the Horde was that strong, maybe it wasn't time for an invasion yet...

"I've been busy," She said in understatement, replacing the warmer on its stand in the fireplace. "I'm somehow the only one in this place who actually knows how to run an army, so I have a lot to do."

"Hey, you're not the only one," Mercuria replied, picking up half of the stack of records and beginning to shelve them. "I'm back now. You don't have to work on your own."

"Thank the first ones," Juliet sighed, lifting her chair from the floor and collapsing into it, rubbing her temples. "Someone to deal with my so-called subordinates."

Mercuria paused, giving Juliet a once-over and frowning. "You're sure you're okay?"

"No," Juliet replied, "But it's not really in my job description to be."

Mercuria shelved the remaining books in silence before stooping and beginning to gather documents off the floor. Juliet opened her eyes and watched for a few seconds before she let out a small laugh. "You have to have something else to do."

"Right now? No." Mercuria slid open a drawer, clipping the files together and dropping them into a folder. "Although I'd like nothing more than to go back to teaching clueless teenagers to hold a sword without stabbing each other, my friend needs help." He returned to her desk, leaning his fists on its surface. "What's wrong?"

Juliet dodged his eyeline, running a hand through her hair. "I'm overworked. That's all."

"No, there's something else. Hey--" He snapped his fingers in front of her face, and Juliet reluctantly met his gaze. "--look at me and tell me what's bothering you."

"I..." Juliet faltered. She couldn't say what was really keeping her attention so divided, what gave her a headache trying to wrap her head around, what was staring at her for the whole of an alliance meeting earlier that afternoon. Mercuria didn't need to know her personal issues, though he seemed adamant to pry whenever afforded the opportunity. No, the issue was figuring out a lie that Mercuria would believe, if such a lie existed. She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm frustrated with Angella, I guess."

"Angella? Why?"

"She's..." Juliet scratched behind her ear as she tried to come up with the right words. "Indecisive."

"Indecisive?"

"Yeah. She's keeping Shadow Weaver in the castle, even though--"

"Wait, Shadow Weaver? Here?!" Mercuria straightened incredulously, eyes wide.

"Yes. She defected from the Horde. At least, that's what she told us."

"The second-in-command of the Horde?" Mercuria laughed, though it was more out of disbelief than humor. "We're keeping her here? We don't even have a fucking prison."

"She's up in one of the sitting rooms, held by a magic circle." Juliet smiled at the ridiculousness of it. "I know. Apparently, she doesn't have the strength to escape, or she'd have done it already. Or she has an ulterior motive."

"By Etheria, Angella..." Mercuria shook his head, sinking into a chair across Juliet's desk. "Why isn't she being taken to Mystacor? Or the Kingdom of Snows?"

Juliet shrugged. "Angella said she didn't want to 'impose on the other princesses'."

Mercuria scoffed. "We're in an alliance." Mercuria shook his head. "I don't get it. We need to get her transferred out of here as soon as we can."

"We can't. She'd escape."

"Teleportation. There's a sorcerer from Mystacor here, right?"

Something rose in Juliet's chest, but she shoved it back down and tried to ignore the warmth in the tips of her ears. "Yes. Apparently the head sorceress."

"Well, that makes it easier. We can get her approval and move her tonight, if she's the one in charge."

"Uh..." Juliet bit her lip, scratching at the back of her hand with her slightly-too-long nails. "I don't think that'll happen."

"Oh, Angella?" Mercuria rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I don't suck up to her the way you do."

"I do not suck up to her!" Julied retorted, her face flushing.

"Yes, you do. I've never seen you once go against her orders. You think it's loyalty, but you're really too scared to contradict her." Mercuria smirked. "I never had that problem."

Juliet's closed her mouth, swallowing a reply. Was that true? She followed orders, that was all. It wasn't like she'd never advised the Queen of alternatives, but once she made a decision, her word was final. That's what her father had taught her, that's the way it was supposed to stay.

She shook her head. "Look, Angella's not going to let it happen. There's too much a risk of her escaping, and Mystacor... I don't think Mystacor will take her."

"Wait, why not?"

"I-I have a feeling, okay?" Juliet dropped her eyes to the desk, pulling the stack of unsealed orders towards her to avoid his gaze.

Mercuria narrowed his eyes. "You have a 'feeling'? I thought you said you barely knew the head sorceress."

"I don't! I've seen her in meetings, that's all."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

A smile pulled at Mercuria's lips. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened!" Juliet stammered, feeling her face grow hot and rubbing her temples with "Why are you like this, for Etheria's sake..."

"Because if you have a girlfriend I don't know about, we need to have a serious discussion about what 'best friends' means."

"She's not--! Look, Mercuria..." Juliet cradled her head in her hands, ignoring the creeping grin on her friend's face. "Even if I did like her -- and I don't, you can stop looking at me like that -- I can't date a foreign dignitary. It'd be inappropriate."

"Tell that to Angella."

"That's different!" She rose, running a hand through her hair and pacing around the office. "Angella is the Queen. And Micah wasn't the head sorcerer, he was just another person."

"From where I'm sitting, you look like 'just another person' to me." Mercuria raised an eyebrow. "Or did you forget that you're something besides the General of Bright Moon?"

Juliet paused, biting her lip. She had forgotten, but she'd done it intentionally for the sake of the kingdom. She shook her head and stooped to withdraw the wax warmer from the fire. "It's neither the time nor place."

Mercuria shrugged and stood, straightening his bag against his hip. "Well, if you're this deep in denial, there's nothing I can do to help." He walked past Juliet towards the door, but stopped before he opened it. "At least talk to her about moving Shadow Weaver into Mystacor. 'For the rebellion's sake' or whatever. I'll take care of Angella."

"I-- thank you." Juliet sighed as the door clicked shut again, standing and replacing the wax on her desk. She worked with Castaspella, she would have to talk to her eventually, and this was the best opportunity she had to approach her with a pretense of formality. She hoped it wouldn't turn personal, but if it did, she would clear the air, establish that this was not a relationship that could happen. That was all.

That was all.