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Chapter Text

"The knight gathers the pieces
Of his body broken asunder
And rises to the heavens

His beloved oak tree
Alone on a hill
Waves slender branches in the wind

Oh, dearest beloved
When the snow melts
I shall rend my body
And with my new leaves
Sing a song for thee

How I wish the wind
Would carry my voice to thee"

Maxi stirred as a soft zephyr tickled across her cheek, the afternoon sunlight filtering across her freckles. It was a chilly autumn, but the dream she just had--of knights and song and nymphs and festivals--had left a warmth rising from the pit of her belly, spreading to her fingertips. Still, as reality settled in, she pulled against her cardigan and rose, brushing grass off her skirt.

"Maxi-paaaad," came a voice from the courtyard. It was Anette, her roommate, dashing towards her with a tote bag full of books. Maxi scowled as she smoothed her red curls.

"I h-hate it when you c-call me that," said Maxi. "How w-would you like it if I called you something like, like, like--" at a loss for an equally embarrassing nickname her friend, she trailed off.

"Oh, please. So dramatic." Anette fanned her hand in dismissal. "I came to fetch you. We're going to be late for Serbel's seminar. Didn't you want him to write you a letter of rec? It won't do you any good to play hooky."

"I w-would have...remembered." They both knew she probably wouldn't have, given the all-nighter Maxi had pulled last night, fixing up her application to discuss with the aforementioned professor. "Thank you, though," Maxi added.

"You can just buy us a round," Anette grinned. "We're going to Rheydn's later."

Rheydn was the university town's craft brewery, and by 'we', Anette meant her and their other roommate, Sidina. Maxi rolled her eyes and said nothing to indicate her assent, lest she get roped into paying for a whole night of drunken depravity. They cut across the courtyard of Wedon University, red and orange leaves crunching underneath their boots. Despite the chill of the northeast, the air in the courtyard smelled richly of warmth and spice, most likely due to the nearby dining hall preparing for the upcoming dinner rush. The church bell rang thrice, indicating the time.

Anette and Maxi waited for a car to pass by an intersection, then headed to the center of campus. There, past the student union, they saw Sidina emerge from the library. Anette called out to her, and Maxi waved. Sidina rushed towards them, grinning, her twin braids flailing in the wind.

"Look," she said, immediately, pointing distantly at the stadium. "The basketball team just finished practice."

Maxi peered over across the river that split the campus into two. Along its surface, patches had already formed into sheets of ice. The typically violent flock of geese that parked themselves along the bank of water had migrated south a couple weeks ago, leaving the lake quiet, tranquil, and eerily reflective. She saw the athletes' reflections before their actual figures, their tall statures hazy in the water, marred by lilypads and sleet. Maxi studied the reflections, the vague shapes of their tunics, the numbers unreadable, and looked up. A gaggle of girls had surrounded the basketball team, crowding around them like sleek eels in their shiny tights and curls. Maxi could hear their giggles, even from across the water, and she grimaced. 

Wedon University, a research university known more for its engineering and biology prowess, had never been one for sports, but in the past decade, it was rumored that a wealthy alumna had poured boundless amounts of money into recruiting promising players. With that, the university had gone from D3 to D1 in a matter of years. The Wedon Dragons--a ridiculous mascot that looked like it belonged on a cereal box, thought Maxi--were now known to be the best in the Seven Kingdoms, having won some sort of championship three years in a row.

But Maxi had no interest in any kinds of sports, no interest in the sweat, stench, and testosterone-built rage that came with it. "We're going to be l-late," Maxi warned, but Sidina refused to budge, her soft voice coming out in a throaty hum.

"Just a moment," she said. "They're coming this way."

And sure enough, the majority of the team strutted towards the campus center, most likely intending for the parking structure behind them. The team was dressed in blue and white tank tops, the colors of the university, some wearing long-black sleeves underneath from the cold, with tall black socks and worn sneakers. They cut towering shadows across the flagstones and Maxi watched with blank fascination and awe as they took up the expanse of the campus center. Unwittingly, people parted for them like the Red Sea and, under the afternoon light, their skin glowed with sweat and sunshine.

"And there's Gabel." Sidina pointed to the shortest one in the back, the point guard, though by 'short' he still managed to tower over all three of them by nearly half a foot. "What a sight for sore eyes. My bias--"

"Bias? What are they, part of a boy band?" Anette snorted. Despite Anette's feigned disgust, Maxi knew Anette was rather partial to Elliot Caron, the shooting guard, having watched her friend's eyes linger over the tall, lanky brunette more than once as he passed by.

The captain, a senior and rumored to have been recruited for the university team years ago when he was but fourteen, was Riftan. Dark-haired, tan, intimidating, and known for his blazing hot-temper both on the court and off, he had been the star player as a freshman and, since a sophomore, led the team to victory for two consecutive years. Girls fawned over him relentlessly, squealing over his chiseled looks and brusque manner, teasingly calling him the Dark One whenever he passed. And, while Maxi privately agreed with their assessments over his appearance, she refused to let anyone know. Jerking her head, she beelined towards Keating Hall, leaving her two friends in her wake.

"Maxi-pad, wait up!" Anette chased after her, pulling on her sleeve, and Maxi turned to chastise her friend. When she did, however, she caught Riftan staring at them, his eyes dark and unreadable, and her face flushed all the way down to her toes.

"L-like I said, we're going to be--"

"Late, we know," Sidina finished.

"Like you would have remembered if I hadn't gouged you up from your nap." Anette rolled her eyes.

Without a word, Maxi dragged her roommates into the classroom.

###

They had arrived just on time. Professor Serbel had been setting up his laptop in the front, and they settled as close as they could to the podium. The first few rows were, unfortunately, already occupied by their other classmates, along with the one graduate student TA-ing the class.

The TA looked bored and gave them but an irritated glance as they arrived, looking almost offended at the girls' noisy intrusion into the classroom. He shook his head, as if clearing it, before sinking his head onto the table for a fat cat nap.

Professor Serbel shot him a nasty look. "Ruth, I don't expect you to be necessarily, say, mentally present for an undergraduate seminar, but I do expect you to be awake."

Ruth didn't budge. In a fit of rage, Professor Serbel chucked an uncapped whiteboard marker at his TA's head. Ruth jumped up, scowling as he rubbed the right side of his scalp, his white hair dotted with splotches of green Expo, and Professor Serbel turned to the projector.

"Won't be a technical class today," he said, rapping at the screen. "We'll be covering the ethics of robotics, AI, machine learning, and large language models--"

"Aren't we supposed to be going over dimensionality reduction methods and association rule mining?" asked Royald at once, the syllabus pressed to his horn-rimmed glasses. He had spoken while punching his hand in the air. Maxi bit her lip, annoyed at his gall for interrupting the professor without being called on.

"Yes, I thought so too, but the university deems it prudent for us to go over ethics today," said Professor Serbel dryly. "Believe me, it's not something I've done before and I don't make a habit of breaking schedule, but given recent events..."

Maxi shuddered. At one of their sister universities to the west, Livadon College, a 'humanoid' robot had been programmed to silently target and kill a handful of students in one of the fourth floor dorm rooms. The murder weapon, a silenced .9mm pistol made from sanded 3d-printed parts, had been constructed along its right arm. It had knocked on each door of the fourth floor at 4AM--the only floor in the university where the inhabitants occupied single rooms--and with each open door, the robot shot each person squarely between their eyes, dragged the body back into their bed, then proceeded to the next room down the hall in a militaristic execution. When it completed its task, before anyone had noticed, the robot had crawled into the nearby dumpster and self-destructed, exploding into a pile of shrapnel and burnt ash, its micro-components utterly fried.

The police were, oddly, still trying to hunt down the culprit. Maxi had thought it wouldn't have been difficult to narrow down suspects in the area--who could possibly have the know-how, prowess, and even the lab to create such a robot?--but the lack of forensic evidence, motive, and witnesses seemed to stump the local law enforcement. Anette had dubbed the Livadonian police incompetent, as did everyone, but Maxi felt troubled, not by the ultimate inaction of the police, but by the motive of the culprit. The how wasn't necessarily the problem. Most graduate students, she reasoned, with could create such a robot right now with some tinkering. The question, of course, was why.

"Why let the one bad apple ruin our education? We're already pressed for time as it is with the second midterm coming up. I don't want to go over something utterly useless for the class." A girl next to Royald piped up and Maxi watched the rest of the class agree with grunts and nods. "Is the university scared we're going to create Pacific Rim Jaeger mechas?"

"Yeah, or gundams?" Sidina laughed. "If someone does make one, I'll be the first to pilot one and set fire to Government Hall."

"Sidina," Maxi hissed. But at that, the rest of the seminar had broken into a smattering of chatter and laughter.

Professor Serbel looked uncharacteristically conflicted and reticent as the seminar seemed to peel off into separate discussions. That said, after a few minutes, he called the class to order. Unlike other classes, where his lectures were math and notation-heavy, his slides were peppered with sparse bullet points in regards to the university dictated 'rules' of robotics and AI, text most likely copied from Wikipedia or ChatGPT. Typically, everyone hung onto the professor's words for dear life, furiously and painstakingly copying every dictated word and asking questions after every symbol, but today, no one but Maxi took notes. And even still, as she looked down at her spiral-bound notebook, the words below only signified emptiness and the university's need to escape liability should one of their students transgress like Livadon's. 

The fifth bell rang in the distance, a cue for the class to finish. Ruth bolted out the classroom and, again, Professor Serbel shot him yet another nasty look. The rest of the class took their time to leave, and Sidina whispered, "God, it looked like Professor Serbel wanted to hang himself as he was talking," and Anette cackled.

"I'll m-meet you both at Rheydn's l-later," said Maxi, clutching her book bag. They nodded, and soon it was just her and the professor. A brief din of silence carpeted the lecture hall.

"Miss Croyso," said the professor finally, acknowledging her presence. "Good job on the midterm."

"Th-thank you," she said. She had received an 85, and had been depressed all day until she realized the class average had been a 24. "I was hoping...to ask y-you something, P-professor Serbel."

He arched his brow, his grey hair fanning out around him, looking more like a wizened owl than an engineering academic. "Yes?"

"I-I'm applying for the R-reubenian fellowship and if--" Maxi flushed. Her innate stutter had always been something she found nerve-wracking and debilitating, but today, it felt nearly impossible to speak her request. Would he think her too impertinent? Too daring? She had, after all, received an 85 and not full marks on the midterm. But Professor Serbel waited patiently regardless, nodding as if to encourage her, and she stilled her trembling hands, willing herself to speak normally. "If it's not...too much...trouble....I'd like to ask for your letter of recommendation."

"Certainly," he said, almost immediately, and spoke as if he had expected her question all along. "That's due, what, in a month?"

"Y-yes."

"Tell me, Miss Croyso, do you possibly have any research experience?"

"Research?" Maxi balked. Should she have research experience already? Would he refuse to write her a letter without lab experience? "N-no, sir."

"I think your application would be greatly strengthened by a paper," he said, smiling. "There's a project I'm working with a graduate student on. We're just about wrapping it up, but I think you could possibly contribute to the final touches--we need a few figures, and a re-organization of the appendix and citations won't hurt, and Ruth--" Professor Serbel sighed. "Ruth has been dragging his feet on the more administrative side of these tasks. It wouldn't be much, just a middling name on the paper, but if you would like to help--"

"I-I'd love to!" Maxi glowed. Beyond the letter of recommendation, the request to join a paper had been much more than she had expected. "Nothing would make me h-happier."

"Fantastic." Professor Serbel looked relieved. "I'll tell Ruth, and you can email him later today to set up a time to discuss. I'm sure he'll be glad for your help."

###

Maxi skipped out of Keating Hall, joyful at the news, only to be greeted by a clammy, darkening sky and a nearly empty campus center. The street lights flickered to life and, soon, moths gathered around the only light sources along the bleak and cold campus. Maxi groaned. Having grown up in the Croyso Duchy, where the weather was temperate and spring lasted almost the full year, the winter sunlight felt impossibly short-lived in northern Wedon, especially after daylight savings. It was something she just couldn't get used to, even after almost four years at the university.

She had wanted to head back to her apartment to shower before heading to the bar, but she knew if she headed back to her room, she'd never leave it. Resigned, she checked her phone for bus times. As she turned a corner, making a shortcut towards the nearest stop, she bumped into someone's chest and barreled backwards.

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled, sitting up. To her mortification, the loose contents of her bag had spilled out. Her statistics textbook and notebooks, but also her chapstick, hair ties, and a handful of tampons. She snatched the tampons immediately, stuffing them into the front, and the stranger helped gather the remaining of her loose paraphernalia, his hands like a large bowl, and she hastily stuffed everything into her tote. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?"

She looked up. Staring down at her, with a menacing glare, was the looming profile of Riftan Calypse, the captain of the basketball team. She stifled back a scream of shock and inadvertently took a step back.

"Y-yes."

"It's dark out," he said mildly.

"..." Maxi only nodded. She had assumed he'd left, given that the basketball team had been seemingly headed towards the parking lot when she last saw them a few hours ago. 

"I'm Riftan, by the way." He wiped his palms on his shorts and looked as if he were about to proffer his palm, then put it hastily behind his back.

"M-maxi."

"Maxi," he repeated, softly, as if her name were a flower he held in his mouth, and a smile bloomed across his face. Maxi flushed. She had noticed him countlessly across the courtyard as he passed through the engineering department to get through to the gym, the stadium, always with his entourage in tow, but she had never seen him smile, not once, and was surprised to see that he had dimples. The unexpected expression had changed his face entirely. Before, Riftan had seemed, while handsome, downright terrifying, furious, but now, he looked boyish, innocent, and the realization sent flutters down Maxi's spine. "That's pretty."

Maxi wasn't sure if she could turn redder than her auburn hair, but she must have. The heat emanating from her could have generated enough steam to fill a sauna. She had never once thought her name as pretty and, as evidenced by Anette's nickname, she didn't think others ever did either.

"Where are you headed?" Riftan continued smoothly. What a womanizer, thought Maxi.

"D-downtown."

"Would you like a ride? I was headed to the parking lot anyway--"

"No, thank y-you," Maxi said, eyes widening into quarters. The idea of getting into a car with a boy she barely knew churned her stomach. She darted her eyes around him, looking for ways to flee, which was nearly impossible given that his muscled body took up almost the whole red-brick shortcut. "I-I'm okay. I was g-going to take the b-bus."

Riftan turned pink, as if realizing his own faux paux. He shuffled backwards immediately, giving her nearly three feet of space between them. "Sorry, I didn't realize how that must have sounded. I wasn't--I. Christ." He cursed to himself and raked a hand through his hair. The image sent Maxi reeling internally. "Of course not. I'll see you around then."

He brushed by her, quickly, shoulders hunched, and at his trailing form, Maxi felt a deep pang staring after his lengthening shadow. Of sadness, of loneliness, she wasn't sure. But she knew if she didn't call out to him now, they probably wouldn't ever speak again, and that feeling was more than she could hold.

"Um--" Maxi started, but Riftan clearly couldn't hear her. "R-riftan!"

The boy turned.

"If you d-don't....mind," Maxi looked at the naked trees behind Riftan, the remaining leaves twisting idly on their stems, fixedly avoiding his gaze. She knew that if she stared at him straight in the face, she probably couldn't eke out her question to him. "C-could you...w-walk me to the bus s-stop?" Hands in her curls, she added, "I-it's dark, like you said."

At her request, his face lit up, and bound towards her, almost leaping, looking so much like the large black Labrador of her childhood that she almost laughed.

"If you'd do me the honor," he grinned, coming to a stop in front of her. "I'd love to."

Chapter Text

The narrow shortcut running along the riverbank barely had room for the two of them. And so, inevitably, their shoulders touched as they made the long, winding way to the end of campus, to the downtown bus stop. With each graze of their sleeves, Maxi felt herself grow redder and redder, her chest thrumming like a flitting hummingbird. Riftan was quiet. Seemingly unperturbed by her presence, he walked sure and steady, conscious to match her pace. In the cold, his breath came out in small, spiraling white puffs, visible in the darkening, chill air, and she smelled coffee and spearmint gum on his breath. The scent felt oddly intimate, and Maxi wondered what her breath must have smelled like to him. With that thought, heat traveled up her neck. She was sure he could hear and feel her every inhale and exhale, her heartbeat louder than the crickets wailing incessantly by the reeds. 

A jagged leaf from a nearby tree landed in her hair and she paused at its gentle graze, feeling for it at the crown of her hair. 

"Wait a moment," he said, noticing the reason for her delay and, in the darkness, the street lamps no longer illuminating their way in this small, liminal in-between spot on the riverbank, Maxi felt Riftan's fingers search her curls. His hands felt impossibly warm and gentle. "Oh," he chuckled. "There's a caterpillar--"

"C-c-cater--" Shrieking, she nearly backed into the railing that guarded the campus river, and Riftan grabbed her arm to stop her from falling backwards into the icy cold lake. At his grip, and with how he yanked her into his chest briefly, Maxi wanted to, like the robot from Livadon, self-destruct and die. His heartbeat felt thunderous in her ears, filling her like the screams in an auditorium, and for a moment, he was all she could perceive; his body, hard and lean, made her acutely aware of her own, the scent of his sweat muskier and more pleasant than she thought, and embarrassment, in more ways than one, colored her like a ripened peach.

Catching her breath, Maxi backed away from Riftan's body. His hands released her immediately, shrinking obediently back to his sides. "I-I'm sorry. Th-that was s-silly of me--"

"It's my fault." Riftan scratched his head, abashed. "I forget how girls get around bugs."

She supposed it was a stereotype of her gender to hate bugs, something she didn't necessarily appreciate, but could, on some level, understand. Or, wait, did he happen to be around other girls often enough to know about their distaste for bugs? Maxi narrowed her eyes.

At her expression, Riftan backtracked. "I'm not saying it's bad to be scared of bugs. And I'm not saying that all girls get scared of --" He shot his eyes to the purple and black sky, as if begging the heavens to assist him in curing his foot-in-mouth disease. "One girl I know even kept a tarantula as a pet for a while--"

"A t-tarantula?" 

"Yeah," said Riftan, relieved, mistaking Maxi's question for genuine curiosity and not just abject horror. He hastened to elaborate. "Agnes, on the women's basketball team? I mean, she doesn't play anymore, but you might know her, since she's also a graduate student in computer engineering--"

At Agnes' name, Maxi's expression hardened. Of course she knew Agnes. Agnes had been two years ahead of her in high school, at Drachium Private Academy, and had been incredibly, ridiculously popular. Tales and whispers of her beauty and genius lingered in the halls years after she graduated, praise spoken from both students and teachers alike. Agnes was strikingly gorgeous: tall, platinum blond, with piercing, glacial blue eyes and a charismatic, sweet smile. If that wasn't enough, there wasn't a field Agnes didn't excel in: effortless straight A's, a basketball and ice skating super star, and not to mention, she was Wedon's literal princess, daughter of King Reuben. As a senior when Maxi was a sophomore, Agnes had been homecoming queen, prom queen, all the queens, while Maxi's younger half-sister, the ever-lovely and perfect freshman Rosetta, had joined Agnes that year on court as princess.

Both of them, blond and sweet like caramelized taffy, waved from the podiums like two shining daffodils with glinting silver tiaras and white sashes, and Maxi had gazed on with poorly disguised jealousy from the bleachers. It's not like she wanted the attention, she told herself, even though she knew that was partially a lie. Far from it. But she knew when she went home that day, her father would slap her repeatedly for not having been good enough to even lick Rosetta's strappy Gucci heels. And that's exactly what happened. 

Maxi rubbed her cheek, almost feeling the assault as if it happened yesterday, then straightened. "I-I'm going to b-be late for the b-bus."

"Right. The bus." At Maxi's short answer, Riftan's face drew into a thin line. "Let's go."

They walked, again, in silence, but the atmosphere between them had seemingly chilled and solidified, much like the ice chunks in the river. Maxi stared down at her boots, the way they shuffled, like double cockroaches, across the pavement, and a familiar feeling of disgust rose within her. She hated every fiber of herself, from her hair to her freckles to her legs to her toes. Here she was, walking with the first boy who had ever glanced her way, and she was, of course, messing it up royally. Why couldn't she speak normally, without her stupid stutter? Her father's resentment and rage flooded in her ears with every step she took. Why couldn't she be pretty, or funny, or witty, or smart, or whatever other quality that other people, like Agnes or Rosetta, inherently seemed to possess that drew people to them, as if entitled, as if born under a lucky star? Why couldn't it be her? Why couldn't she be Rosetta? Surely Riftan would find her more appealing, would have maybe asked her out already. But who was she to assume he had interest in her? He probably thought her pitiful, boring, ugly, homely, pretentious--Maxi couldn't bear to continue on the train of thought. Self-loathing oozed, like tar, through Maxi's veins, and her footsteps slowed. She wanted to turn tail and flee, find a quiet spot on campus and sob her eyes out, but the two of them had, without her realizing, already arrived at the empty bus stop.  

Here, Riftan paused, watching her settle dejectedly on the cold, steel bench. He looked out onto the road, as if checking for the bus, and Maxi's breath caught, briefly, at the way the moonlight shone off his sharp jawline and unblemished bronze cheeks, gleaming like a limelight in the darkness. Colors danced across his jet black hair, giving it a navy blue and purple galactic hue. "Thanks for letting me walk you."

"N-no, I sh-should be thanking you." Maxi shook her head. "I a-asked, after all."

Again, it was quiet. Maxi refused to look up, afraid that Riftan would somehow detect her inner turmoil. Every moment of silence only served to wedge a stake of depressed self-pity deeper and deeper into her chest. She just wanted Riftan to leave so she could wallow in her own self-hatred. He was radiant, a star, a sun, that belonged in another stratosphere, and she was but a fleck of insignificant, undeserving-- 

"Could I get your number?" Riftan blurted. 

Maxi whipped her head up, as if yanked by a puppet string, and stared at him. 

"I know it's--" Maxi watched Riftan stutter with an almost scientific curiosity, like a researcher examining the behavioral patterns of a new species of animal. "I just--"

He crouched suddenly, sinking to his knees before her, as if a man drowning, face buried between the crook of his arms. He was wearing black basketball shorts, with loose black sports leggings underneath for warmth, but his exposed skin, his collarbones and neck, had taken on a rosy tinge. He was blushing, furiously. The realization made Maxi blush as well. 

"I thought we could get dinner or movie or even coffee," he continued, speaking to the ground. "But if you don't want to, of course, no pressure, I understand--"

"D-d-dinner s-sounds...wonderful," said Maxi, finally. She put her own face between her hands, peeking at him between the slits of her open fingers. He peered up at her, and Maxi marveled in this sudden height difference where she, of all people, was staring down at this beautiful, beautiful boy sitting in front of her, so embarrassed he was to ask her out that he had almost curled into a roly-poly. 

"Really?" he asked, quietly, as if he couldn't believe his ears.

Maxi nodded, unable to speak. He reached for the hands in front of her face. Clasping them in his own, he said, "Then it's a date."

###

Maxi floated into Rheydn's Brewery as if on a drug-infused cloud. She found Anette and Sidina, along with Royald, Miriam, and the rest of the Robotics Club sitting in a large corner booth, plates of bar food already half-eaten in front of them, chattering away. Sidina was the first to spot her, and waved her over, scooting to make room. 

"Whoa, you look...tweaked," said Sidina, and Maxi came to her senses, scowling at the girl. 

"I d-do not look tweaked."

"What happened? Did Professor Serbel say no?"

"W-what?" Maxi blinked. Oh, right, the letter of recommendation. "No, he agreed. I'll also be h-helping out o-on a paper with h-him and R-ruth."

"Ruth?" Miriam chimed in. "The grad student? He's such an asshole. Typical engineering bro, by the looks of it. Sounds like a chore. Good luck, babe."

"You're just jealous." Anette shot a look at her, though Miriam only snorted in response. "'Grats, Maxi-pad. You'll be a shoo-in at this rate."

Miriam took a chug of her pale ale. "Guess I'll be seeing you in my fellowship cohort, Max. Looking forward to it." 

"You don't even know if you'll get in--" said Royald defiantly. 

"Oh, please," Miriam said. "If I don't get in, I'll buy this brewery."

Miriam was one of the most talented computer programmers in the school, having already interned at a few startups and laboratories before she entered university. By her junior year of college, she had added to her laundry list of accomplishments by joining a few computer science professors on more than just a handful of papers. While Maxi was an average coder at best, and her strengths lied in designing mechanical parts, she had always admired Miriam's abilities, tenacity, and, frankly, well-deserved confidence. 

"Well, if Serbel said yes, why do you look like that?" Sidina asked, still curious. Sidina knows me way too well, thought Maxi.

"L-later," said Maxi, and thankfully, Sidina let the matter rest. The group started discussing the Livadonian robot once more, a hot topic as of late. Most of the debate revolved around the how: was the robot remote-controlled? But they found no hint of a camera or wireless component within the salvaged parts. So it must have been hard-coded to systematically go down the hall, then the dumpster, as if explicitly instructed to do so. Was there a reason the instigator chose that particular dorm floor? Most people agreed it was due to the single-room nature of the occupants, making it easier for the robot to proceed with its execution. 

"It's clear that someone's just testing out their military robot," Anette said, her face red from annoyance and booze. "I hate talking about this. Can't we talk about the movie we're going to watch next week for the club or something--"

"You might hate talking about it," said a boy in the corner, "but it's increasingly current and worthy of discussion. Since you're club president, I think you should take a more vested interest in this instead of having us watch dumb sci-fi movies on a crappy CRT. We should hold a discussion like this for our next club event. Like, come on, everyone's talking about this. I mean, what if they get rid of our department's funding?"

"No one's getting rid of funding." Miriam waved her arms in the air, as if trying to silence the argument once and for all. "That's ridiculous. People use robotics primarily for good, you know. Serbel's cardio-robotic arm is getting patented and approval as we speak--"

"Serbel's robotic arm will save, maybe, if he's lucky, one person for every three hours of intense cardiothoracic surgery, while that psycho's DIY murder-bot killed 12 freshmen in 2 minutes," said Royald. "Tell me which impact you think is weightier and what the university might fear more--"

The table devolved into a heated argument once again, and Maxi took a long sip of her beer. She didn't understand -- everyone was basically on the same page, agreed on roughly the same points, but they still felt the need to butt heads over the minutiae of every detail. Maxi suspected most of it was caused by unnecessary sexual tension between some of the members, but, as always, kept it to herself. 

"Yo, Sludge, what are your thoughts?" Royald said, poking her. As the club's secretary, she knew she'd eventually get roped into the discussion. Maxi glared at him. Sludge was another one of her nicknames, and she wasn't sure how it came to be, but it seemed to stick to her like, well, sludge. 

"I have to agree with M-miriam," said Maxi. Her research interests had always been to apply biomedical engineering to robotics, much like Serbel, in hopes of building a future of non-invasive, cutting edge surgeries. The thought of creating a murder robot was so far removed from her mind, it naively hadn't even occurred to her until it happened last week. "I doubt the u-university will pull funding due to one isolated in-incident in Livadon. Though I also doubt the police will c-catch the culprit."

"Why's that?" said Sidina.

"A-anybody with enough 3d-printing and m-mechanical knowledge could make the robot," said Maxi. "Everyone here c-could theoretically do so, with the right lab and enough time. So any en-engineering student or faculty in L-Livadon with access to a 3d-printer is probably suspect. And that's almost hundreds, if not, thousands of p-people. What's most concerning is not necessarily the t-tragic incident itself, but, like, Anette said, the test this p-person is c-conducting. What, and who next? Wh-what are the goals of this person? How will it escalate?"

At that, the table briefly quieted, then they launched into another discussion of the possible motives. At this point, everyone had been drinking for about two hours, and theories thrown out included taking over the Seven Kingdoms with titan-like gundams, making a super strong robotic golem army to fly to the moon, and Maxi decided to leave early and hail a cab, wanting to not wake up the next morning with a blazing hangover before her Topology class. The rest of the club seemed hell-bent on ditching their Friday morning lectures, but Maxi knew she would most likely fail if she missed even a single day of class. 

Sidina joined her, coming up to rest her chin on Maxi's shoulder as they waited by the curb. "So, what's the sitch," Sidina grinned. Maxi groaned. Sidina was never one to leave drinks early, but had, of course, left tonight with the promise of Maxi's hot gossip.

At Maxi's silence, Sidina twirled and tugged on Maxi's cardigan, loosening the knitted fabric off Maxi's shoulder. "You said later," said Sidina. "It's later now, come oooooon."  

"F-fine, fine. Stop tugging! R-r-riftan C-calypse a-asked me--" Maxi started, and before she could finish, Sidina squealed like a high-pitched dog whistle. Onlookers down the street stared at them and Maxi burrowed her face into her hands. 

"I kneeeeeeeew iiiiiiiiit," screamed Sidina, punching her fist in the air, then shook Maxi's shoulders like a ragdoll. "Tell me everything. Tell. Me. Everything."

On the cab back, Maxi regaled Sidina with the brief details of her and Riftan's walk, growing redder and redder with each word and Sidina's barely stifled giggles. As she finished, ending with Riftan seeing her off as the bus came, Maxi asked, at the end, in a rush, "What do you mean, you kn-knew it?"

"Oh, come on, Maxi," said Sidina, waggling her brows. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed how he stares at you every time he passes us by? Like a dog seeing a meaty piece of rib-eye--"

"Oh my g-god, shut up!" Maxi flushed. "That is so not true--"

They continued their banter all the way to their apartment. Sidina stayed in the kitchen to make herself a late-night snack and Maxi took a shower. After, she flung herself onto her bed, and turned upwards towards the low, slanted ceiling of her room where she had painted the galaxy with phosphorescent paint. It glowed with the lights off, the little stars she dotted across the popcorn ceiling like dandelions in a grassy knoll. With a free hand, droplets from her shower raining her forehead with trickles, she reached towards the dark sky, a place she had always longed for in her lonely childhood, her fingers grazing along Saturn's rings and Europa's many faces, bitten nails tracing the improbable shapes of distant stars and she imagined herself flying through the Milky Way, the various blues and purples and pinks coursing by her in a gushing, adrenaline-fueled flood and, as she marveled in its many-faceted, ethereal, prismatic beauty, she realized, as she drifted off to sleep, that that must be what it would feel like to run her hands through Riftan's hair. 

###

Chapter Text

In the morning, after her Topology lecture, Maxi headed to Ruth's office in the fourth floor of Keating Hall. Given how Ruth behaved like a mythological vampire—pale, frail, and seemingly loathed both daylight and people in equal measure--she figured her email might not get a timely reply. She knocked on his office door, which he shared with two other graduate students: Landon and Nevin. No answer. She turned the knob and the door creaked open.

"Hello?" Maxi peered in. The office was spacious, with enough room for a ripped suede couch in the corner and a bubbling coffee maker atop a humming mini-fridge. Three desks formed a concentric circle in the center of the room. There was even a window, one that looked out over the main courtyard, where students were milling about and enjoying lunch. Compared to the cramped, fluorescent-lit prison cell closets that other departments called offices, this felt like more than just a small luxury, and was a testament to the engineering department's funding. 

The office was surprisingly neat, with minimal adornments: a succulent on Nevin's desk, a Transformer-shaped fidget toy on Landon's. Ruth’s corner, however, was a different story—his desk overflowed with books, papers, and coffee mugs, all spilling onto the floor in precarious stacks. Maxi tiptoed over, curious and slightly horrified by the mess. With no one in sight, however, she couldn’t resist a little snooping.

Maxi bent down to examine the titles on some of the textbooks, reading the spines and noting a few of them down to peruse for her own research. Suddenly, there was a rustle behind her. 

Maxi spun around, and froze. A pair of large, ice-blue eyes stared back from under the desk. She jumped back, ready to scream — but Ruth crawled out quickly, waving his arms. Once Maxi calmed down and sipped some coffee from one of the cleaner-looking mugs (Nevin's, probably), her heart thundering still in her ears, she turned up to glower at the white-haired graduate student. 

"Wh-why would you sc-scare me like that?" 

"That should be my question," Ruth said, disgruntled. He had dark bags under his eyes and and his clothes--a plain white shirt and jeans--were wrinkled. "I had just fallen asleep."

Maxi looked underneath his desk. There was a yellowed pillow, a pair of earplugs, and a slightly frayed toothbrush. He wasn't lying and, judging by the cocoon-shape formed from the blanket, he had been quite comfortable too. "D-do you not have a h-home to return to?" she asked, concern seeping into her voice.

Ruth yawned, rumpling his already ruffled-hair. “Yeah. But it's easier to stay here—books, dining hall nearby, robotics lab in the basement. Sometimes I crash there too. Good AC, no windows, big desks.” He rustled through his dirty mugs, found one that looked clean enough, and poured himself a cup of coffee. 
 
Maxi resisted rolling her eyes. She noticed he neglected mentioning showering, but at least he didn't smell. "I see."

"Anyway, what can I do you for?"  

"Professor Serbel said something a-about a paper I c-could help on."

"Oh, right. Yes, yes, he did say something like that." Ruth lit up, obviously relieved and delighted, and Maxi blinked, unsure of whether that was a good sign or not. "I would greatly appreciate your help--" 

At that, he cracked open his laptop, clicking rapidly, until he set it in her lap. Maxi's eyes widened. A ten second video played in front of her. An anatomical, six-foot barebones robot was dribbling a basketball with quick, graceful motions. It squeaked across a court in a pair of white New Balance sneakers and, with a slight pause, landed a perfect three-pointer. The net swished. 

"Th-this is amazing!" Maxi exclaimed. "There's so much f-finesse and precision. Is this r-robot yours?"

"Yes and no," said Ruth, pleased by the immediate praise, his face glowing with pride. "I built upon the blueprints of my uncle's cardio-arm and played around with it, though I made significant modifications. Part of my research interest is in neuro-muscular interfaces and adaptive prosthetics, but also biomechanical augmentation and cognitive-physical feedback systems--"

Ruth continued to ramble, waxing poetic about his paper, research interests, and his robot, and Maxi struggled to keep up with the various terms and jargon. When in doubt, she knew she should start taking notes, so she stopped him and had him repeat his spiel once more, which he was more than happy to do.

"Anyway," Ruth finished smugly. "The whole point of this is to test neuromotor coherence and reflexive decision pathways in competitive athletic environments."

"It sounds like y-you just really want to make your r-robot play basketball," said Maxi absently as she reviewed her shorthand on Ruth's explanations, and Ruth stared at her, scandalized.

“...It’s called applied systems research,” he said stiffly. 

"S-sure," she said, smiling slyly. "But it sounds like you're mostly finished. What can I e-even help with?"

"DUNK is not finished!" Ruth stood up, eyes shining with fire and ambition. "I'd like to test it out with a real team. The Wedon Dragons would be perfect. We need some extensive testing, some edge cases--"

"D-DUNK?" 

"Dynamic Unilateral Neuromech Kinetobot!" Maxi tried not to laugh. Leave it to Ruth to come up with a comically horrible, yet functional acronym.  

"A-are you s-serious?"

"As serious as my half a million dollar DARPA grant!" Ruth was really on a roll now. He was pacing around the room, miming dribbling motions. "I'm planning on testing him at their practice tonight. Seven PM, at the courts. I need someone to videograph, take notes, make diagrams, help me set DUNK up, everything. These will all go in the appendix later. Are you in or are you out?"

Maxi choked on her coffee. She hadn't even gotten a text from Riftan yet, and to show up unannounced to his practice, even for research, even with Ruth, felt incredibly humiliating, like she was stalking him. "Um."

Ruth jumped up, flailing, pacing with goblin-like energy, as if he were a late-night infomercial show host on a crapload of cocaine, hyping up some newly minted collector coins. "Come on! We're making history here! Think of everything DUNK can do: if it can play basketball with a team, read human emotions and translate them into physical movements, then this would be a huge breakthrough. We could usher in a new age of robotics. We'd--"

"O-okay, I get it." She couldn't help but laugh. Ruth's energy was infectious. And so she bobbed her head, agreeing. "I'd love to help. B-but only if you do all the t-talking."

"Deal." Ruth grinned. "Meet me at the courts a little before seven. I know the captain, so it shouldn't be a problem to get them to agree."

Ruth knew Riftan? But before she could ask Ruth how, he handed Maxi her bag, escorted her to the door, and unceremoniously pushed her out of his office and into the empty hallway. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to catch up on some sleep before then."

The office door locked with a hearty click, and Maxi stared at the doorknob, aghast at the speed in which she'd being thrown out. She was, of course, happy that she was helping out with such cutting edge research, but Ruth was, well, unexpected. Not like the engineering bro that Miriam had assumed, but absolutely incorrigible and wild and unhinged and, honestly, somewhat of a maniac. She exited Keating Hall and made her way to the dining hall just as the clocktower struck noon. 

At an empty table, Maxi sat down with her salad and book, but she couldn't focus on either eating or reading. The earlier clip of DUNK constantly replayed in her mind. The way it dribbled. The way it moved, seamlessly, across the court. The way its arms flexed and tossed the ball, knowing exactly where and how to strike. And, for just a moment, she remembered the Livadonian robot that executed those freshmen, and wondered how different the two really were.

###

Maxi headed back home to change. If she had to meet Riftan tonight at his practice, it would be with a fresh shower, dewily applied makeup, and a whole new look. Cute, but not too cute (she didn't want him to think she was specifically dressing up just to see him at practice). Casual, but not too casual (she didn't want to look like a filthy tech-bro-vagrant). 

Sidina came home while Maxi was deliberating the clothes hanging from her rack. Option 1: dark academia plaid knee-length skirt with collared blouse? Option 2: chiffon pants and a long-sleeved, high-necked ruffle top? Option 3: black-and-white knit dress with tights? 

Wait, she couldn't wear the knit dress. She'd look like a try-hard nun. Or a nunnish try-hard. Or what if Ruth thought she was dressing up for him? The thought mortified her. Did Ruth even notice clothes? He barely cared about his own hygiene. Was she on the brink of losing it?

"Are you....picking an outfit? For someone who may or may not rhyme with Smythan?" Sidina peered from Maxi's doorway, a smug, secretive smile warming her face, looking very much the part of a government spy who was ready to pick apart a pile of classified state secrets. "You should wear the one your sister accidentally left behind. The one with the star-shaped boob window."

"I am n-not wearing a shirt with a b-boob window!" Maxi had, after returning home last summer, accidentally packed one of Rosetta's clubbing shirts, a tight-fitting black crop top with, indeed, a boob window. She had, of course, tried it on when no one was home. On Rosetta, the shirt was sexy, sleek, even elegant and classy. But on Maxi, no matter how much she twisted or contorted herself in front of the mirror, trying to imitate her sister’s effortless poise, she looked less like a sultry siren and more like a birthday party clown. All she was missing was the red nose and makeshift balloon animal to complete the whole image.

Sidina came in, and glanced at Maxi's prepared outfit options. “These all look like you’re going to debate Kant at a youth theology retreat.”

"They d-d-do NOT."

Sidina snorted with laughter, then rifled through Maxi's closet. She laid out a pair of dark suede shorts, a pair of thick black tights, then went to her own room. She returned with a fluffy, blue-grey knit sweater, one that matched Maxi's eye color almost exactly. "There. Then those ankle boots you lug around. You'll be warm and super kawaii. Oh, and a push-up bra--"

"Sidina!" Maxi stared at the shorts. Growing up, she never wore anything that exposed too much skin, not necessarily out of modesty, but to conceal the constant rotation of fresh bruises, welts, and lashes on her legs, arms, and back. It had become second nature for her to only dress in collared shirts, turtlenecks, long-sleeves, and tights, layers to hide the evidence of her father's displeasure and temper. But last year, during a forced shopping spree with Rosetta and their nanny, she had purchased the shorts on a fanciful whim. Some of the wounds had faded by then, the bruises barely perceptible, the scars beginning to whiten and settle. The shorts had looked cute in the dressing room, made her stubby legs look longer than they were, but when she tried them on again at home, they made her feel exposed and, frankly, a little cold.

"Thank me later," Sidina sang. Then she hopped into the shower. As the water ran and Maxi heard Sidina belt out a turn of phrase, something from Fleetwood Mac, Maxi sighed. Maybe, with the tights, the shorts wouldn't feel so awkward.

Maxi tried on the clothes, rolling the tights on slowly, forebodingly, unsure of what she was going to see in the mirror. But the effect was better than expected--the sweater brought out the color of her eyes, the heather-grey knit gave her a subdued, everyday look, and the shorts and tights gave the outfit just enough edge so she didn't look like a homeschooled pre-teen. This was maybe the exact effect she was going for: cute, casual, and effortless. She pinned her hair back with two golden barrettes and worked on adding concealer to her freckles. 

"Thanks, Sidina," whispered Maxi, to her reflection. She couldn't wait for Riftan to see her later, and most likely not notice a single detail she'd agonized over. 

###

Chapter Text

The Wedon Dragons didn't rise to become the best university team in the Seven Kingdoms just due to sheer coincidence. Originally considered the bottom-feeders and ultimate doormat of the conference, they hadn't made a dent in the NCAA rankings until Coach Evan Triton was hired seven years ago. With little to work with, he spent most of his free time scouting different high schools and basketball courts, hunting for new blood. 

He found a fourteen-year-old Riftan, nearly six feet at the time, playing a pickup game in a no-name park tucked into the shadier back roads of Drachium. Graffitied, poorly lit, the court was barely anything but a large swathe of cracked, uneven pavement with two rusty, broken hoops. In the distance, the faint sound of gunshots echoed from the next block over. But even there, even then, Riftan's talent was evident. The way he handled the ball, carved out shooting angles, made space for the other players -- he was versatile, deadly, precise. Read the flow of the court as easily as breathing, shored up his teammates' defensive lapses, commanded the tempo of the game as if he owned the very land he played on. 

And if any of the opposition showed any weakness--an open play, an undefended player--Riftan struck like a wolf catching the scent of blood on the wind. The game was elevated by his presence. His teammates played harder, stronger, faster, and the opposition only responded in kind. Sparks flew, words clashed, and the energy in every game rivaled that of the last few seconds of a championship final. And if Riftan made the decision to shoot the ball, it was nothing but net. Some of the games Triton saw in that desolate, trash-ridden park were easily among the best he’d ever witnessed. 

"I'm not interested," said Riftan immediately, when Triton approached him after the end of that first night he'd seen him play ball. Riftan had been heading to his bike, a beaten second or third-hand road bike with melted handlebars and scratches along the frame. "Take your pedo shit elsewhere." 

Triton stopped in his tracks, startled. The kid thought he was being propositioned. How many times had this happened for him to react that way? Riftan looked like he wanted to kill him. His glare was bloodshot and vicious.

"I'm serious, you old fuck. I don't give a rat's ass how much you want to pay me." Riftan's hands were already in his duffel. Triton stepped back, suddenly realizing what the boy must have stashed inside his bag. "If you don't back up--"

"Whoa, whoa," Triton raised his palms quickly. "I'm a basketball coach. Wedon University. I'm scouting new players."

Riftan let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Yeah, sure. At least you're creative, I'll give you that." 

"My badge is in my wallet--in my front pocket." Triton said, then winced as he heard how it came out. "I don't mean--" 

A pistol was in Riftan's hands now, raised confidently without hesitation. "All you sick fucks sound the same," said Riftan, disgusted. The boy was comfortable and practiced with his grip and seemed to have no qualms about squeezing the trigger. "Get lost, before I paint you on the pavement."

For a moment, Triton didn't move. Riftan clicked the safety off the gun. 

"I get it, I get it--I'm going." Backing away, still facing the boy, Triton slipped into the relative safety of his black BMW, heart roaring in his ears. As he watched Riftan furiously pedal away, his patchy black jacket flapping like a battle flag in the wind, Triton realized he'd been sitting on crushed glass. He cast an uneasy glance around his car. All four windows were smashed. The steering wheel was gone. So was the stereo. And the two hundred lehrams of emergency cash in the glove compartment.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

It took months of careful coaxing--Triton felt like he was attempting to tame a savage, feral grizzly--and, eventually, a car full of bodyguards from his own earldom before Riftan was finally convinced that Triton was, in fact, legitimately trying to recruit him for the university team. Triton knew the recruitment would be complicated, though he thought the hardest part was over once Riftan agreed. But he hadn’t been prepared for the wall of bureaucratic red tape it would take just to make the boy exist in the eyes of the institution.

Riftan had been ditching school the last several years. He was sharp, clever, street-smart, but he had barely any schooling record to speak of. Whatever grades and attendance he'd had at the poorly-funded public schools he'd bounced through were abysmal because he refused to attend, let alone do the classwork, opting to work instead for pay. And he was alone. His one family, his mother, had taken her own life back in the Croyso Duchy. After everything he'd gone through, he had hitchhiked his way to Drachium, lying about his age while picking up odd jobs in construction to survive. Basketball was never a dream or a career option--just a way to stay off the streets, to decompress after each grueling twelve-hour shift.

To even adopt the boy as his charge and "enroll" him into even the public Drachium high school (the private academy was out of the question--Riftan loathed nobility and they somehow hated him more) Triton had to ask an extremely personal favor to King Reuben. Records and grades were fudged. Legal documents fabricated. Paper trails scrubbed and rewritten. It wasn't clean, but it was necessary. And in the end, Riftan no longer belonged to himself. He was property of the crown. The star player of the nation. And King Reuben’s pawn, to be used however he saw fit.

It was a better life than he would have had on the streets, but some itch of guilt lingered whenever Triton saw Riftan. The boy had always been private. But in recent years, he knew Riftan respected him, treated him like a father, even let down his guard around him. But the boy was up to something under King Reuben’s orders, and wouldn’t tell Triton anything, no matter how much he probed. 

It unnerved him. And even if he didn't have the answers yet, he knew the questions were gathering, like the distant roll of thunder on the horizon. Everything would come to a head; if not now, then with the quiet inevitability of lightning striking the summit when least expected.

###

It was pre-season, just a week before their first official game, and Coach Triton was absent. Not unusual, given his age, recent health concerns, and the sudden demands pulling him away at his earldom, but that meant Riftan had to pick up the slack. He showed up about half an hour early to practice and had just started reviewing Triton's notes on drills and scrimmages when a knock came at the office door.

"Not now, Nirtha," muttered Riftan, eyes on the screen. Hebaron, his second, had been pestering him lately about the rookies, Ulyseon and Garrow, not taking practice seriously enough. They're constantly in my ear, Hebaron complained. Always cracking jokes, asking dumb questions, trying to show off for the girls at the away games. The rookies, in Riftan's opinion, were annoying, but showed potential. Hebaron just liked to find any excuse to bitch and prolong the start of practice. 

The computer took a few more seconds to boot up the next file. Riftan sighed. Despite the team's near-limitless funding from the crown, Triton insisted on keeping a decrepit, fifteen-year-old janky PC as the team's office computer. Something about security, not letting other teams "hack" into their network, which made no sense. Riftan had browbeaten Triton into upgrading the old man's personal phone from an ancient flip phone with a long, pull-out antenna to at least something with a touch screen just last year, but the office computer was a lost cause.

The knock came again. Louder, now. Frustrated, Riftan flung open the door, ready to chew Hebaron out, when he looked down and saw a pair of wide, grey doe eyes. 

Maxi.  

He paused, unsure if this was a dream--was she a mirage, much like how a man dying of thirst in the desert hallucinated a paradise of water? But she coughed, embarrassed, and he knew it was real. He'd been wanting to text her, but read some advice online that it was better to wait at least a day, as to not seem overly eager. It was painful, excruciating even, staring at her contact in his phone the last twenty-four hours and not reaching out, deleting drafted messages over and over--variations of "Hey", "Hey," but with a period, or even "Hi", all equally awkward and terrible and not at all suave--but he didn't want to scare her away. She had the look and demeanor of a frightened rabbit in a thunderstorm. The first time they spoke, it had taken everything he had to even look her in the eye, to talk to her with any semblance of normalcy, terrified that she'd bolt. That she'd hate him. That she'd disappear like smoke before his eyes, never to appear again. 

But now, here she was. Her red hair was piled into a loose bun behind her head, pinned with two golden barrettes he'd never seen before, with pieces of her hair falling artfully around both cheeks. She'd put something on her face. Something white, to cover her freckles. Makeup. Makeup? He frowned. He reached up, wanting to touch her cheeks, smear it away, see the natural flush of her skin, watch it ripen down her neck, but pulled away, abashed. 

"H-hello," said Maxi, quietly, staring at the floor. "S-sorry to bother you. Is this a b-b-bad time?"   

"No, of course not, come in--" 

"Riftan, finally!" Ruth emerged from the hallway, breathless. He was pushing a creaky metal wagon towards them with a gigantic crate in the center. "We've been knocking on doors for the past hour. Maxi and I have something to discuss with you."

Riftan stared, first at Ruth, then at Maxi. 

Did she put on makeup for Ruth? He scowled. In Riftan's last year of high school, Triton had asked Ruth, a junior at Wedon University, to help him brush up on any topics before entering university. Not like he needed it. Ruth would look over his practice exams and homework, deem them more than acceptable, then lounge in the study, enjoying the various snacks and tea prepared by the maids while tinkering with his own projects and schoolwork and yabbering away. Which was just as well. Everyone was happy enough with the arrangement--as long as Riftan's grades were up and steady, with or without Ruth, Triton never nagged him and let him do as he pleased. 

"What do you want," Riftan said, anger creeping into his voice. The white-haired graduate student hesitated at Riftan's tone, but continued on, attempting to act unbothered. 

"Come, come! Let's have a seat first," said Ruth, awkwardly waving them in. He spoke in an over-the-top, gracious-host kind of way, as if he were acting the part of a desperate street peddler, and motioned for both of them to join him on the leather couch inside the office. Riftan’s temper flared at Ruth’s entitlement, but for Maxi’s sake, he obediently headed to the couch.

Tentatively, Maxi sat down as well. It was a large sectional, but she sat on the opposite end, as far away from him as possible. Riftan bristled. Ruth began unpacking the crate and dragging a hunk of metal with legs in, explaining something all the while, but Riftan couldn't bother to pay attention. He realized that Maxi was wearing a pair of teeny shorts with leggings. Which, in and of itself, wouldn't be a big deal on anyone else, but Maxi always dressed conservatively, with clothes that usually indicated a lack of shape: long skirts, flowing blouses, baggy pants. This was of a length and style that he'd never seen her wear before, not even when she was a child in the Croyso Duchy, where he'd watched her often from afar while running errands with his mother at the mansion, and at the sight, he wanted to break something. 

"Er," said Ruth, clearly fearful at Riftan's murderous expression and clenched jaw. "Is that...not okay?"

"What's not okay?" Riftan glowered at him. He hadn't heard a word of what Ruth had just said. 

"We were...hoping to test out our robot, DUNK, with the Dragons tonight--"

"Of course you can't," Riftan snapped. "Our first official game is next week. The team doesn't have time to entertain your silly robot."

Ruth looked taken aback. He hadn't expected Riftan to say no. “Riftan, I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve poured everything into this—weeks, months, years. This is my thesis. It’s not just some toy. It can help the team win.”

"No," said Riftan coolly. "We're already winning. This would just be a waste of time."  

"But imagine if we could dominate. Not just win, but change the game. DUNK isn’t all about shooting: it learns, adapts, predicts. Like having an extra player who never tires. And once it's perfected, the uses can be endless, not just for basketball. It could revolutionize the fields of medicine, robotics, disaster response--this isn’t just a machine, Riftan. It’s the future!”

"Goddammit, Ruth, I already said no--" Riftan's voice began to rise, but he felt Maxi tremble beside him. Shame hit him like a fist, and Riftan dipped his head. He never wanted to show her this side of himself, this anger, this monster that hibernated not far underneath his skin, always a hairbreadth away from clawing itself free. Now that he was finally, at least, someone—someone who could stand beside her, maybe not as an equal, but not as an embarrassment either—he wanted only to be good to her. To give her nothing but warmth and sweetness and tenderness. To wrap her in gold and joy and flowers and softness. She deserved nothing less. And yet, he'd scared her already. Of course he did. He was a loser. Always had been, always would be.  

In that moment, Riftan wanted nothing more than to punch the wall and thrash Ruth into pieces for pushing him into this corner. But he drew a slow, measured breath. 

"Have you even tested this thing? What if it injures the players?"

"DUNK was trained on thousands of NBA game hours, fed through a custom deep learning architecture I built myself. It processes play patterns in real time and adjusts dynamically. I've run it through dozens of sim environments and stress tests. Collision protocols are tight, the predictive modeling is sound, and--"

Riftan motioned for Ruth to stop rambling. He knew once Ruth started on this tangent, it had to be nipped early before it spiraled. 

"Fine," he said, rising to his feet, not even turning to face the two of them. "Try it out with the rookies and reserves on the training court. But if it hurts anyone--anyone-- this experiment ends. And don't even think about bringing it near the starters. I don’t care how well it shoots threes. I’ve seen what robots like that are capable of."

"DUNK is-isn't like the L-Livadonian m-murder bot--" Maxi began, and from Riftan's periphery, he saw her shaking, the words almost choking themselves out of her throat. "It’s b-based on c-cardiothoracic s-surgery a-arms that save l-lives—"

"Like I said," Riftan cut in, his voice icy. "Do as you please."

He slammed the door behind him--and felt something inside him shatter with the frame.

###

Chapter Text

Holding back her tears at Riftan's cold demeanor and departure, the slam of the door still echoing in her ears, Maxi eyed her boots in the high-pile carpet, fists clenched at her sides. Ruth breathed a huge sigh of relief. 

"Whew, that was a trial," he said. "But at least we got a yes, right?"

Ruth turned to look at her, then registered Maxi's tearful expression. He paused. Awkwardly, he ambled over to sit by her, voice tentative. "Ah, this is my fault. I should have warned you--uh, Riftan can be scary, but it's not personal. He's a good guy deep down. He just cares a lot about the team--"

"I kn-know," said Maxi. She knew whatever had transpired just now, however Riftan had acted, was somehow due to her own shortcomings and inadequacies. Why else would he not even look at her, speak to them so coldly? Why else would he leave without a reason? And she didn't know what compelled her to blurt this out, but then she said, "He asked me to d-dinner yesterday."

Ruth stared. "Excuse me?"

Maxi put her face in her hands. Ruth gaped at her as if she had grown a tail and perhaps a second and third head. "Riftan Calypse asked you to dinner? The guy just now? The one that just left?"

Did I stutter? Maxi wanted to ask, but, well, course she did. Maxi nodded.

"Well, that explains a LOT." Ruth stood up, suddenly rejuvenated. Maxi glowered at him. She did not like being the only one in this room of two not understanding Ruth's sudden moment of clarity.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Ruth waved a hand and proceeded to drag DUNK back into the wagon, prepping him for transport. "Don't worry about it."

"Ruth..." 

"He's jealous."

It was Maxi's turn to stare. Looking at her as if she was the densest person he'd ever met, Ruth sighed, then waved at her from head to toe.

"You wore makeup. You clearly dressed up. But you showed up here with me. And even if he doesn't think much of me, I'm still a man. He probably left so he wouldn't choke me to death. Thank God for that, by the way." Ruth touched his thin, pale neck, shivering. "I very much value breathing."

Maxi flushed all the way down to her ankles. This whole time, she thought Ruth was an oblivious egomaniacal scientist only focused on his work and research, but he had been observing her, tracking the situation, piecing all their dynamics together with detective-like calculation -- she felt like a preserved butterfly, her wings pinned to a display board under a microscope. 

Ruth shrugged. "Seriously, don't worry about it. It's good that he cares. Usually, he treats people like they're NPCs." Maxi furrowed her brows at the unfamiliar acronym. "Like rocks, I mean," Ruth corrected, quickly. "Anyway, we should get to the courts before they start practice." 

Not entirely comforted by his words, Maxi followed Ruth out into the hallway with an air of gloom. With no one else present to offer a second opinion, she would have to trust Ruth's assessment, which sounded ridiculous even to her own ears. The Riftan Calypse, jealous? Because of her? Impossible.

### 

The basketball team's training facility mirrored the recent boost in funding the department must have received, representative of their back-to-back championship wins. Four full-sized, freshly painted, newly waxed courts gleamed in the center of campus, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that resembled a planetarium. Outside, a field of wildflowers bowed, their petals quivering. Leaves twisted and drifted in the autumn breeze. The moon, round and effervescent, peeked at them from the corner glass. It was picturesque and painterly, all watercolor and lovely; for a moment, Maxi felt like she'd stepped into a Wes Anderson film.

The rookie's training court sat in the far left corner, and Ruth beelined to the gigantic, gingered senior overseeing the practice. Maxi had difficulty fathoming how humans could possibly grow that tall--the senior could easily touch the rim of the basketball hoop with just a stretch of his massive arms. He cut an almost unapproachable figure the way he towered over the two of them, a skyscraper of a man while Ruth and Maxi toddled over like kindergarteners in comparison. But his intimidating stature was just a front. Friendly and cheerful, his smile was as warm and bright as the summer sun--he introduced himself as Hebaron Nirtha and, as he shook her hand, Maxi was reminded of a sunflower swaying in the wind.

"You got the captain to agree to this?" Hebaron glanced at the robot that Maxi had pulled out. It lay, limp and lifeless on the floor, curled in the fetal position, looking more like a rejected modern art exhibition rather than a functional humanoid bot.  In disbelief, he scratched his beard. "I don't know--""

"You can ask him yourself." Ruth pointed to the double back doors that led to the locker rooms. Riftan had emerged through them with the rest of the starter players, striding in with a glare.

"What are you doing, Nirtha?" Hebaron stiffened at Riftan's chastisement. "Why aren't the rookies and reserves scrimmaging already?"

"Captain, these two said you agreed to let them test their, uh, SLAM robot with the rookies?"

"It's DUNK," Ruth corrected, and Maxi rolled her eyes. 

At that, the freshmen turned to look at the robot, their expressions uneasy and discomfited. One of them, a boy with silver hair and purple eyes, turned to look at his friend. "We have to practice with that?"

"This is bullshit -- you didn't bring this up at our team meeting last week," said one of the starters immediately. He had ashy blond hair, was about Riftan's height, and cast a disparaging look at both Maxi and Ruth, surveying them as if they were no better than slugs. 

Maxi shrank. She recognized him as Ursuline Ricaydo, one of the boys she'd gone to high school with at Drachium Private Academy. They were the same year, but never shared any classes together, and while Ursuline kept a low profile, his circle mostly involving the royals and other nobility, his older brother, Wolfgar, had been notorious for the relentless bullying of underclassmen: tossing them in dumpsters, shoving them in lockers, bloodying and bruising them in the blind spots of the security cameras. Ursuline was, thankfully, nothing like his brother, but he never did anything to stop him either. 

"Ursuline." Gabel Lachzion, the point guard, sighed, frustration reflected in his ember eyes. If Sidina were here, thought Maxi, she'd probably ask for his autograph.  "Do you have to start shit again? We've only got a week until our game with Osiriya--"

"What? He can't just decide this on his own--"

"Enough," Riftan said, quietly, and at his command, everyone fell silent. Maxi marveled at how, with just one word from him, the whole room was, somehow, under his spell. His gaze swept across the court. "Triton isn't here, so I'm the one in charge. The robot will practice with the rookies and reserves as a test--" he regarded Ruth, briefly, with withered eyes "--and favor to the engineering department. Am I clear?"

The room went still. Some of the players shuffled, nodding. Ursuline opened his mouth as if to argue once more, but at Riftan's face, he hesitated. Elliot Caron, the shooting guard, pulled him back, shaking his head. 

"Whatever." Ursuline turned to grab one of the basketballs in the wire crate. "It's not my neck on the line."

Hebaron clapped the blond around the shoulders, leading him to the starter's court. "Quit whining, Ricaydo. You sound like your mother."

Ursuline freed himself from Hebaron's grip and chucked the ball at him, which Hebaron caught--in Hebaron's dinnerplate-sized hands, the basketball resembled a clementine. Elliot said something in the corner, something like a quiet quip, and the team laughed. Riftan motioned for the team to split: the starters were to condition on one court while the rookies and reserves scrimmaged on the other. As the players began to move, the starters launched into a series of suicide drills: sprinting to one end of the court, touching the line, then turning back to repeat. 

Maxi observed the scene with a vacant hollowness. Riftan hadn't acknowledged her the whole time. Hadn't even looked at her for longer than a second, hadn't even mentioned their interaction from yesterday. The shy, vulnerable boy who had blushed at the bus stop just last evening, unable to meet her eyes, now felt like a distant memory. 

What did she expect? He didn't know her. She didn't know him. Watching as he ran across the court, shouting at his teammates to go faster, faster, not even breaking a sweat, she felt unseen, unwanted, like a beetle that had desiccated in the corner under fading sunlight, only to be swept away into the cracks of the pavement.

It was a feeling much akin to the day she had learned of her acceptance to Wedon with a full-ride scholarship in the highly competitive engineering department. Seeing the acceptance letter in the mail, she'd been thrilled, then immediately fearful. Maxi had expected her father to scream at her, say no. Cane her, whip her, even, as he was wont to do whenever she angered him. What would a woman of the nobility need a STEM degree like that for? Why was she, a useless, stuttering good-for-nothing, trying to rise above her station? Daughters were no better than brood mares, a marriage prospect to either maintain or expand the family's lands, wealth, or status. 

But at dinner that night, when Maxi broke the news, slid the letter towards him with shaking, knuckle-bitten hands, the Duke of Croyso only ignored her. Took a sniff at the paper, as if it smelled, as if it were burnt refuse, and brushed it aside. He then reminded Rosetta of her upcoming engagement ceremony to the crown prince, Elias Reuben. 

"Don't embarrass me." He took a bite of his scallop, distaste building at the corner of his thin lips. It was overcooked, just by a hair. With a curt flick of his index finger, he instructed the maid to take his plate away and fire the chef. In the same motion, he smoothed out the wrinkles and liver spots on his chin, ruminating. "You'll be meeting the king tomorrow. If you bring shame to the Croyso name, I will ruin you." 

Rosetta had her hands folded in her lap, her wrists thin like a waif. She was a year younger than Maxi, but appeared an ocean wiser, a river sharper, her face as ethereal and regal as if carved from glass. Even though the fallen Roem bloodline ran through both her and Maxi's veins, Rosetta was the one who carried the Roem-flaxen hair and sapphire eyes destined to inherit an empire. "Yes, father." 

"Good girl."

And the feeling of neglect, in Rosetta's shadow, was almost worse. Maxi would have rather the Duke cared enough to hurt her. To feel the bruises, once more, that blossomed across her limbs and back like lotuses. With that feeling, that want of pain, Maxi wondered, then, if she was, perhaps, fractured--beyond reach, beyond repair, beyond recognition. Beyond love.

###

Under Ruth's guidance, Maxi set up the DSLR camera and tripod from the door, then set it to start filming. With the head of a ballpoint pen, she pressed the tiny red "ON" button hidden in the nape of DUNK's skull. DUNK sprang to life, its eyes glowing green, and Ruth handed it a basketball. The robot held onto the ball and began scanning its surroundings.

"What do you want us to do with this thing?" asked the same silver-haired freshman from earlier. His name was Ulyseon Rovar, and he poked at the robot with the bright-eyed curiosity of a newborn puppy. 

"Treat it like another player, as you normally would in a pick-up game or something." Ruth pantomimed a few basketball motions. Dribbling, passing, shooting. His movements were awkward and gangly, like one of those flailing, inflatable tubes you'd see outside of car dealerships. 

Garrow Livakion, the brunette Ulyseon had been speaking to, eyed DUNK warily. "I won't, uh, hurt it?" 

"No. Don't baby it. Shove it, elbow it, body it like you would any other player. The chassis is impact-resistant, the joints have shock absorption, and it patches minor damage on the fly. Worst case, we print a new one in sixteen and a half hours," Ruth said dismissively. 

Ruth turned to the robot. "Okay. DUNK, play basketball. Adjust positions as needed. Avoid hurting people. Your teammates are these four" -- Ruth pointed at four of the nearest players, including Ulyseon and Garrow -- "and your opposition are these five. The rest might rotate in and out from the sidelines" -- and he indicated five more boys, while the rest went to bench. "Now, do your best," he said, tiptoeing to pat DUNK's head, as if praising a precocious child. "Be a good teammate, but show off a little."

The robot's green eyes blinked twice in acknowledgement and sprinted towards one end of the court. It spun, leapt in the air. And, true to its name, it dunked. It hung from the rim, then released its grip and landed, light as a cat. It then retrieved the ball and shot a three-pointer, then followed with a layup. The players were stunned.

"No way," said Ulyseon, his purple eyes glowing. "That is absolutely, undeniably bonkers."

"Shit," one of them said, laughing. "Bet the robot gets MVP before I do."

"At this rate, even the captain's going to have to fight that toaster for minutes--"

From a distance, DUNK analyzed the banter, processing. Then it passed the ball to Garrow, who grinned. The rookies and reserves ran to the court with renewed enthusiasm while those on the sidelines regarded the ensuing game in open-jawed awe. Maxi almost forgot to take notes on its behavior patterns, and only snapped to attention when DUNK made a seamless pass to Ulyseon, which elicited a gasp from the team's manager. 

On the other side of the facility, where the starters were practicing, Maxi saw Riftan call for break and the five boys went to grab water bottles and sports drinks from an industrial cooler in the corner. With sweat streaming down their temples, shirts sticking to their heaving chests, the boys all turned to watch the scrimmage. Maxi could tell that most of them were impressed despite their reservations, and perhaps itching to take DUNK for a spin as well. Riftan, however, smoothed back his black hair, sipping water, his face impassive and unreadable. 

"What do you think?" Ruth smirked, waggling his brows at DUNK, acting every bit the proud papa of an honor's student. One of the boys attempted to push the robot aside, but DUNK sidestepped out of the way and began guarding another player around the hoop. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."

"St-stop t-tooting your own horn," Maxi laughed, slapping Ruth's arm playfully. Suddenly, a sharp noise crackled--almost like a gunshot--and Maxi startled, looking up at the noise. Riftan had crushed the water bottle in his hand. Water gushed all over his arms, shorts, and shoes. The starters stared at him, surprised, as the team manager ran over with an armful of towels.

As Gabel handed a towel to Riftan, who began drying his arms with a methodical fury, Ruth appraised the scene with wide-eyed amusement. "Damn." 

"What h-happened? Why did he d-do that?"

Riftan hurled the used towels at the bleachers and yelled for the starters to get off their asses and resume drills. His teammates groaned. "It hasn't even been five minutes--" Elliot began, but with a shake of Riftan's head, everyone headed back onto court.

"Well," said Ruth scathingly. "If you still want to go on a date with him after seeing all this, go talk to him after practice. You're probably the only person alive who can un-Hulk the man."

Maxi said nothing, ducking her head into her notes. She knew what Ruth was implying. And she wasn't sure if that were true, or even how she felt. Riftan ran hot, he ran cold, and yet, despite it all, she gravitated towards him with an inevitable pull, like a planet caught in a decaying orbit--two celestial bodies that drew ever closer to one another even if it meant burning up, even if it meant disintegration. 

It couldn't be that he wanted her too, did it? A ladder was set up on the court, and the starters hopped around the gaps like rabbits. Riftan sped through first. As he waited for everyone to finish, examining their posture and footwork, he finally looked up, catching her grey eyes with his own. Desire lingered, in the pit of his black irises, like a slow, rising heat, and Maxi identified it only because it so very much mirrored her own. Her throat dried and, inadvertently, nervously, her hands went to tug on her bun. 

Her hair loosened from the hold of the barrettes, tumbling onto her collarbones and down her shoulders in tousled waves. Riftan's gaze darkened, his Adam's apple pulsed. He wanted her. That much was true, that much was there. And yes, she wanted him too.  

Oh. I've got it bad, she thought. I've got it really bad.

###

Chapter Text

Practice wrapped up at around 10:30pm and Ruth was immeasurably pleased. Acting as if he'd just won the million-dant lottery, he skipped towards the exit where the wagon and DSLR camera was and stopped the recording. DUNK followed obediently and, at his instruction, folded itself neatly before shutting down with a quiet hum.

Maxi was just following him when, Ulyseon bounced towards her on his way to the lockers. "That was probably one of the best games of my life. You two are absolute geniuses!"

"Oh, n-no, the robot is a-all Ruth's creation. He's the genius. I'm just a-assisting," Maxi said, but Ulyseon only beamed harder at her.

"There's no need to be modest! Anyway, you've gotta bring DUNK to our next practice. If coach sees how much we've improved, I bet I might even get a chance to play against Osiriya next week."

"You wish," said Garrow, strolling over. "Freshmen almost never get to start."

"The captain did! And I might not ever be as great as the captain, but shouldn't we, as college athletes, always at least have some hope that we can strive to be better than we are at any given moment? It's only--"

"You're talking Maxi's ear off. She doesn't want to hear you yap," Garrow said, and the two began to bicker as they walked towards the double doors. Just before they left the facility, however, both of them turned around and waved at her, grinning. 

Maxi waved back, laughing. Even though they were only a few years younger than her, she couldn't help but find them adorable, like two fighting kittens. She finally gathered her notebook and meandered over to Ruth, who began gesturing joyously at his napping brainchild. "This was fantastic! DUNK performed and out-scaled all my expectations and calculations."

"G-good. So wh-what is there left to test?" Maxi patted the robot's smooth, egg-white skull, as if it were a snoozing cat. It's had a long day, she thought. Three hours of non-stop ball. It deserved some rest and relaxation. 

"We need the players to rough up DUNK," said Ruth, folding the camera tripod away. "It's imperative to see how it reacts against physical confrontation. But Riftan told us to be careful today, so I told DUNK to be a good sportsman. We can look over the footage then change the parameters next week."

Maxi suspected Riftan didn't want DUNK touching his players at all, not today, not ever, but she kept her thoughts to herself. A ways behind her, Riftan and the starters were arguing in the corner. 

Ursuline raised his voice, then Hebaron, then Gabel, then Ursuline again. Their shouts reverberated in the empty facility and Maxi caught the vague shapes of their words. Something about Osiriya, the coach, Livadon--Elliot, ever the mediator, made settling motions with his hands, but Ursuline mimed something, pointing at the sky, at the courts, at Ruth and Maxi. Maxi bit her lip.  

Arms folded, Riftan studied the situation. After a moment, he spoke; there was a finality in his tone. The starters stilled, murmuring. Then, with a pause, a grumble, they all headed through the double doors, into the locker rooms. 

Soon, only Riftan remained behind, picking up a clipboard on the bleachers, jotting down notes.

"I'll, uh, just take this back to the lab," Ruth said, in a low voice, prying open the exit door with a pop. After sitting in a sweaty gym for the last few hours in thick tights and a knit sweater, the cool gust of evening air hit Maxi like a soothing balm. "Why don't you...go on."

"What?"

"Go on," said Ruth, jerking his head towards Riftan. "Go do your thing. Or don't, I guess. Up to you."

"W-wait, no--" Maxi reached to grab onto Ruth's shirt sleeve but only caught air. Ruth quickly pranced away with the wagon, the wheels rattling along the flagstones as he disappeared towards the still alight windows of Keating Hall. Maxi squeezed her eyes shut. Without Ruth, it was just her and Riftan. 

From across the court, Riftan turned a page on his clipboard. She wasn't sure if he noticed her presence and was ignoring her, or was just focused on his notes. Not used to being the one to initiate interaction, Maxi swayed awkwardly by the threshold of the exit, the cool air no longer refreshing but biting against her skin through her sweater and tights. Riftan was still writing, scratching away with his pen.

Maxi glanced at him, then at the floor. How could he not notice her? She willed him to look at her, call her name, say anything. She could stand being invisible to anyone else in the world, but not him. Maxi wanted to throw something, wave a flag. See me, want me, need me, please--unable to bear it any longer, she let the heavy door fall shut and walked towards him tentatively, her boots making soft, squeaking echoes on the maple wood, the physical distance between them seemingly as vast as the Pamela Plateau. 

Maxi was formulating what she might say to him when, just as she made it halfway, Riftan headed towards the glass door by the locker rooms, the one that led to the team offices, still keeping his eyes on the clipboard. Maxi stopped. He was leaving. And there, she imagined him go, ache digging into the marrow of her bones. She would turn around. She would scuttle back to the exit. The sting would come before the tears, burning her nose, and each welt would stream, like clipped wings, down her cheeks as she pushed into the dark campus chill alone. This image was pain enough to cut, pain enough to despair on, and Maxi dreaded the slow, inexorable arrival of her unraveling. 

"You coming?" Riftan asked. He didn't look up. The suddenness of his voice startled her; was he addressing someone else? Maxi glanced around, then back at him. Riftan peered up at her from the clipboard. There it was—a smile. Just the faintest hint of one, tugging at the corners of his lips, as if he couldn’t help it.

Everything stilled, everything quieted. Maxi pressed a fist to her chest, the weight on it seemingly dispelled. She gave a fleeting, uncertain nod, afraid he'd leave again, change his mind. Under his gaze, she walked faster, faster still, then broke into a light sprint. Spring followed her steps, a breeze whispering through her hair. He was watching her, waiting for her. This must be what it felt like to expect, to hope, to know. And it filled her like a mouthful of sunshine. When she reached him, breathless from just running the length of a court, he raised his eyebrows.

"Tired already?"

"Not all of us are famous a-athletes," said Maxi, crouched, panting. 

"Those shoes probably don't help," he said, giving a pointed glance at her boots and, from the floor, she shot him a look. Riftan snorted, and they both laughed. Delight twinkled, like sugar, in his voice. He bent over, extending an arm to help her up. 

Maxi knew that anyone else in her shoes wouldn't have seen this as anything but an act of kindness, a passing gesture. But for her, it was monumental. It felt as if Riftan had asked her a question and, when she placed her hand in his, she had answered him with her still-beating heart in the cradle of his palm. Pulling her up, she felt the warmth and callouses of his grip, his grasp gentle yet sure.

He held onto her hand and pushed open the glass door and, together, they made their way down the hallway.

### 

Riftan didn't let go of her until they entered the same office as earlier. The room that had once felt so claustrophobic and stifling in Riftan's anger now appeared as open and tranquil as the lake outside the window. He went to the computer chair, an oversized executive leather swivell-y thing, and gave her an apologetic look.

"Do you mind waiting?" he said. "I have to put in some quick notes and then I'll be free."

Free for what? Maxi wanted to know, but she only nodded. If he asked, Maxi would have waited for him until centuries passed, until she turned to stone. 

"Make yourself comfortable. There's drinks and snacks." Riftan pointed to a corner where there was a full-sized glass fridge and a wire rack full of oranges and bananas, sachets of beef jerky, and individually packaged trail mix. To keep from staring at the back of his head until she somehow bore holes into it, Maxi examined the fridge.

Sports drinks, shakes, soda. Beers, ciders, bottles of tequila and gin. She finally finally found a lone can of seltzer hiding behind a unopened wine box and cracked it open, taking a sip. Then, as she shuffled back to the couch, she stole a peek at him. Riftan was typing into a word document. 

"10/27. Practice: 19:00-22:30," she watched him write. "Players: performance as expected. Drills: as routine."

Compared to what the previous notetaker had seemingly written--a timestamped blow by blow of each practice, drill, and play, along with the physical status of each player--Riftan's notes were so sparse they bordered on meaningless. It might have been better to not have anything written at all. Maxi couldn't help but laugh. Riftan turned the chair to look up at her, bemused.

"Yes?"

"D-do you always write s-so little?" Maxi pointed at the screen. 

"Only when I'm in a rush," he said. Without getting up, he tugged at her hand. Unsure of what his intentions were, Maxi stumbled, just a little, as she crossed the short distance and eased in front of him onto the chair, facing the computer. The chair was wide enough that she wasn't quite on his lap and they weren’t pressed together, but they were still too close for comfort. With trembling fingers, Maxi placed the seltzer by the keyboard. 

Arms brushed around her, Riftan continued to type. He was writing an email to his coach. It didn't seem like he minded if she read it, but wanting to give him some privacy anyway, she focused on her lap. Maxi didn't know if she could concentrate enough to read, anyway. They were so close, she could smell him. And he should have smelled, she thought, because she had just watched him run his ass off for three hours. But his scent was of musk and leather, salt and smoke--it was intoxicating, and just thinking about it sent shivers up her spine. So Maxi remained still, not wanting to move, not wanting to spiral her mind further into the proverbial gutter. 

Finally, Riftan sent the email. He closed a few word documents, then shut down the computer. "You look really pretty today," he said, murmuring behind her. His breath tickled.

She hadn't expected such utter nonchalance from him: he had no problems touching her, flattering her, unraveling her with a single glance. Womanizer, she wanted to whip around and say. Rake. But turning would bring her face only a few inches away from his and she wanted to avoid physically combusting into a tower of flames. "Thank you. Y-you too."

"Oh, I look pretty?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice. He was flirting with her. At least she thought he was. And she had no idea what to say in return. Witty banter always escaped her and, even if she managed to come up with something that resembled a clever or sexy response, she knew her stutter would never allow her to sound anything other than a bleating goat. 

And, unfortunately, no one taught Flirting 101. There was no class, no lab, no book she could study from and she had, of course, absolutely no field experience to speak of. In high school and college, she avoided most boys like they carried an off-strain of the Bubonic plague and they with her; people really only spoke to her as a way to get to Rosetta. 

"You know what I m-mean."  

"I don't. You should tell me more." Riftan dropped his arms and placed them on either side of her, on the chair rests. Not quite touching her again, but not quite not, either. The chair shifted with his weight and, without meaning to, Maxi leaned back into his chest. She felt his breath catch.

Abruptly, Riftan stood up as if Maxi had burned him. The chair rolled backwards. She almost fell onto the carpet and caught herself on the edge of the table as he rushed to the door, his back to her, his neck a bright, almost fluorescent red. "You hungry? The dining hall's probably still open."

Hands still on the table, Maxi straightened, staring at the red that had traveled along his skin. It was a lovely shade, one she could almost taste on her tongue, cinnamon meeting wine. That said, Riftan was, by far, the most confusing person she'd ever met. "I didn't know th-they served food so late."

"Until three in the morning," he said, scratching his neck. "I, uh, I know I asked you for dinner, and this isn't what I meant, but--" he looked up at her, nervous. "But I'll take you out somewhere nicer later, somewhere you actually deserve. I promise."

What did he think she deserved? What did someone like her even deserve? She opened her mouth to speak, to refute him. But then she stopped. If anything, Maxi wanted to live up to the image he had of her. Even if it was all smoke and mirrors, she'd pretend, she'd perform, she'd pull out the whole nine yards; she'd do whatever she needed to for Riftan to keep looking at her the way he did: as if she brought about spring, as if she held up the sky. It was the way others would look at Rosetta. To be wanted was such a foreign, almost fabulist sensation, she couldn't bear to let it go, not yet. 

"I'll try t-to be worth it." And at her response, Riftan lit up like a great comet streaking across the night sky. What had she ever done to warrant this love, this unconditional adoration? If she could, Maxi wanted to bottle this feeling like perfume and carry it with her, spritz it on her neck and wrists so she could breathe it in, again and again. If only she could bask in the limelight of his gaze for the rest of her life. 

###

Chapter Text

As it was midnight on a Friday, there were only a handful of students at the dining hall. But even still, the two of them attracted attention as they loaded their trays from the buffet. Heads turned. Whispers followed. Fingers pointed. Phones pointed at their profiles and backs. Maxi wanted to hide behind a pillar, don a paper bag, deteriorate into a puddle of pudding, but Riftan didn't seem to notice or care about the gravity his presence was exerting over the room. 

"Let's sit over there?" Riftan motioned his head towards an empty area by the drink machines and windows. "It's quiet and--"

"Hey, Mago!" A woman's voice shouted at them across the room. A beat of silence fell across the dining hall as a tall, thin silhouette charged towards them, her long blond hair aswing. Riftan jerked his head up, annoyed, and identified the source of the interruption.

"Agnes," he said flatly, teeth gritted. "What do you want?"

"Tsk, tsk. So testy. Can't I simply greet our famous basketball star? And who's this pretty young thing you're on a date with?"

Riftan shot her an annoyed look. "She's not a thing, Agnes. Watch your mouth--"

Agnes brushed past Riftan to get to Maxi, grinning. She was so cavalier with her speech, with physical contact. A hot knot coiled in Maxi's stomach as she stared at Riftan's shoulder, at the spot Agnes had so easily touched. Was it envy, maybe? Maxi bit her lip. Yes, maybe. But more likely it was the bitter knowledge she’d never move so freely through a room, announcing her presence as torrentially and unapologetically as a summer typhoon. 

The bodyguard, an older, mustachioed man behind Agnes, stared up at the ceiling, seemingly cursing his job. "Princess, please, may I caution you to show some semblance of propriety--"

"I'm Agnes Reuben," she said, offering her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Maximillian C-croyso." Something about the interaction seemed to necessitate the use of her full name. Maxi wondered if she should curtsy, but with a tray full of food and  drink she knew better than to attempt the clumsy maneuver. "My p-pleasure, princess."

"Croyso?" Agnes tilted her head. "You must know Rosetta. Did you attend Drachium Academy? How come I've never seen you at court before with your father?"

The flurry of questions felt like a dizzying interrogation. Riftan moved in front of her. "Step off, Agnes. She doesn't need you to grill her."

"Have you always been such a Neanderthal, Mago? She can speak for herself." Agnes pulled at Maxi's wrists, dragging her to their table. "Come eat with me and Eamon -- he's crap company and I need a distraction from my thesis." At that, the bodyguard only groaned. Riftan hastened to follow, a glare darkening his face. 

The last time Maxi had truly seen Agnes up close -- for more than just fleeting glimpses of her blonde hair in the hallways of high school or Keating Hall -- was probably at Agnes’s high school graduation. King Reuben had thrown an elaborate ball and, even though Maxi had only been a sophomore, everyone at the school had been invited to the banquet. It was one of the few times she’d gone to court with her father and Rosetta, and it was only because her omission would have raised more questions than her presence.

After greeting the royal family, acting as the jovial, perfect family, her father had locked her out on a tucked away balcony and forbade her from returning to the main room until the party was over. Maxi had stayed there, crouched, clutching a thin shawl that barely covered her strapless dress, watching the chandeliers of the palace light all the attendees in gold and laughter. 

It wasn't until past midnight that Derek, one of her father’s bodyguards, came to fetch her. Maxi fell sick with pneumonia for a week after that, which suited her father fine — illness was his favorite excuse to justify her absence from anything, and it was even better when the excuse was made true.

The fact that Agnes didn't remember her--even though she was Rosetta's sister, even though they'd been in the same high school for two years and same department for almost four--stung, but Maxi was used to the feeling of being passed over. The sensation was as comfortable and familiar as an old, itchy sweater. She settled in the chair opposite from Agnes and Eamon, while Riftan sat next to her.

"Sorry. I know she's fucking nuts," he said quietly so only she could hear. "I can make her leave--"

Maxi smiled, but shook her head. It wouldn't do them any good to offend royalty. 

"So, Maximillian," Agnes said, twirling a strand of her blond hair. "Now that I look at you closely, I think I've seen you around Keating. You must be studying engineering as well."

"Yes. I'm w-working with Ruth on a paper right n-now--"

Poorly disguised disgust etched across Agnes' face. "Oh, him. What was he calling that thing again? BOINK? CRUNK?"

"DUNK, your h-highness."

"Call me Agnes." Agnes waved her hand. "None of this princess crap. And Maximillian, you're wasting your talents with that idiot. You should look into my research instead. I'm prototyping autonomous drone surveillance tech with--"

Riftan, who had been listening with barely contained rage, put his glass down. "Agnes. For once in your life, shut the fuck up. Quit dragging people into doing your dirty work."

"R-riftan." Maxi was shocked at how he was speaking to the princess. "It's okay, really. I'm f-fine."

"It's not fine to me." His voice softened as he glanced at Maxi. "She has a tendency to steamroll people into doing her bidding and you shouldn't have to be pulled--"

"Do I hear you offering to help me then, Mago?" Agnes smirked. "You still owe me from saving your skin that last time in Livadon."

"Shut. Up." Riftan clenched his jaw. Agnes smiled winningly in response, her lips curled like a cat that had just discovered a pot of clotted cream. Maxi volleyed glances between the two of them and a drowning feeling sunk its way to the crevices of her chest. What happened in Livadon? What did they do? What did Mago even mean? There was something there. Familiarity, nicknames, resentment--

Did they date before? A sharp pain rended Maxi, the intrusive thought a knife twisting in her chest and, for a moment, she couldn't quite breathe. 

"How's Rosetta?" Agnes changed the subject, leaning towards Maxi. "Is she still at Osiriya?"

"Y-yes, at the Orthodox U-university." In preparation to join the royal family, Rosetta volunteered to attend Osiriya Orthodox University instead of Wedon, hoping to form closer ties to the church in order to strengthen the bond between the kingdoms. It wasn't even something the duke had told her to do--Rosetta had come up with this all on her own, to Maxi's complete lack of surprise. "She's doing v-very well there."

Agnes made a noise between a cough and a laugh. "I'm sure she is. Do you speak with her often?"

"Unfortunately no, p-princ--I mean, Agnes."

"Oh, well, then you should go with Riftan to his away game against them next week," Agnes said brightly. "We can meet with her then."

"Agnes." Riftan looked as if he would have liked nothing better than to strangle the princess. "I'm warning you."

"Why not? Do you have anything against your girlfriend tagging along?"

At that, both Riftan and Maxi flushed. They hadn't quite labeled their relationship yet, hadn't even gone on an official date yet. Riftan wiped his lips with a paper napkin, seemingly stalling for time, while Maxi stared down at her pasta, face turning as red as the tomato sauce. 

"It's not about that," Riftan said, finally. "It's dangerous. There's a potential murder robot on the loose."

"Oh, come on. What's even a robot going to do in a crowd full of people? Let's make it simple: are you busy next Tuesday, Maximillian?"

"I, um, no, b-but--" Maxi glanced at Riftan, unsure of how or what to answer.

"It's settled then. You'll join me on my private jet--I'm sure it beats sitting next to a dozen boys reeking of BO."

Riftan scowled. "What are you going to the away game for?"

"I happen to still enjoy the world of sports even if I'm no longer a player myself. And as Wedon's princess, it's only fitting that I make an appearance at the occasional game. The Dragons are our crown jewel, after all." Agnes bopped him on the nose with a chopstick and Riftan flicked it away.

"You are the most batshit annoying person I've ever had the misfortune to meet--"

"Whatever I need to do to get the job done, Mago."

Riftan rolled his eyes at her response. Despite his hostility, the intimacy and shared history in their conversation was still nigh unbearable to Maxi. Sullenly, she stirred at her angel hair, grimacing, willing herself to go deaf. Noticing something was off with her, however, Riftan turned towards her, his brows furrowed. "You okay?"

"Y-yes, I'm just tired." 

"Wait here, I can bus our trays and take you back--"

"Ugh, you two are just _so_ stinking cute. I can't stand it." Agnes yawned. "You know, Maximillian, I never thought I'd see Mago so stuck on someone. I honestly thought he was going to die a virgin--"

"Princess!" Eamon shot her a horrified look. "That's quite enough."

"Oh, ye Gods, Eamon, grow up. You're such a prude."

"You're lucky you're a girl, Ags," Riftan pinched the bridge of his nose. A vein was jumping in his jaw. "Otherwise you'd be missing a few teeth by now."

"Then I'll have to thank the fact that I'm part of the better sex, won't I?" Agnes stood, smiling roguishly, tray in hand. Eamon followed suit, relief spreading across his weary face that they were leaving. "Anyway, I get the hint. I'll leave you two to your date. It was wonderful meeting you, Maximilian. I'll pick you up after your classes Tuesday."

And with that, the princess and her bodyguard left, leaving Maxi feeling as disoriented as if she'd been churned through a hurricane. Soon after, Riftan took their trays away, asking her to wait near the entrance. Maxi sat on a couch, twiddling her thumbs, until she watched Riftan return with a cloth napkin laden with items of irregular shape. She peered at him curiously.

"You ready?" he asked. 

Maxi bobbed her head, but pointed at the napkin. "Wh-what's that?" 

He put his finger to his lips, glancing at the front desk of the dining hall. The clerk, a student worker responsible for scanning IDs, appeared exhausted and bored. "Come on."

Putting the cloth inside his jacket, they headed out into the cold. Once outside, he led her to a dark corner bench and beckoned for her to come closer. Like a magician, he unearthed cartons of milk from each pocket. Then, smiling conspiratorially, he unveiled the cloth with a flourish. It was stacked with an assortment of cookies from the dessert bar. Maxi laughed.

"D-do you have a s-sweet tooth?"

"Depends on the company." He shook the bounty at her, the cookies jostling. She took one, white chocolate macadamia nut, and bit into it. Warm, buttery, soft--the edges were crisped to caramelized perfection and the center was toasted, hot, and gooey. Maxi opened her mouth, fanning the heat, and Riftan grinned. 

"These are better than they u-usually are!" 

"I used to work with one of the guys in the back--he snuck them to me fresh out of the oven."

"You w-worked with him?"

"Yeah, a few years ago. Construction," said Riftan, sinking his teeth into a snickerdoodle. "I got him the job here after." 

Construction? How? When? Why? Maxi wanted to ask more, but couldn't bring herself to breach the questions, worried she'd scare him away with her curiosity. Riftan's life seemed to differ so completely from hers--her own life had been a straight, sheltered line: she had lived, for the most part, locked up in the Croyso Duchy and then, in high school, all four years nestled within the tall, ivy-covered brick walls of the boarding school at Drachium Private Academy. 

But with Riftan, everything he did, everything he said, everything he was was filled with overflowing color, saturated with hues of a fantastical nebula. To her, he was unmapped, unknown, and wrought within her a sense of strange, childlike wonder. She wanted, then, with all her heart, to know everything about this boy, this beautiful, infuriating, confusing boy who smuggled out cookies for her, who blushed at the drop of a hat, who told her she was pretty as if it were an objective, undeniable truth. The way he made her feel must've been how sailors felt when they traced the edge of the world with a sextant, how astronomers stared up at stars they’d never touched but named. 

Riftan thumbed a crumb away from her lip, lingering on her cheek, and Maxi glanced up at him. In the dim lighting, she couldn't quite see his eyes, but felt the dark heat on her all the same. A shiver ran up her spine. 

"You should..." Riftan moved his hand back, his eyes closed. "You should tell me if you hate any of this."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"This. Me, touching you. Any of this--" He looked out towards the dark and empty campus and, for a moment, he was at a loss for words. "I don't want to hurt you."

Never, for a moment, could Maxi ever believe Riftan would hurt her. Hurt was a glare, a curse, a locked door; a cane, a whip, a backhanded slap. With shaking fingers, Maxi reached for Riftan's hand, placing it along the lines of her cheek, leaning into the warmth of his skin. He stilled.

"I don't h-hate it--" The words were more difficult to say now than ever, but she willed her tongue to comply, just once, to not betray her like it always did. "I...like it. I do. I'm just...not used to someone...like you l-liking someone l-like....me."

Riftan's expression was blank at first, unreadable. Then, as if bathed by warm candlelight, his face softened. 

"Well," he said, his voice low. "Get used to it."

He brushed aside her curls. When she didn't flinch, when she didn't make a motion to move, when she closed her eyes, he leaned in. Pressed his lips to hers. Riftan tasted sweet, like hot sugar melting on her tongue. A sensation of breathless falling overtook Maxi, swooped at her, weightless and dizzying. She was plummeting, faster and faster, as if approaching escape velocity, as if speeding towards the point of no return.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, almost like a whisper. But then it deepened into something urgent, heady, needy, as if he'd been waiting a lifetime, as if they both had. Without knowing it, Maxi pulled against Riftan's shirt, anchoring herself to him, his tongue entwined with hers. Heat rippled up her skin. A soft moan escaped from her lips. His hand searched for the hem of her sweater, feeling underneath the layers, the knit, reaching upwards, and his fingers grazed against the lip of her bra. The touch jolted her and Maxi squeaked in surprise. With that, Riftan broke apart their kiss, pushing her back. 

"Christ. You--" Riftan put his face in his hands, head bowed between his legs. A long, shaky breath left him. "You're going to be the death of me."

Maxi turned bright red. "Oh my G-god. H-how can you say that? Look wh-who's talking!"

"Me? You're the big bad wolf here. I just came to bring you cookies." Riftan peeked at her through the slits of his fingers, grinning.

"You--" Maxi batted at his shoulder, and he laughed, pretending to fend her off with his arms raised. She reached for a chocolate chip cookie and broke it in half, handing him one. "You pl-player. I b-bet you seduce all the other g-girls with stolen sweets."

Riftan snorted. "Now that's just slander."

Maxi nibbled at the cookie. Her skin, the spots that Riftan had touched, still tingled with heat, with warmth, like moonlight silting the earth with its glow. She leaned into him. In response, Riftan slid his arm around her, pulling her close. Maxi closed her eyes, breathing it all in--the autumn wind, the sugar on her lips, Riftan's scent--feeling, for once, a deep, boundless serenity, as if embraced by the vast night sky, as if wrapped in the hush of the stars. As if, all along, she was right where she was meant to be.

###

Chapter Text

Their official dinner date was rain-checked for after the game with Osiriya--Coach Triton had returned from his earldom early Saturday and insisted the team practice and drill over the weekend and even the Monday after, much to the team's dismay. Discipline, team synergy, strategy building--Triton had a game plan and was leaving no survivors.

Riftan had called, apologetic. Basking in the afterglow of Friday night, Maxi was gracious and understanding on the phone but spent all of Saturday and Sunday on the couch with Sidina, watching a marathon of bad lifetime movies and pouting.

Anette came home from her yoga class halfway through one of their movies. Hanging her coat and dropping her bag, she rolled her eyes at the state of their living room: half-eaten pizza boxes scattered on the floor, liters of champagne bubbling in plastic cups, nail polish and peeled face masks strewn across the coffee table. "Are you two for serious? Still? We have Serbel's midterm later this week--"

"Let the girl grieve! She's in the throes of missing her boy toy." Sidina shook a bowl of popcorn toward Anette. "And come join us. I made kettle corn."

Anette snuggled up next to Maxi, the redhead's crown of curls buried underneath a blanket. She kicked up her legs and patted Maxi's head sympathetically. "Fine. But only for the kettle corn."

Maxi sighed, listless, staring dramatically out their second-floor balcony window, which only made Anette groan. "My God. It's probably a good thing you never dated before now. Forget about getting the fellowship--you would have failed all your classes."

"Sh-shut up." Maxi unpaused the movie. Each one of her bitten fingernails was painted a different color, a result of Sidina's experimentation. "I know I'm b-being dumb."

"Yes, you are," Sidina said cheerfully, and Maxi scowled. On the screen, rain poured as a noble woman sobbed on a cobblestone street in Balto, howling for her lover knight who had departed for war. "But we get it. If a hot basketball player had scooped me up, I'd be a mopey mess too."

"Yeah, right." Anette snorted. Both she and Sidina had always been methodical about their relationships and past flings. Anette demanded STD tests from every potential partner before she even considered saying yes to dinner and Sidina only dated boys she thought were dumber than her, preferably from other kingdoms, because she believed long-distance was the best way to keep her independence. 

"Everyone's a masochist for love." Sidina sighed dreamily. "Just don't forget to wrap it before you tap it--"

Maxi flung a pillow at Sidina, who caught it with a grin. "Oh, our little Maxi's growing up."

"And if he doesn't want to go down on you, dump him," Anette said, munching on a few kernels of popcorn, and Maxi wished for the couch to open up and swallow her whole. 

"Facts, babe." Sidina fist-bumped Anette. 

"I h-hate both of you," Maxi mumbled, and the two of them cackled into peals of hyena-like laughter. Her two friends got along best when they were actively embarrassing her, which she didn't appreciate, and she muffled her face into the blanket.

"You and I both know you'll be less of a grouch once you see him throw ball. Oh, whoa--" Sidina pointed at the screen. The Baltan woman had donned a brown robe, smearing dirt on her skin, dressing up as a healer to follow her lover into the frontlines. "What a girl boss." 

Maxi watched as the woman on screen nestled into a carriage, disguising herself with the rest of the medic unit, the roads bumpy and precarious and littered with monsters. Even as the cries of the dead and dying echoed around her, the woman pressed on, determined--brewing poultice, cleaning wounds, bandaging and splinting limbs--all the while trying to find the whereabouts of her knight. 

Amazing, thought Maxi as she gazed on, entranced. The battlefield outside the medical tents rared. Swords glinting, cannons firing. In tears, ignoring the noise, the woman continued on, sewing together a wide gash on someone's stomach. If only I could be that brave.

###

Monday slipped by without much thought, save for a text from Riftan at about two in the morning -- "Good night. :yawn_emoji: Finally hitting the hay. See you tomorrow," then, as if an afterthought, about a whole minute later, "I miss you."

A mix of fluster, guilt, and sympathy colored Maxi's cheeks and emotions. While she was moping after him on the couch, he'd been in practice and meetings all weekend and all day, clearly worn to the bone and exhausted. 

Then, after her Operating Systems class on Tuesday, Maxi came home to a long, black limousine parked in the apartment's parking lot. Little flags bearing the Wedon monarchy's crest billowed from the corner windows, the growling lions glimmering in the afternoon light. Maxi approached the vehicle, sighing. 

Agnes emerged from the backseat, lithe and graceful like a golden panther. "Maximillian!"

"Y-your highness--" Before she could say anything, her words were cut off by a tight hug from the princess. 

"Eamon, grab Maximillian's bag, won't you?" 

Her tote was lifted from her shoulders as Maxi was ushered into the backseat--the whole thing felt more like an elaborate kidnapping than an escort. The car's sitting area was spacious, enough for at least a dozen people to move around comfortably, and the furnishings were shiny, new, and bright. Maxi slid awkwardly into the seat across from the princess, the leather squeaking beneath her. Soft jazz played in the background. The princess pulled out a pair of glasses and a small laptop.

"Would you like any refreshments?" she asked, not looking up from the screen. "Help yourself."

"Um, sure." Maxi reached for a mini-bottle of water in the built-in fridge as the car began to move, turning smoothly onto the main roads and then the highway. "Thank y-you."

"I have to respond to a few emails from my adviser. I promise we'll talk more soon." Agnes gave her an apologetic smile. "The airport's just a fifteen minute drive from here, so bear with this a little. I know it's cramped."

Even her own father's limousines were not nearly as luxurious. Maxi knew she, herself, had grown up with immense privilege, but the princess belonged to an entirely different stratosphere within the confines of Drachium castle. There was no need for her to go to graduate school, to prove herself, to be anything, really. She could have lived the life of a fairytale princess, married off to a foreign prince, her path smooth and paved and gilded and completely unchanged--attendants by her side, ferried from one location to the next, all her needs met, never having to ask or explain or want for anything.  

Yet here she was, in the back of a limousine, typing furiously, juggling correspondence and coursework like any other bleary-eyed and overworked graduate student. Maxi gazed upon Agnes' visage--her straight, pert nose, her bright blue eyes--and wondered what the princess could possibly worry about, what could ever possibly plague her nights, if anything. 

They sat in relative silence, save for the quick pattering of Agnes' fingers on the keyboard. When they reached the private, secluded airport, entering in through a tall, gated parking lot, a private royal jumbo jet awaited them on the runway.  

Agnes motioned for Maxi to hurry, the white of the wings gleaming in the distance, and Maxi leapt out of the car, chasing after Agnes towards the ramp. It was a longer sprint than she'd expected and, as they headed in, ducking their head through the closing doors, Agnes laughed, kicking her stilettos off onto one of the long couches as Maxi sidled in next to her, breathless. She suspected she had to start building up her stamina somehow if she was going to be hanging around the likes of both Agnes and Riftan.

"W-was that necessary?" The plane was, of course, not going to take off without their passengers, of which there were only two. 

"Oh, come on now, Maximillian. Wasn't that warm up fun?" Agnes accepted a glass of cool spritzer from one of the flight attendants, her cheeks flushed. 

Maxi didn't answer, taking a sip from her own glass. The plane roared to life soon after, and zipped off the landing strip without further ado. It was a two hour plane ride to Osiriya's capitol of Balbourne and Maxi looked out the window as the sprawling city of Drachium faded into a blink behind her. The glass was cool against her warm cheeks. She turned to the princess, who gave her a charming, effortless smile.

"I usually prefer to drive to Osiriya," Agnes said. "You get to see more of the mountains, eat at the local inns."

"D-do you make the trip often?"

"With my brother," Agnes replied, her gaze also drifting to the window, fingers pressed to the glass. "You must know Elias, Rosetta's fiance. As children, we'd make stops in some of the towns and villages, get to know the land--part of our royal training, you see."

Maxi had never met Elias, only seeing him from a distance at school. He, too, attended Osiriya Orthodox University with Rosetta, and looked much like a taller, male Agnes. "What's h-he like?"

"Nothing like you'd expect. Charming when he wants to be, ruthless when not. He'll make a good king, once my father abdicates later this year." 

Maxi nodded. That part wasn’t news: several years ago, it had been announced that the king planned to step down shortly before Elias and Rosetta’s marriage to ensure a smooth transition of power. The duke had been thrilled. Every time Maxi went home for the brief stint she was required to over the summer to keep appearances, her father wouldn’t stop waxing poetic about how his second daughter would become queen before even graduating university.

Agnes continued, twirling a lock of her hair. "Elias is much more conservative than the court gives him credit for, though. Doesn't think much of my research." She gave a short, humorless laugh. "He thinks robotics should be banned outright. The church has him wrapped around their finger, even if he won't admit it."

"But wh-what about medical r-robotics?" Maxi thought about Serbel's Cardio-Arm and even DUNK, who Ruth was hoping to eventually turn into a disaster rescue bot or surgical assistant one day. 

"Too many military applications still," Agnes edged at the fabric along her collar. "A lot of the nobles are building their own defense compounds, so you can see why he's concerned."  

Maxi thought back to her father. Growing up, the Duke of Croyso had always, in court, dismissed talk of national defense as “overblown crown paranoia,” especially given the long-standing armistice between the Seven Kingdoms. But, by the time Maxi was in high school, the duke had quietly erected tall, grey security walls around their estates and increased patrols on every property. He claimed it was to shield Rosetta from the nosy and incessant paparazzi--future queen and all that--but Maxi had overheard too many hushed conversations outside her father's study to take him at his word.

The Croyso Duchy bordered Dristan, and nearly half of her father’s holdings were contested land; his ownership was secured only through marriage to Maxi’s mother, and later to Rosetta’s, both direct descendants of the fallen Roem Empire and among the few who could legitimately claim the ambiguous territory.

Even so, the land disputes were still a point of tension between the two countries. Her father’s voice always turned brittle and harsh when discussing the crown’s supposed “support” of the duchy. Over dinner with his vassals, she'd heard him snarl about “filthy Dristani barbarians” and “Wedon’s weak spine” before his associates would abruptly change the subject and still their lord's anger, wary of how close the words strayed to treason.

"I s-see," Maxi murmured. As much as she bore no loyalty to the duchy or the desire to inherit it, she still couldn't bring herself to divulge anything about her father to the princess. Hastily, she pivoted the topic back to safer territory, to her sister. "D-does your brother get along well with Rosetta?"

A flicker of emotion flickered, briefly, across Agnes' face before she smiled. "Yes, I think so. He's very kind to her. She's hard not to love. And they look good together."

Of course they would, Maxi snorted to herself. Like twin suns in the sky, jewels on a crown. 

"You know, you're a lot like her," Agnes tapped at her lap, not quite meeting Maxi's eyes. "Quieter, of course. But you watch people the same way. Like you see them for who they are, what they want to be. Riftan's lucky."

Maxi wasn’t sure what to say--no one had ever compared her to Rosetta like this and she herself had never seen her sister that way. Despite living under the same roof for years, she and Rosetta barely spoke. Their interactions were limited to passing each other butter at the dining room table, brushing shoulders in the hallway, and the occasional, always-chaperoned, shopping trip when their nanny helped Rosetta find a dress for a royal function or soirée. Even then, they didn’t talk. They tried on clothes. They purchased their outfits. And they left with their bags in silence. "Th-thank you. That's very g-generous."

"Not at all. You'll know that I give compliments rarely, and only when deserved." Agnes looked up at her, grinning. She tucked a loose strand of her hair back. "Now, let's watch a movie, shall we? Otherwise what's the point of a private jet?" 

With a press a button, a large projector screen rolled down from the ceiling. Agnes selected an action film, one that hadn't released yet in theaters, and the bass of the starting soundtrack thundered around them in clear, IMAX clarity. A few moments later, chocolate drizzled strawberries were presented to them through a gap of the screen and Agnes pulled at the silver tray happily, offering Maxi one while popping another in her mouth. 

"By Gods do I hate flying. But creature comforts sure help," Agnes said, cheeks full of strawberries, looking so much like a cheerful chipmunk that Maxi couldn't help but laugh at the sight. 

Not soon after, near the end of the movie, the plane touched down at the Balbourne International Airport. The sky was drizzling, but the dark clouds in the distance threatened a roll of harder, faster rain. A fleet full of bodyguards in black suits greeted them as Eamon sprung open a large, black umbrella to shield the three of them from the weather. Escorting them through security, the bodyguards ushered Maxi and Agnes into yet another limousine. It wasn't until the car began driving that Maxi realized it was the first time she'd been out of Wedon and no one had noticed, not even herself. 

### 

Chapter Text

The game was due to start in a couple hours so, with time to kill, Agnes instructed the limousine to stop by Rosetta's place. From what Maxi knew, Rosetta lived alone in a mansion perched on one of the sprawling hills overlooking the basilicas of Balbourne. It was an estate gifted by the king, one of the crown's dozens of properties scattered across the kingdoms. The prince lived just next door, in a separate complex, but from what little gossip Maxi heard from the Croyso maids, the two might as well have been living on opposite ends of the country. The couple rarely saw each other outside of events or shared classes. 

"We r-really don't have to--" Maxi trailed off as they approached a paved path guarded by a patrol box and tall gates of wrought steel. The bars bore the Wedonian crest and, with a nod from the guard inside, the doors swung open at a beep from the driver’s badge. At this, Maxi's anxiety spiked. She fidgeted with the hem of her cardigan. "She's p-probably busy."

"Nonsense, Maximillian," Agnes said, fluffing her skirt with a graceful hand. "How could you stop in Osiriya and not say hello to your sister?"

As the limousine wound up the hill, Maxi glanced at the passing scenery through the tinted windows. This, she realized, was the landscape Rosetta saw every day. Even from this height, midway up the hill, Balbourne was breathtaking. The Gothic basilicas the city was renowned for came into sharp focus between the clouds, the marble, hand-carved steeples and luminous stained-glass windows rising like distant castles in the sky. 

Down below, the main plaza teemed with life. Tiny street vendors called out their wares, artists painted under umbrellas, and musicians busked strings of sweet song through the autumn air. Spiral arches stretched across manmade rivers with ribbons of gleaming stone, casting soft shadows over the gondolas drifting beneath them in the late afternoon light. 

It was a city that didn't ask for reverence, awe, and admiration: it demanded it. And Rosetta had all that and more within spitting distance of her front door.

Rosetta wouldn’t care if Maxi had stopped by, probably wouldn't even register the visit as anything but a fly buzzing in her ear. But the idea of Agnes witnessing, first-hand, her sister's cool indifference towards her made Maxi want to fling herself out the door and straight off the hill. Since the bodyguards would almost certainly stop her, Maxi could only brace herself for the inevitable humiliation.

A buzz from within her pocket interrupted her train of thought. She checked her phone, lighting up at the notification, then glanced at Agnes.

"Riftan?" Agnes chortled. "Go on."

Earlier, when they had landed in Balbourne, Maxi had texted him a photo of the landing strip at the airport. And just now, Riftan had responded with a photo of the team's lounge area in Osiriya. In the corner, she saw the sleeping, snoring profile of Hebaron on a plush suede couch while Gabel sat on a separate sectional, scrolling his phone. A mug of half-drunk back coffee was in the foreground

"Good luck," typed Maxi. "Can't wait to see you soon." She hovered over a heart emoji, hesitated, and instead sent a four-leaf clover.

The limousine turned into a white limestone driveway, curving toward the estate’s main entrance. Maxi stared up and gasped. Glass walls shimmered like ice. Pillars of stark white stone framed the façade, trimmed in subtle flourishes of white gold and diamonds. Through the windows, Maxi glimpsed rows upon rows of crystal chandeliers, hallway upon echoing hallway of what must be empty and vacant rooms. 

The mansion couldn't be more Rosetta if it tried. 

They stepped out, and the limousine discreetly disappeared into a private lot. The bodyguards kept their distance, earpieces in, expressions flat. 

Maxi trailed after Agnes. With a sharp rap of the front paddle, they waited before the enormous double doors and, after a moment, Maxi saw movement behind the glass: Rosetta, descending the staircase, her pace deliberate and silhouette unmistakable. Dressed in ivory, with layers upon layers of lace petticoats, she was a vision, like a fairy from times past. 

A maid opened the door and bowed her retreat. Rosetta appeared to greet them. The gracious, polite smile she typically wore, like armor, flickered, then faltered at the sight of them; a succession of emotions--surprise, hurt, then something harder--fluttered across her face before she reassembled herself, eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Maxi flinched. "R-rosetta, I'm s-sorry. I j-just--"

"Not you." Rosetta's gaze swept over as if she were an odd piece of lawn furniture, as if she'd just noticed her. "Although that's a good question too."

She stepped outside and pulled the door closed with a click. Looking around, her voice dropped, taut like a pulled string, and she hissed, "I told you I didn't want to see you again--"

Agnes opened her mouth, then closed it. "Rosie..."

"I meant it. Leave me alone." Rosetta shook, just barely. She smoothed her hair back.  

"What was I supposed to do? You won't return my calls, you won't read my texts, you won't respond to my emails--"

"Agnes, shut up--" Rosetta glanced at the bodyguards, then at Maxi, her voice growing shrill. "Come with me. And you--" she pointed at Maxi "--stay put." 

With smooth, composed poise, Rosetta glided towards a side garden and Agnes followed her. Theories grew wild, like tangled vines, within Maxi's head as she watched their shadows disappear behind a corner.

It couldn't be—

Homecoming night flashed before Maxi's eyes: Agnes and Rosetta on stage, queen and princess, hands waving in sync, in tandem, twin sashes glowing white. No, that couldn't—

Rosetta was engaged to Agnes’ brother, Elias. She’d gone to the palace nearly every other day in high school, even without father’s prompting. What did that mean--

Agnes asking her about Rosetta in the dining hall, the plane--

But Rosetta--her sister and Agnes? But what about Agnes and Riftan? Was there an Agnes and Riftan? What--

Maxi's brain was about to split open. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Maxi tiptoed towards the garden. She wound through a twisting pathway of flowers and trees until a pair of voices grew clearer and clearer. Maxi crouched behind a squat terracotta pot, peeking through the leaves of a rose bush. 

"--think if you showed up here with my sister, of all people, you'd be able to scare me into giving you the time of day? Well, guess what Ags. Tell her. Drag her into this. If humiliating me makes you feel better, be my guest. She won’t be able to touch me anyway--"

"That's not what I meant! You know that's not what I meant." Tears streamed down Agnes' face. Maxi couldn't believe it. "I just wanted to see you. Is that such a crime?"

"You've seen me. Happy? Now go." Rosetta turned away, exasperated. 

Agnes clutched at Rosetta, grasping at the silk bows on the back of her bodice. "Rosie--"

"The next time you see me, I'll be crown princess, and I expect you to address me as such." Rosetta straightened, then pushed Agnes away with a flick of her hand. "Now take my pathetic excuse of a sister and leave. You sicken me." 

Rosetta strode down the path, past Maxi, without even noticing her. Maxi glanced once more toward the garden. Agnes had crumpled to the ground, sobbing quietly into her hands, her blue skirt stained with grass and dirt. Maxi wanted to go to her, to offer something, anything, but she had a feeling Agnes only ever let herself fall apart in front of one person. And that person had just walked away, her own sapphire eyes wet with tears.

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