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This, Stella decides, is the last time she allows Riven to ‘handle’ things.
She’s nearly late, and her hair’s a mess and she’s not at all dressed for the occasion and also she’s far too hungry for an official royal function but she’s there, and she fans herself with one hand and tries to regulate her breathing. She’s all sweaty and red and gross and she’s about to meet the woman whose fiance she’d thought she was dating for the past couple months and oh stars is she not ready.
Riven had at least had the foresight to book her a private booth at the same restaurant they’d met Icy and her sisters at. Neither the staff nor owners had leaked anything related to the meeting or the company Stella keeps. She can’t imagine that they would betray her confidence - or her father’s cash - for this meeting either, not when she’s meeting another royal. Someone appropriate.
She’s just finished pulling her hair into a high ponytail - look Icy’s a bitch but at least she’s got style - when the booth’s door slides open.
Diaspro of Eraklyon looks just as harried and off-key as Stella feels.
She’s wearing a white-and-burgundy dress cut in the traditional Eraklyon style its nobility favors, cinched tight at the waist with a long train and long sleeves with puffed shoulders. As uninspiring and hideous as the style generally is, Stella will admit that Diaspro at least makes it look good.
But even that cannot hide the creases in her skirt or the frizz to her hair or the chips in her painted nails. Appearances are battle armor for the royalty of the magical dimension; this is Diaspro signaling she is not here to play games.
Just because Stella tries to avoid the politics does not mean she does not understand them - she only bothered to show up, given her own appearance, because she expected Diaspro to be similarly willing.
She knows nothing of Eraklyon’s princess. They’ve never met. Stella doubts they’ve ever attended the same function at any point, too. All she knows is that Brandon seems to think the world of her, and that Sky is at any given time caught between his own resentment of their impending marriage and how little he seems to consider her.
She is impressive to look at, though. Her hands are calloused.
Stella’s own hands are, too, of course. She wields a staff for fuck’s sake, she is a warrior as much as she is a princess - and she’d still had to negotiate and threaten and bribe her father and the royal staff into not magically tearing the callouses away every night.
Eraklyon is so much more proper about appearances - she cannot imagine just how much harder Diaspro has had to fight for even that concession, despite the crystalline blades pressed against her wrists and the flash of metal at the small of her back. She’s a sharp woman, all edge and blades and hardness despite her baby face and bouncing curls.
Stella smiles, and gestures to the seat across from her.
“I don’t like this.” Diaspro says coolly, and closes the booth’s door as she neatly settles into the booth. Stella inclines her head.
“Before we begin, I should ask what you’ve been told.” Stella says. Diaspro scowls ferociously and folds her hands primly in her lap.
“That this was urgent. I have my suspicions as to the rest.”
She smells plasma and space and starlight, and it takes every ounce of self-control Stella possesses to reign in her temper.
Sky hadn’t told her yet.
She splays her hands out on the table between them and leans forward.
“I know I’m like, blunt, but I do have to apologize because you’re going to hate everything I have to say.”
Diaspro’s eyes narrow.
“This is about the boys.”
Her boys, Stella hears unsaid, and - yes.
Good. She already knows they’re idiots.
“I had to call the boys in to help with a situation on Earth a while back, before the school year started. I’d been stranded and attacked and an Earth girl had saved me. With magic. She’s a fairy. Her name is Bloom. At the time, I was under the impression I was seeing Sky. She and who I thought was Brandon hit it off.”
Diaspro’s expression grows cold, but to her credit, she does not interrupt.
“That situation is on me; I should have reached out to you sooner. I sincerely apologize for not doing so. I was in a bad place with my parents’ divorce and was determined not to date around. By the time I finally admitted Brandon and I were seeing each other, he was quick to assure me he’d already spoken to you, and I didn’t want to deal with it so I chose to believe him.”
“You…know. About their - “
“The identity thing? Yes. You have my binding assurances that none of us will blab about that.”
“Why should I believe that? You’re obviously furious with them!”
Stella smiles, coolly.
“Alfea is making moves that will, once the magical dimension knows about them, result in war. Your boys are our allies. And it wasn’t like Brandon was at fault for this. Sky’s too stupid for me to hold it against him, now that Bloom’s told him off.”
If Bloom hadn’t forgiven him, he’d be a fucking crater, politics be damned.
Diaspro does the wise thing in this situation; she smooths the utter bafflement on her face out and throws Stella a disbelieving look.
“And why would an Earth girl be mad about dating a prince?”
“Earth treats infidelity much differently than we do. Bloom’s family has a history with unfaithful partners. We had to talk her down from murder.”
Well, not technically, but it’ll get the point across. Diaspro’s eyebrows raise. She holds up a hand, palm out.
“I need a minute.”
Stella nods, and settles back into her seat. She’s nowhere else to be, and this is a conversation that cannot be rushed, after all.
A light knock sounds; a waitress steps in and politely asks for their orders. Stella orders for both of them - Brandon had told Riven who’d told her what Diaspro might like - and the waitress drops glasses of water and some sort of juice on the table before sweeping off. The door clicks shut, and Diaspro sighs.
“How did you find out?”
“Ah. Well. That brings me to the point you want to pretend I didn’t say.”
Diaspro groans outright, loud and disgusted and improper, and the rigidity in her posture drops. She flings herself back against the booth, and scowls.
“War.”
Stella nods, and similarly lets herself relax.
“Brandon can give you the details; I won’t make you listen to me prattle about it. Eraklyon has a good standing relationship with the Magix Counsel. So does Solaria. We are likely going to be expected to back Alfea when it all comes out. I am already working on ensuring my people know not to. I’m not going to insist you do the same.”
“You’re certain this will come out?” Diaspro asks skeptically. Stella shrugs.
“Mother was sabotaged.”
Diaspro pales.
“Riven’s girlfriend is a witch. She’s friends with Bloom. Bloom asked about…well. How magic works. Alfea doesn’t like her asking questions, and so she went to the next best thing. Darcy and her sisters obliged.”
Stella pulls a black stone from her purse and tosses it carelessly onto their table. She’s practiced this with Musa, before, but reaching outside of herself is still an uncomfortable and awkwardly long process.
Still, when the curse leaves her lips Diaspro’s breath hitches.
“Transform.” The Eraklyon princess demands. Stella rolls her eyes, but obliges.
They sit in silence like that, until their waitress returns and their food is set steaming and fragrant before them. Stella de-transforms once the girl is gone, and Diaspro pulls a face at the dish in front of her.
“Can I do it?”
“Oh, sure. Give me a secure line and we can share notes.” She looks up, eyes hard, and the two engage in a very awkward staring contest before Diaspro finally nods.
“I can’t…I won’t put Eraklyon in danger.”
“Our planets are already in danger, darling. All that’s left for us is to choose our weapons.”
Diaspro’s eyes zero in on her food. Stella takes a bite - excellent, as always - and considers, and then - well.
“I was told that the squad had been…compromised. Saladin’s nephew was inserted among them to resolve some security concerns that had arisen.”
“Oh, no. I think they suspect the boys of knowing about the whole war thing.”
“There’s no need to soothe my ego, Princess Stella. I’m fully aware that Saladin is full of shit. He thought Brandon and Sky would never stoop so low as to bond with Red Fountain’s obligatory charity cases. He saw a chink in their armor and he took it.”
The boys are, of course, stronger than that. Stronger than Saladin gave them credit for. Stronger than Stella’s given them credit for, honestly.
“The wizard won’t be a real problem.”
“How can you say that? He’s a headmaster.”
“Oh, no, not him, dear. His nephew. Helia, I think? The witches have him under control. He’s just. No head for spy work, I’m afraid.”
She doesn’t intend to get quite so - well. Witchy. But Diaspro seems to take it in stride.
“I am sorry. You deserve better.”
It’s the closest Stella can get, will get, to verbalizing the whole - the whole shitshow Diaspro is now stuck with. To go any farther, when she herself is not engaged, would just be an insult.
Diaspro cannot break her engagement. Only Sky has the power to do that, and Stella has to hammer it into his stupid little head that he cannot do that before the complete and utter idiot decides doing so would be a grand romantic gesture capable of winning Bloom back.
Eraklyon values its soldiers, of course. Diaspro, as a fairy, will never be free of her obligations to the homeworld. And for that reason - she will never be allowed to marry off-world. If Sky breaks their engagement, it will forever mark her as tainted, defective, and unwanted. And if Eraklyon’s own prince dismisses her - so to will the rest of the nobility. It isn’t as if being a fairy will ensure her children will be fairies, after all.
Diaspro’s hands flex into fists around her utensils, knuckles going white with the strain. And Stella thinks her heart breaks, just a little.
Because Diaspro clearly does love Sky, beyond the affection she has for him as one of her own. And this is -
“Bloom wants to meet you. I thought that would have been too much to handle.” Stella says when Diaspro makes no move to speak. That earns her a startled look.
“What could she possibly want to meet me for?”
“She’s a bleeding heart. And Riven likes you. She thinks he’s a very good judge of character.” Not that he isn’t, but Stella won’t give him the satisfaction of telling him.
Diaspro pulls a face at that.
“He’s…perceptive.” She allows. Begrudgingly.
Stella smiles.
“I want to get to know you, Diaspro. I hope that isn’t too forward of me.”
She gets two perfectly arched eyebrows in response.
“You are still dating Brandon, Princess Stella. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me than I suspect you’ll like. He’s never had good taste in women.”
And for all it might be an insult - Stella throws her head back and laughs.
They will, she thinks, get along spectacularly.