What do YOU want?

And then, once he is free, Diomedes rises from the chair, and pulls out the Trump of LLewella that Random thankfully secreted on him. He murmurs a word of thanks to his Uncle and then concentrates on the card with all the energy he can muster.

Its time to stop saying No, and start saying Yes.

Sad and beautiful- enough to break your heat. Exotic Rebman beauty blended with fine features that all of Oberon's land-bound daughters have. Delicate, but with hidden reserves. She has known pain. What else does she know?

Llewella stares over her shoulder, either pleading or teasing. If he wasn't a nephew, one could fall into those eyes...

And in point of fact, Diomedes even to an extent has fallen into those eyes, once upon a time.

The trump grows cold.

"Who is it?" she calls softly, gently, still watching over her shoulder.

"Diomedes."

The trump resolves completely. Her dress is different, but every bit as elegant. Its a hybrid between Rebman fashion and Amber style- a concession to the best of both. She sits in a high back chair, perhaps on the end of a gallery. She folds her arms across her chest just under her breasts. Those eyes have narrowed to suspicion and annoyance, but she covers it up fast.

Inwardly, Diomedes sighs. I should have expected this. I should have realized that this was a bad idea.

"Oh."

"This really isn't a good time for me right now," she says briskly, but with a detached politeness. "We'll have to talk some other time."

"I'll trump you, " Llewella reassures him a half smile and a tiny little nod of her head that you'd give a stranger for the sake of showing that you're not unpleasant. She starts to push the trump contact closed.

A mental plea, more for his own benefit than Llewella's. But Llewella can clearly hear it. Its not intentional, but it is there all the same, the naked emotion and need unveiled.

"NO! Please!"

Diomedes immediately follows this with a hand held up in entreaty. He continues the contact in a mental fashion, wary of speaking aloud and drawing attention to his freedom.

*Please, wait, hear me out. And then cut me off if you must, but hear me out first before you do.*

Diomedes continues to hold up his hand, and unless Llewella closes the contact, continues.

Llewella pauses...

"I realize that I made a major mistake and hurt her very deeply." he begins. "In fact, Random and I were together headed to Rebma, each of us to answer and make restitution for our crimes and mistakes, when Julian intercepted us in Arden."

Llewella's eyebrows quirk a little at this declaration. Diomedes has her interest.

The emotions roil in his mind for the daughter of Moins to pick up easily along with the mental words. Fear of being captured again. Shame at his flight a year ago. Regret that he has caused someone he loves pain and anguish. Anger, too, at someone not specified who clearly has something to do with the Shame and Regret. Despair that his father is still imprisoned. Gloom that he will inevitably share his father's fate.

How much of this emotional backwash is actually transferred is unknown, as Llewella chooses to keep up a poker face. Maybe all of it, mayble only some of it.

"I'm a prisoner of Bleys, Fiona and Julian's Cabal and, escaped from my bonds for the moment, I am seeking escape Sanctuary in Rebma."

"Please, Aunt Llewella." The emotion that predominates now is the tiniest bit of hopefulness, combined with the readiness of resignation that Llewella would be indeed within her rights to refuse such aid.

And then, belieing the mental turmoil inside of him, Diomedes calmly regards his Aunt for her response.

"Don't call me Aunt every single time you address me," she replies aloud softly. "Once or twice is fine, but you make me feel old. And while I'm mentioning it; Flora and Deirdre feel the same way but they've been afraid to hurt your feelings."

Diomedes makes a slight face at the mild rebuke but he nods.

"Quickly now, how much danger? Can you hold for a minute?"

*I was tied up and left in this room. I do not know when Bleys or anyone else will return. I am unarmed but I can hold the room for a short while, if absolutely necessary.* There is just the slightest bit of pride in his mental voice.

Right on cue, the heavy wooden door moves slightly in it's frame. "It'll have to wait," a muffled man's voice can be heard through it. "We're to bring the prisoner out where someone can keep an eye on him at all times. They say he's sweet tempered, but he can be tricksy when it suits."

"Let's hope so," Llewella answers Diomedes archly on her end. It's said on the heels of the remark from outside the room that she can not possibly hear. "Coming through right this second wouldn't do either of us much good."

Diomedes winces at the arch tone from Aunt Llewella but doesn't answer. Instead, with the voices, he begins looking about the room.

Llewella rises gracefully to her feet. Diomedes can guess she is in a very visible public place, such as a coliseum, Court, or the theatre. Some place where his teleportation is going to try every eye in the place.

Diomedes can hear the bolt slide a little and stop.

His aunt is walking briskly behind a row of seats along a curved wall. There is a womanly sway to her stride, as circumstances don't exactly allow for her move sedately. Heads turn along this back row of seats as Rebman citizens stare openly, wondering where she is going and in a hurry.

"Side entrance coming up, hang on," Llewella says tersely, though more at the situation than at him now.

"Hang on!" comes the man's voice through the door in Diomedes side of the trump. "It wouldn't due to put this off, e's royal family, you know? Not just some starvin' poacher." There's a pause. "Harry, you can always wait till Woody comes back. Bloody 'ell, he'll give you hand if you just wait a minute."

Dio grabs the chair and with the strength of an Amberite lugs it over toward the inward facing door.

Llewella waves at two guards in scaled trunks standing at engraved door. One steps out of the way respectfully, the other guard reaches to open the door for her and step aside.

The bolt is drawn back from the door on Dio's side.

And Diomedes props the chair against the door. It will not hold long but he doesn't need long. He sends no message to Llewella, however. She is free to see what he is doing and deduce why. But to beg her to hurry would be undignified and unjustified. Her arch words come back to haunt Diomedes.

Llewella looks up and focuses on what is happening on Diomedes' end.
Her green eyes widen in alarm, but she doesn't lose her cool. Instead
she murmurs a most unladylike curse under her breath, and still
manages to make it sound graceful. "Almost there Diomedes," she calls,
reassuring him. She rushes through the doorway.

And so he does not, but he stands ready to help keep the door shut just a little bit longer...and hopefully it will be long enough.


"Hey!" comes the man's voice, and he pushes against the door, rattling
it against where the door is lodged under the handle. "Harry, get over
here! Now! We got ourselves a problem!!"

Diomedes steps back, half watching his handiwork, and half watching LLewella's Progress. Its a race.

Meanwhile, Llewella looks back at the Guards on her side. "No one
comes through either side of this door without my permission.
Understood?" She doesn't wait for a reply, but closes the door.

A fist pounds against the door in Julian's Arden fort. BAM BAM BAM!
"Don't make this harder on yourself!" the guard calls to Diomedes.
"Our orders aren't to do you any harm!"

Diomedes only smiles slightly and shakes his head for the benefit of no
one but himself.

"Here!" Llewella flings out her hand to Diomedes. She pulls him
through in a burst of rainbows. As Diomedes vanishes, the door to the
room he's just left explodes open as the chair slips and is knocked
aside. The last glimpse the Guard sees is his prisoner vanishing in a
prismatic spray of light.

Looking around, Diomedes will recognize the building. He's in the
Royal Palace of Rebma, in a corridor. Llewella was not able to make it
to a private room.

Diomedes exhales a single, large breath that comes out in a large stream of bubbles

Llewella looks him squarely in the face. "Before anything else, the
safety of Rebma first. What do you mean Bleys and Fiona took you
prisoner? Why you of all people? Have things gone that far already?"

Diomedes' expression is grim as he regards LLewella's hard look at him.

"The river of events is flowing faster toward a precipice." Diomedes answers. "We are closer to it than I would have expected only a week ago."

"It is more than partially my own fault that they took me prisoner, A..." Diomedes stops before he completely pronounces the word. Unable to come up with something better, or to just pronounce her name straight, there is an awkward moment of silent from Brand's son before he continues to speak.

"In addition to the tension of factions coalescing around Bleys and Eric, I recently revealed a Secret that Uncle Bleys and Aunt Fiona did not like having publicized. And when Bleys interviewed me following our surrender to Julian, I was not contrite and asking of forgiveness for the perceived betrayal." Diomedes admits.

"And so Bleys decided I had to be kept prisoner. Fortunately, Random's last act before choosing sides was to slip me a going away present. Your Trump."


"Why me?" Llewella wonders aloud, clearly surprised but not overly
demonstrative of it. "Random and I don't really have anything to say
to each other. He hates Rebma, and the feeling is mutual..." Now her
pretty face is plainly perplexed. "And I'm surprised you didn't just
ask for another trump knowing that you wouldn't receive a cheery
reception..."

Her green eyes focus on Diomedes, and then widen. "Unless you weren't
just saying that earlier in order to get me to help you, about coming
here? You were actually telling the truth.."


Diomedes gives a nod of the head, but the movement of her head
precludes him from
saying anything.


Llewella glances at the
door from which she has barred any interruption, and likewise has
barred Diomedes from passing through without her consent.

The Rebman Princess turns back to him. "My last update is weeks old.
Can you tell me what secret was so dire that it would prompt Bleys to
imprison you for revealing it?"


"Well, it was a factor in imprisoning me, along with the factional politics." Diomedes admits. "I don't know what weighs more on his mind, or what is the exact balance of what Bleys considered the worst to come to the conclusion that I was to be imprisoned."

"Still..." Diomedes pauses to collect his thoughts and then continues. "While we met in shadow, in the company of a number of our family, Obi, Eric, and Flora... Miho confessed to a disturbing and unusual problem."

"Although no known card of her exists, Miho felt that someone had attempted to contact herby means of a Trump."

"I was unwilling to let her suffer in this, and so I revealed the Secret, A..." Diomedes fumbles it again.

"Llewella," his aunt says firmly, but then prompts him to continue.

"Llewella." Diomedes finally manages. ""Dworkin is not the only one who can or does or did make Trumps."

He pauses and regards Llewella. "*I* have not proven myself as a suitable candidate to learn the Art, as the descendants of my grandmother sometimes call it, however."

She sucks in a breath, letting it slowly with a shake of her head.

" And of course, it might have been someone else who independently discovered the secret. But I revealed that my branch of the family, at least, has this secret knowledge and potential." Diomedes finishes.

"Now you've leveled the playing field, since we all know." Llewella takes a moment to ponder this revelation.

"The only thing," she muses, "is that seems extraordinarily stupid. To trump someone who doesn't have a trump. And I assume you know they have this ability for a fact?" Llewella frowns. "If it weren't for that no one else can do it, it sounds like a frame up."

Diomedes looks like he is ready to answer that, but he says nothing and does not disturb her chain of of spoken thought.

"Not my problem right now," she concludes, "but thank you." She glances at the door. "Right now, the Queen is holding Court and giving your cousins an audience. And Theano is in gallery..."

Diomedes noticeably winces, and casts down his eyes briefly, in fear, in shame, in a mix of turbulent emotions. He finally looks up at her again.

Llewella gives Diomedes a hard look, but there is some indecision in her eyes as well as irritation. "You embarrassed me. Maybe there was matchmaking happening, but that's to be expected among royal families of differing dynasties. You asked Theano to marry you, not the other way around, and then you took off. On top of what Random did!"

Diomedes winces again.

"And right now, I'm not sure why I feel sorry for you, but I do." Dio's lovely aunt presses her lips together. "Alright, I rescued you from Bleys and Fiona, but beyond that... give me one good reason why I should help you?"

"There are reasons why you should simply feed me to the sharks and be
done with it." Diomedes begins, spreading his hands. "I can't *excuse*
the past, and if my promises and word have truly washed away in your
eyes, then there is nothing that I can say that will convince you."

"But as for reasons for you to help me, there are several for you to
consider." Diomedes continues. He's managed to look Llewella in the
eye at this point.

She waits for him to name them.

"I'll begin with the big one. I meant what I said. I came back to
make amends to you, to Moire, and especially to Theano. I was...given
information by a party whose motivations and reasons are, now, clearly
not as self-serving as he would have had me believe them. They were
enough of a seed of a doubt to cause me to flee, but since then, I've
gotten a hard education in the consequences of trusting the world of
my elders too blindly."

Llewella listens carefully, betraying nothing but her interest.

"Further, I have more information, important information beyond the
Secret, information that affects our entire Family. "and I'd wager,
Rebma as well, for the ties to Amber's fate and Rebma's are tightly
knit. And...I may have news that will interest Rebma alone.
Specifically." He pauses a beat and lets out a stream of bubbles. "The
Seer's Guild."

His aunt's eyes widen. "How could you know? And you're the only they-"
She catches herself.


Diomedes doesn't show his recognition of her reaction but continues.


"Last and most important, and I mean it in all of the Rebman
implications." Diomedes pauses.

"I am willing to offer my hands to Rebma now." Diomedes finishes.

Llewella gives him a piercing look and holds it for a few heartbeats.
She looks away then and thinks for a few heartbeats more.

"Come on," she says at last in a huskier tone of voice, a course of
action now decided. "Before we're too late." She strides back over to
the door and raps on it soundly with knuckles and calls out her
identity to the Guards on the other side. Then she turns around and
places a hand against Diomedes' cheek, and that hard look finally
melts away to something more like.. compassion. But the moment doesn't
last long as Llewella turns to rap on the door again, urging the Guard
to hurry.

"If our earlier conversation holds true, the Queen has plans to
complicate Drake's life for his misdeeds.. and in so doing she's going
to absolutely *ruin* yours."


A slight widening of his eyes suggests that Diomedes has an inkling of
what LLewella means, and what the Queen might do. He gives a grazing
nod of the head


The door opens and the Rebman Princess orders the Royal Guard to step
aside and let Diomedes pass into the Throne Room.


And Diomedes does not hesitate as he precedes Llewella into the waiting room...