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Attilan. Tucked away in the Himalayan mountains, it is near impossible to find…unless you have already been there. Or, in the case of many Inhumans, were born there. It is even more heavily protected now than it ever has been. There is no glimpsing it from a plane, or tracking it on radar. It is as invisible as a single flake of snow against the mountain range. Lockjaw the unerring, though, can still remember. He, of all the creatures of the earth, can still bring them /home/. WOOF.
The city is vibrant and alive. Its siloquette is familiar, as many buildings remain exactly the same as they were, but there are other little jabs at memory…new things, new buildings. The seat of the Genetic Council appears to be completely new…once the site of the crash that killed Crystal's Aunt and Uncle. At vantage, where Lockjaw has brought her, there are other changes. Fashion seems to have altered a little, as would be expected. Men are wearing longer coats. Women seem to have adopted a style of square-like hats. Just observing the street below the palace balcony. The guard uniforms have changed some as well, which Crystal gets a close look at, when one comes running towards her, while another runs off in the other direction. Minor changes. The shoulders are not so broad, and the fabric is thinner and softer. The room that attaches to the balcony is familiar, and circular in nature. Big, broad, it is a place for gatherings, and in the 40s and 50s, it was full of councilors, full of arguments and laughing both. Now, it is quiet. The banners are elegant, white and black, the symbol of the house of Boltagon, which hasn't changed, even if the bro-in-charge did.
"Is…Lady…" The guardsman stutters, but he isn't old enough to have been a guard during the coup. "must be. His Majesty said…you were welcome." Though there is a hesitance, there, on his personal part. Ten years. It is a long time, especially to the young. It may be a strange feeling…having been the ousted, exiled victim for so long, to realize that to some in Attilan, she is seen as a threat, a danger. Every coin has two sides.
*
Blackagar gave Crystal a mission. It was a much less terrifying mission when she thought that Maximus was at the Hotel Chelsea.
But when she called the hotel, they said that the guest had left. Which meant…bearding the lion in his den. Lovely. Crystal prepared as best she could, even pulling out one of the gowns she'd used in Asgard. An elven creation woven of sunlight and starlight in shades of gold and silver, it clings and floats around her in elegant falls of fabric. Regal. She's swept her hair up in curls, held in place with the black band that's one of the few things that left Attilan with her.
She appears with Lockjaw on the balcony, where she waits with a hand on his shoulder until the guard appears, dipping her chin with a small, reassuring smile. "Guardsman. I am Princess Crystal Amaquelin, and I seek an audience with the king on behalf of his brother."
*
The Guard bows to the Princess. It seems right. And she's so gorgeous. "Come with me." He offers, and then turns.
As long as she follows, her dress will flow over familiar stones. It is…much as it always was. There's a workman fixing a windowframe. An old man pokes his head out of one room to look. A pair of women move through on errands. And the guard will take her to the throne room. It is also circular, with many windows, the throne on a dias, and seats around it in a partial circle. There is some sort of machine near one of the windows. A light blinks on it every few seconds. It is tall, slender, and could pass for a lamp if there were others. Maximus is not in the room. No one is, besides her..and the guard. The hour is weird, though. Not exactly the time for business anyway.
*
Crystal leaves Lockjaw on the balcony. Whether it's an act of trust, leaving her escape route behind, or an act of caution, leaving him out of Maximus' hands, is up for grabs. Her heart aches as she walks toward the throne room, memories of her childhood tumbling over each other. Of races and contests to get to this very room. Or long court sessions to be endlessly endured.
As she and the guard reach the throne room, she takes a long look around, particularly at the new machine there. Noted, but technology was never her forte. Studies of any sort, for that matter. She always preferred action.
She clasps her hands in front of herself, glancing to the guard. "How fares the city?" she asks quietly, as if it's only a matter of small talk.
*
ROLL: Maximus +rolls 1d20 for a result of: 3
*
The guard seems definitely uncertain if he should talk to her or not. He knows this is a /big deal/. Maybe even dangerous. Is she trying to get information out of him? He takes some long moments to answer, "The city is well-guarded and safe from outsiders." Is about all he manages to say before they are joined by Maximus and another man, this one a brunette. Crystal would recognize this fellow as being the man who was with the car. A personal guard/attendant.
"You came." Maximus smiles. He has bare feet, and his Attilan dress of black and white long coat, over an athletic type single-piece suit. There is a smudge on his face and the way the coat swings, there must be objects of weight in the pockets of it. "Now you see." Filled with some excitement, he moves forward and past her. The guard stops, leaving him to walk to the big windows alone. He gestures out towards the city. "Attilan!"
*
"I know the city, Maximus." Crystal stays where she stands, though she turns to watch him, one hand clasping her wrist in front of herself over a golden cuff bracelet. "I spoke with Blackagar."
For all she's a woman of action, she's become a diplomat perforce, and now she struggles with the right choice to make. He's the enemy. He's what keeps her from home. He's dangerous. But he's also family, just as much as the others. And she's not sure how much of anything he does he can be held accountable for.
"He sent me with a message."
*
Maximus frowns. "No, i know that you know the city. But I am showing you that it still stands. And she is ready. For all of you to come back home. I would welcome you. I have. Outside these walls the world grows ever darker, ever more violent, and /they/ must be coming." Maximus tips his chin down. "But you are divided." he exhales and moves towards the machine. "So much work work work to make a machine and now I have to alter it." He makes a tsk sound, three times. he absolutely appears to be ignoring the fact that shes here being all serious with a message from his brother. Delaying. Siphoning what social interaction he can from it.
*
"Who must be coming, Maximus?" Crystal sighs, relenting enough for conversation. "The Kree? The ones you were trying to make a deal with in the first place? Why do you care if they're coming back here?" She steps forward toward the window and the machine, though she still keeps a respectful distance. Enough to reassure any potentially jumpy guards.
*
Maximus wrinkles his nose. "I never wanted the Kree here. Deals are meant to be broken. Have you never made a deal with someone you didnt like for a greater purpose? They are still the enemy. The Skrull are here. So I hear. They will follow. I have spent years making certain they will not find us or attack us." The guard that escorted her seems a little jumpy, but the brunette seems much calmer. He has a protective gaze for the King, while the other is just doing his job.
*
Crystal grimaces, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. Over the dress she wore in Asgard, seeking an alliance by marriage when she was already in love. "And the last ten years? The assassins hunting us down? It's a little late to pretend everything is fine, Maximus. That we can all go back to happy families."
*
Maximus says, "What assassins are you talking about? I never sent /assassins/. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you instead of exile." Maximus lifts a hand, pointing a finger. "I have only bothered to look for you recently, because of Asgard. And because its time."
*
"Who even told you about Asgard?" Crystal asks, head tilting as she watches him. "I've been thinking about it. I have theories. It's narrowed down, really. Most of Asgard, I think, is just as happy that it all happened. That it all worked out for the best in the end. Which leaves one person with a grudge, one who could be uninformed, and one who just likes the stir the pot."
*
Maximus arches his dark brows and lowers his chin. "I was asked to kill you. I made a different /move/." He stares at her for an uncomfortable span. Then he straightens and spreads his hands, "Blame me for things i did, fine. But I will not be blamed for things I. have. not."
*
"Amora, then." Crystal grimaces, not quite able to hold back a roll of her eyes. "There is a woman who will never learn to take responsibility for her own failures."
She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she returns her full attention to her cousin. "If you didn't send them, Maximus, then you failed to stop them. They existed. We've spent the last ten years fleeing. Hiding. Every few months at first, then every year, until we got further away, until we got better at hiding. The assassins came. But they never won."
She takes another step toward the strange machine, as if being any closer will give her any chance of guessing its purpose. "Maximus. If Blackagar returns, will you step aside? Will you truly welcome him home?"
*
Maximus looks back out the window. "I did not send them. But there will always be assassins if you are royal. I have thwarted my own share." He turns his head to look at Crystal and he smiles faintly. "Actually it is pretty easy for me." He seems truly pleasant then, all the years of being King having been a balm on his rampant jealousy and resentment, the entitled…having what he wants. "I did not say I would step aside. I said I would welcome him home." The machine makes faint clicks now and then, but its purpose would be extremely difficult to determine. He has had a lot of resources for a long time. He smiles again though. "This is not the truly grand one. This is a mere protection against weaponry." Maybe an emp of some sort? "I will show Blackagar the /real/ gem." He wets his lips. "What is the message?"
*
Crystal sighs, stepping back from the machine and straightening her spine. This…should be something formal. "Blackagar says that you have until sundown in three days to step down and vacate the throne," she says, voice low without truly losing volume. Somber. "That if you do not, then he will come and you will face him in all of his wrath. With no mercy, no forgiveness, no quarter."
For a moment, she holds his gaze, then looks away to look out over the city of her birth, pained. "I would not see it come to that. Our people deserve better than the damage that would result from such a conflict."
*
"I offer him peace…" Maximus hisses. "And mercy." His voice grows darker. "And he THREATENS ME?!" His voice raises and he moves his arms and begins pacing, causing his coat to billow as he moves. His gestures all become exaggerated. "NO QUARTER?! What is this /threat/?!" He spits out the last word, stopping for a second. He draws his first finger knuckle up to his lips. "You should convince him to be a little /nicer/. I grow tired of this disrespect." He turns slowly to face her. "If he comes with such a brazen, /cold/ attitude, I will use my machine and," he laughs, lips overbroad, "and I really haven't figured out what it does to mutants yet. I was going to work on that, for /your sake/."
*
"I increasingly think I can't convince anyone of anything." Crystal's jaw sets in a hard line when he mentions his machine and what it might do to mutants. "Blackagar isn't going to stop anything for the sake of a few mutants," she says quietly, though there's a bitter undertone to the words. Resentment already in place. "So I'm afraid you'll have to come up with a better threat than that. Maximus, you know the throne rightfully belongs to him. I know you've envied it, I know you've resented him. But you-" Pressing her lips together, she stops to choose her words. "You're not meant to be king, Maximus."
*
"I AM THE KING!!" Maximus shouts, so quickly brought to anger. He strokes his hand through his hair. "He was a boy in a cage! He had to be taught how to even…/sleep/, without killing anyone! /I/ was the one! It always should have been me!" His blue eyes are wild with the dredged up emotion, coupled with lurking madness. He hides it well sometimes. Not right now. "Let. Him. Come. Yessssssss. Let him come and tear all this down and see who supports him." He paces again, then does a little flourish. "I have a battle outfit and everything. It is /magnificent/." A beat. "Like me."
*
Crystal watches him quietly, utterly still as he rages. Her cousin, who she still remembers as an impetuous teenager more than anything else. Whose actions and temper still harken back to that boy. "So be it then," she dips her chin in a somber nod. "I will relay your message back to him." A step back, a sweep of skirts, before she pauses. "I am sorry for what must come."
*
The King turns bitterly towards her, and his eyes are wet. "No, you aren't." he argues, his rage settling, so quickly, but all the adrenaline still has his face red.
*
"I'm sorry for all of this, Maximus," Crystal shakes her head. "For ten years of exile. For your parents. For everything that's happened and for everything that's going to happen. A life here, growing up here, staying here, with our family? Yes. I would have been perfectly happy with that." She takes a deep breath, steeling herself from coming any closer, offering any further comfort. "Three days, Maximus. Please…think on it." Only then does she turn, striding swiftly back toward Lockjaw.
*
Maximus starts to breathe quicker when it looks like she might hug him. Who knows how many hugs Maximus gets…seeing as all his family is exiled and he has trust issues. When she doesn't, and moves away, he remains planted where he is. He looks out the window. The brunette guard says "Stay!" at the blond. "Make sure…nothing." He cuts off the entire order but the other guy seems to understand, and the brunette jogs after Crystal until he has caught up to her stride. "He didn't sentence you to death. I would know. Princess. Please." Actual concern? Maybe.
*
Crystal shoots a look back at the guard, one filled with all of the anger and aggression she can't quite bring to bear on her cousin when he tries to reassure her she wasn't sentenced to death. "Please, what?" she asks. "Do tell me how very lucky I am not to be sentenced to death for delivering an exceptionally uncomfortable message between my cousins. You have approximately thirty seconds until I reach Lockjaw."
*
The guard seems EXCEDINGLY uncomfortable addressing the Princess. He stumbles and stutters over what he's trying to say, "No…I mean…no assassins. I'm just…asking…" He glances back the way they have come, then to her, "There are /issues/." He makes a wince sort of face. "Its not the same as…hate. I. I. think…he misses….everyone?" Not going to win any awards for clarity. "In his own way."
*
Crystal's features soften as the guard explains, though her steps don't slow. "I know," she replies in a low tone. "I know he's…It isn't entirely his fault. But that doesn't change what it is. It doesn't change the last ten years. But it very much says that he shouldn't be ruling the kingdom. It's not what's best for Attilan. No matter how much he may want it to be - and I believe he does want it to be. It's just that wanting isn't always enough."
*
The man straightens, becoming more formal. Any more comment from him and he won't be able to live with himself. Of course in 3 days he might not live at all. He stops when he sees Lockjaw, expression grim. "Princess." he says with the tone of farewell, and dips his head. Grim days ahead!
*
Crystal sets her hand to Lockjaw's shoulder when she reaches him, turning to look back to the guard. "I will speak to Blackagar," she says softly. "Remind him that family is…important. That his brother may still need his help. But I can make no promises. Please, if you care for Maximus…remind him of the same." She steps closer to Lockjaw, her other hand resting on his neck as she nods, before the pair blinks away.
*