#it takes way more dia to spark than the patience i have to save on this account

[dvrthncx]

Facing the Past

(**spoilers** for end of Jedi Knight storyline)

The air in the Emperor’s throne room felt thick--heavier than foggy mornings on Dromund Kaas, and stickier. It seemed to Nevar’ija that she was breathing in the Dark Side, inhaling its poisons into her lungs and unwillingly fuelling herself with those sickly sweet odours given off by the blue-flamed pyres. It smelled like her youth: achingly familiar and ruinously hateful.

“The circle closes. The end beings,” the Emperor said when the Jedi reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to his throne, his voice echoing sinisterly across the expansive chamber. It gave the impression that he was omnipresent, that he might even reside within Nevar’ija’s very soul. She pushed back against that disturbing thought vehemently. The Emperor did not--would not--possess her. Not again.

He stood up; his body was slight, thin--would have looked frail if he were anyone else, but the sheer power and greedy hatred emanating from that thin frame dissipated any sense of weakness; one could simply not be such a force of power and be considered frail. He slowly stalked to the edge of the dias, as though he were time itself and knew he could use as much of it as he wanted. Looking down at Nevar’ija he said, “You dissipated your energy saving the weak. There are consequences.” Nevar’ija drew her lightsaber out in an instant, ready to fend off an attack, her eyes never leaving the Emperor’s glowing red body--it seemed almost ghost-like, evanescant as a result of the black smoke twining itself almost lovingly around that small figure; but she knew better. She knew that was neither death nor temporality, but the proof of the Emperor’s eternity, his constancy.

The Emperor reached out with his greedy fingers and Nevar’ija angled her lightsaber towards him, but rather than shooting lightnight at her, he raised spikes of purple lightning from the stone floor in a semi-circle around Nevar’ija and T7. 

Out of the dark purple smoke and crackling lightning many Emperors glowing red and encased in tendrils of black smoke emerged. Nevar’ija felt them through the Force before she saw them--better than she saw them. They were more substantial in the Force, more real than what her eyes saw. They were the Force. But she was also sure thay they could hurt her. She spun on her heel and brought her lightsaber down on the closest Force-entity. It vanished with a burst of bright purple smoke upon contact. The others had moved in to surround her, blinding her with flashes of purple light and filling the air with silky, serpentine tendrils of dark Force energy. She couldn’t see. She struck out with her saber, feeling her way through the writhing, swaying Force as though wading through deep, murky water--lost, afraid, desperate.

Less through skill than through sheer panic, Nevar’ija managed to eliminate all five of the Force-entities. They and their black and purple fog disappeared and revealed the Emperor, who had descended the steps and stoped in front of Nevar’ija. She turned on him, lightsaber out, a furious growl in her throat. She could not forget that the last time she had been subjected to this concentration of Dark Side energy, her mind had been taken from her and she forced to commit terrible acts--acts from which she had fled when she left the Empire and sought out the mercy of the Jedi. It would not happen again--she could not allow it. 

Perhaps she was imagining things, but she thought she almost saw the Emperor smirk in that instant--just for the briefest of moments. Burning rage and shame pooled in her heart, boiling, uncontrollable. 

The Emperor, still standing weaponless and staring down Nevar’ija’s lightsaber at her scowl, merely said, “My life spans millenia. Legions have risen to test me.” For a being of pure hatred, the calm and collected confidence he maintainted was unsettling, aggrivating to Nevar’ija--all the moreso as she struggled to contain her own rage.

He was goading Nevar’ija, and she knew it. But the hatred she felt within her for the Emperor, for his Empire, for everything they stood for in the galaxy and to her personally steadily gained control of her. She wanted him dead. She needed him dead. “You’re a threat to every living being in the galaxy. If you won’t surrender, I will destroy you,” she all but growled, pushing her lightsaber closer to his face.

“You discern a fraction of reality,” said the Emperor condescendingly. “Beyond these stars exist other galaxies, other worlds, other beings. I will experience or ignore them as I wish. I will spend eternity becoming everything: a farmer, an artist, a simple man. When the last thing in the universe finally dies, I will enjoy peace and wait for the cycle to begin again.”

“You will never possess that kind of power.” Nevar’ija could hear the shaking desperation in her own voice, how violently it clashed with the self assured, blasé tone of the Emperor’s assertions. Her every emotion swelled with each moment she faced the Emperor, inhaling his poisonous black soul. She could feel them starting to spiral out of control. Oh, but she hated him. And all she could think was that if she could just kill him, her negative emotions--her hatred, her pain, her sorrow, her self-doubt, her confusion, the sense that she was lost--would all die too. In saving the galaxy she would save herself and vice versa. All she had to do was squeeze the life out of the Emperor with her bare hands. 

Her legs trembled beneath her. Fear. 

But who was she afraid of? The Emperor? Myself?

She wasn’t so sure that the two were very different in that moment. 

As if the Emperor could hear her thoughts, he said: “There is no death, there is only the Force and I am its master. My ascendence is inevitable. A day, a year, a millenium--it matters not. I hold the patience of stone and the will of stars. Your striving is insignificant. Let your death be the same.” 

He suddenly drew his lightsaber and lunged at Nevar’ija. She blocked his attack and threw herself into action with a fierce and explosive energy the likes of which she had never experienced before. All the emotions, the tension, the fear which had been building up from the moment she stepped foot in the throne room released suddenly and from them sprung a savage sort of force that took control of the jedi and seemed to move for her rather than with her. She could feel that she was not in control, but she felt liberated, relieved, powerful.

The Emperor chuckled when she landed her first blow on his arm after a relentless offensive. “You’ve grown reckless since we last met,” he drawled antagonistically.

Nevar’ija snarled like a wild beast and lunged again. “I’ve only grown stronger!”

“No... but your emotions have,” the Emperor said, almost pensively, as he dodged Nevar’ija’s attack and Force-pushed her back across the room. “You must use your fear and your anger to your advantage. Release them!”

His insinuation infuriated Nevar’ija. With a burst like a hot flame she launched herself at him, almost blinded by red tears of rage. She felt certain her blow would land, that she would have the satisfying sensation of impact: lightsaber cutting through skin, sawing the hateful creature in half. With a violent, shattering crash her lightsaber clashed with the emperor’s. The impact was so hard that Nevar’ija’s arms went numb. Shouting in frustration, Nevar’ija withdrew her lightsaber and let loose another flurry of attacks, propelled by dark Force energy that pounded through her blood with every beat of her adrenaline-soaked heart. It was intoxicating, the power that pure hatred had ignited within her. Far from trying to gain control, she drank it willingly and abundantly, let it drive her to savage and aggressive attacks in her desperate campaign to pierce the emperor’s flesh with her blade, to feel muscle tissue and bone yield to her thrust. Almost screaming in rage, Nevar’ija Force-jumped, shooting downward with her saber out to strike to killing blow--

It was as though she landed on a stone wall. A burst of the Force stopped her mid-leap and threw her back across the room. Nevar’ija slammed into the far wall and landed with a painful thud. Her entire left side would be bruised for weeks. For just a few seconds she lay there, stunned, overwhelmed by shock and stinging pain. The fall had jarred her, snuffed out the flame of writhing, bestial power that had burned in her chest. She opened her eyes slowly and her gaze fell on T7 who had rolled up to her and beeped worriedly. The Jedi was suddenly reminded of the quiet mountain forests of Tython, the place where she had first met T7, with its tumbling waterfalls and bubbling creeks. She remembered the sound of Master Orgus’ voice, and the fresh sense of peace and safety that had come with the perfume of the whispering pines on the breeze. There is no emotion, there is peace. She shivered slightly as a calm, cool energy caressed her aching body and soothed her weeping heart. 

“You can do better than that,” the Emperor’s voice wormed its way into Nevar’ija’s hazy recollections, drawing her back into the dark and foreboding chamber of reality on Dromund Kaas. “You Sith purebloods have a natural propensity for dark passion; don’t try so hard, just let nature do it’s work.”

Nevar’ija pushed herself up slowly, resting a reassuring hand on T7′s head. “There is no passion,” she said, drawing her fallen lightsaber to her with the Force and reigniting it. “There is serenity.”

The emperor scowled. “Foolish child! You think you can deny your nature forever and hide behind your precious Jedi teachings? I will show you the true meaning of power,” he spat. In a burst of purple lightning and smoke, he appeared to multiply. At least ten emperors, all glowing red and crackling with purple sparks, leered at Nevar’ija through the haze. Taking a deep, steadying breath the jedi raised her lightsaber. “There is not emotion, there is peace,” she chanted, as though reminding herself one final time, and in the split second before the force-entities lunged at her she thought she could feel Master Orgus’ approval radiating through the Force. Nevar’ija clung to that sensation as though to a life-line, and this time when she entered the boggy swamp of Dark Side energy she did not panic; did not lose her way; did not relinquish control. She fought with the Force, not through it: methodic, controlled, infallible. Until all the force-entities had disappeared, and her saber struck flesh and bone, sliced through the emperor’s lower abdomen, brought him to his knees.

The jedi stood over the emperor, silent, weapon drawn. The end was near, at long last.

The emperor, clutching his side, looked up at Nevar’ija with a frown. He no longer glowed red, swathed in the twisting cape of Dark energy; instead he wore his corruption naked upon his body: skin so pale it was almost purple, wrinkled and loose from an eternity of life-devouring evil, and eyes sunk deep in their sockets, glowing blood-orange out of the obscurity. “You harness immense power--but you lack the purity of will to direct it,” he wheezed in a voice that, though it did not carry into the depths of Nevar’ija’s soul, remained saturated with power nonetheless.

Nevar’ija said nothing. She felt a ripple in the force just seconds before the emperor raised his hands and she lifted her lightsaber to block the stream of white-hot Force lightning that the emperor shot at her.

Even as the emperor rallied himself through the Force and stood up, the jedi firmly held her ground, lightsaber absorbing the devastating energy.

The emperor pushed forward, and Nevar’ija pushed back until they were running at one another, drawing on the Force. The clash was inevitable, and only one would rise from its devastating blow this time. Nevar’ija could feel her saber vibrating from the lightning’s energy, could feel the tension in the chamber as the Dark and the Light pushed on each other from opposing sides, meeting in the middle in a violently bright explosion. She could feel the raw power of the Dark Side, of the emperor: it was indescribably strong, but it was wild, uncontrollable. Even the emperor could lose his grip--was losing his grip. With a shock, Nevar’ija realised that her control and trust in the Light was a threatening match for the emperor’s dark power--and he knew it too. It was beginning to destabilize him, making him desperate. 

They were close now, just seconds apart. The emperor was going to kill her; she knew it. She could feel his intentions. She would only have the slightest of opportunities to stop him, the briefest moment to break the connection and his path of destruction. Rallying her strength in the Force, the jedi breathed deeply until the Force flowed within her, became One with her. Time seemed to slow down. When the emperor was mere centimeters away from the blade of her lightsaber Nevar’ija knew instinctually that the moment had come. Guided by the gentle, sure hand of the Force she broke her defensive position and with it the stream of lightning connecting herself to the emperor. In one smooth movement, she swung her saber over her head and, with a controlled twist, landed a carefully planned blow and cut clean through the emperor’s thighs. 

He fell with a moan, landing face-down on the cold stone floor of his throne room. Assured that the mutilated creature on the floor was no longer a threat, Nevar’ija lowered her lightsaber and slowly approached, standing over the living corpse with a scowl of disgust.

 The emperor struggled to raise his head and her chest with weakened arms. “I will not be contained, I cannot be redeemed,” he said, his voice low, threatening, even in his obviously pitiful state. “Death is all that remains, and you will not kill me.”

A thrill of defiance shot through Nevar’ija at the words: the emperor thought he knew her so well, thought he could read her soul and intentions so easily? She would prove him wrong, just as she always had. She stalked forward, towering over the meager, pathetic creature on the ground. You think I won’t kill you? Just watch me, she thought. He was the spitting image of everything that she hated--the perfect representation of a time, a life, she had come to look upon with the severest resentment. Gazing down at him, hate rose in her once more, smouldering in the pit of her stomach. In him she saw her childhood, the world she had come from, the culture that had made her. She saw the death, the rage, the mistrust; she felt the blood, the betrayal, the fear. Her bitter hatred urged her, begged her to end him, to slaughter the creator of everything she resented so ardently--and in so doing, to slaughter also that part of her she hated: the part of her that belonged to and was born of that hateful world. She could eliminate her shame, and oh! how she wanted to. 

In that moment, the emperor turned his face up and his gaze caught Nevar’ija’s as she imagined striking the death blow--imagined the vengeful satisfaction of the act. He smiled. It was a smug, triumphant, ugly smile. Nevar’ija faltered, struck suddenly by the futility of revenge, the emptiness of the act, of which the emperor’s triumphant grin suddenly made her aware. She felt as though someone had knocked the breath out of her with that realisatio; the realisation that if she took revenge, if in the thrawls of her hatred she struck down the very personification of that hatred, she would have nullified everything she had worked so hard for since the moment she’d fled Korriban with Rijalu and escaped to Tython. Everything: worthless. Her life: wasted. It would be a betrayal of the person she had sought so desperately to become and the very values she had spent years championing throughout the galaxy. She would, in essence, become the very thing she hated most in striking a vengeful blow against that which she hated most. 

Master Orgus’ voice came to her, then: a memory, though vivid through the Force. “You must let go of hate, my young padawan. You cannot hope to become the person you want to be, if you insist on clinging to the pain of you used to be,” he had told her once--was telling her again. 

Closing her eyes, Nevar’ija inhaled, long, heavy, until she could not inhale anymore and her lungs burned. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. This is it, she thought. I will let go of my hatred and I will finally be free. No more sorrow; no more hate; no more fear; no more shame. Exhaling slowly, intentionally, she released her hatred and resentment, her rage and vengeance on her breath. 

Opening her eyes, she felt light, felt truly secure in herself for the first time. She knew who she was, and where she belonged. I am a Jedi, she thought.

And outloud to the emperor she said: “You’re right. I don’t want to kill you--but you will face justice for your crimes. That is the Jedi way.” In so saying, she turned her lightsaber off and sheathed it.

The emperor’s triumphant grin melted into a disgusted frown. “There is no justice. There is only revenge. I will not be your trophy. If I must die, I choose how--and everything dies with me.” In a flash of purple, his body dissappeared. Nevar’ija could no longer feel his presence in the Force, but neither did she feel a significant enough shift in the Force to mean that he was really dead. Whatever had happened, she did not think he had let himself die, but he was unquestionably gone. 

T7 whistled and beeped enthusiastically. 

“Yep, it’s finally over...” Nevar’ija replied pensively, her brain still trying to process what she had just done. Shaking herself to try and get a grip on reality, she said, “Let’s get us all back to Republic space, T7.”

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Love Potion Extravaganza Ch. 1

Note: So first off, thank you @missnobodynobodius for commiserating with me about matching EoA with Crazy Ex Girlfriend songs and hearing this ridiculous story when it was a mere wish. Thank you, @shasta627 for helping me match some of the songs and which ones to cut. And thank you @pizzansunshine for helping me for agreeing to edit this monster. Now this story, if you can’t tell by the title, it has ships. So many ships and love. There’s Eleteo, there’s Manualtina, there’s Gabelena, there’s Estoma, there’s Alonsonaomi, there’s Gabela, one sided Gababel, there’s LuisaxFrancisco, there’s Gabenaomi! Unfortunately I couldn’t figure out how to add Estenaomi without adding young Esteban to the chaos😢 But even the Delgados get a turn. So yeah. Many many ships. Slightly suggestive themes. Think P-13. So I hope you enjoy this with its love and lust misadventures here. 🤗🥰😉

And to add here are the two songs I put in the chapter, if you want to listen along to it. West Covina reprise II https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=q8XuQbzoFss and Horny Angry Tango. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=x_rAmAYE-8I. Enjoy!

Elena knocked eagerly upon the workshop of her royal wizard who opened it with a teasing smile.

“You are really excited for this interkingdom alliance aren’t you?” With intentional slowness, Mateo lazily leaned against his door, noting her excited smile and eyes sparking with impatience at his not-quick-enough casualness.

“Yes I’m excited that Avalor is arranging the alliance between Cordoba and Paraiso, it’s an honor and that. But I really, really can’t wait for you to finally meet Alonso and Valentina!”

Elena’s quick eyes saw that Mateo wasn’t engaged in any particular task, evidenced by the tamborita stuck safely on his belt. He was just being slow to tease her! Well she took advantage of his smirking at her to grab his hand to break into an run towards the breakfast table.

“Considering the stories I’ve heard about them, should I be worried?” Mateo called out, stumbling a little at the brisk run bringing Elena to a pause.

“They’ve gotten better...ish. Well I feel like they have matured over the last few visits and with you there, I think it will be easier to deal with them. You’re just very patient with-” Elena paused and turned away to hide her blush.

Lately she had been feeling emotions towards Mateo that were a bit stronger than those she had towards Naomi and Gabe. They were all her friends but something with Mateo ran deeper. She appreciated his traits a bit more. His patience, his steadfastness, his trust, his compassion, how he always knew just the right words to say, how he was so modest but courageous at the same time. When he displayed his confidence, he didn’t act like obnoxious jerk but it was so endearing because underneath it all he was still sweet adorkable Mateo. And then his eyes....

There she went, thinking all about Mateo’s admirable traits. The list had been getting longer and she had been getting more flustered. Whenever she was in presence she had this urge to stand next to him, maybe even nuzzle the crook of his neck. He had such a warm body. That was one of the first things she had noticed when she hugged him during Navidad. She wanted to melt against him and he smelled of gingerbread too!

Elena stop this. He’s your friend. F-R-I-E-N-D Friend!

And now she kept blurting out small words about how much she cared for him. When she wasn’t even sure he liked her. Surely someone as expressive as he would have given some sign that he was interested.

Mateo looked at her questioningly, a light pink blush creeping up his neck.

“You’re so patient. Plus you’re a wizard. Your spells always save the day,” Elena finished lamely, hoping that she hadn’t revealed her attraction for him.  

“Uh yeah of course thanks!” Mateo stammered, willing the flush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks to go away. .

Keep calm. She’s just being her usual sweet self.

Mateo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, glancing at Elena’s long raven hair. It was so shiny and smooth like if the nighttime sky had become a river of hair that smelled like strawberries. Mateo sighed. He was hopelessly desperately in love with the crown princess who was totally out of his league and he just couldn’t shake off his crush.

He suppose it had started sometime around the aftermath of Fiero’s first attack. The way she encouraged him to take up his grandfather’s mantle was so precious to him. She had been the only one who showed such trust and belief in his magic skills. Ever! His mother cared for his skills, yes, but that was only after Shuriki’s return and even then she didn’t know enough to get too involved with his studies. The rest of Avalor, ha. They didn’t know the difference between a wizard or a malvago. But Elena. After she had gotten out of the amulet, she shared such confidence in his skills, he didn’t want to do anything to disappoint her.

He had thought that was normal. Some friendly devotion between princess and royal wizard, between friends. But then he began noticing Elena even more. The way her optimism lit up whatever room she was in. How endlessly creative she was when it came to fixing problems and new ideas. Her devotion to her people and kingdom. How she always believed in the best of everyone. Her strength after everything she had gone through. She was not cynical, she was not bitter, she strived to do her best all the time.

The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to get to know her. He learned a little on Dia de Los Muertos two years ago when she told him about the dark prophecy. He learned some of her fears and her weaknesses and that only fueled his desire to help her. If she felt sad, he wanted to comfort her, if she felt weak, he wanted to be the one she could lean on. He said it as much when they went to Vallestrella, “I’ll always be here for you, Elena. No matter what.”

He would have to be crazy not to notice her gorgeous looks too. Her kind, enthusiastic face whose smile was like the sun, her bright eyes... he could go on and on.

But he knew it was useless. He was not a noble, he was not incredibly suave or handsome. He was just her friend. He knew she deserved someone who always went above and beyond. Someone who would help bring her kingdom prosperity and her happiness. He knew he wouldn’t be able to live up to the title of king. If she even had feelings for him which was doubtful. She could have anyone she wanted. Sometimes though, when she teamed up with him during missions or when she gave him a special gift that showed she was thinking about him or now, when she said how she appreciated him- a little spark of hope would burst inside. Maybe she could like him. But then all his doubts returned to remind him how fantastical that belief was.

The two entered the breakfast table where the cook had arranged several large platters of desserts. To suit Francisco’s enormous appetite no doubt, but Elena realized it was a bit much even for her abuelo. Plus there was an inordinate number of roses strewn on places on the table that were not covered by platters.

“The cook does know that Prince Alonso and Princess Valentina aren’t arriving until lunchtime right?” Mateo questioned.

“Oh no, it’s just for us.” The two teens spotted Luisa’s hand waving behind a cake resting at the front of the table.

The two went to the head of the table, inhaling scents of fresh tres leches, campechanas, pan dulces, cherries, empanadas, all sorts of sweet treats to the sight of Luisa sitting contentedly on Francisco’s lap and hand feeding him a cherry.

“What’s with all the food?” Elena asked, but the abuelos seemed to have forgotten her presence and were rubbing noses.

“Guys.” Elena cleared her throat. No notice. Elena coughed pointedly again. Nothing. “Abuela. Abuelo? “

No response. Elena exchanged a glance with Mateo, his perplexed expression mirroring hers down to the identical raised eyebrow. Elena turned back to her grandparents, squaring her shoulders and used her best commanding tone, “Francisco Flores and Luisa Flores please give your attention to me. Now.”

Luisa and Francisco jolted a little at Elena’s queenly voice and looked at her confusedly as if they had never seen her before.

“Is there something you want, dear?” Luisa said distractedly, brushing some crumbs off her husband’s mustache.

“I’m- We’re wondering what is with all the food?” Elena repeated her question.

Francisco proudly straightened in his seat, “This was all my idea. I wanted to show mi amor just how sweet she is with all of this” He gestured grandly at the table, “And we could feed each other all day just like at our honeymoon.”

“Oh Francisco, you’re such a romantic.” Luisa gave him a long, deep kiss. It could have been for 7 seconds but it was long enough for Elena and Mateo to feel uncomfortable so Elena coughed again.

“Can we have any of the food?”

“Sure sure.” Francisco waved his hand dismissively at them, gazing lovingly at Luisa while she whispered in her ear with a devilish smirk.

Elena and Mateo shrugged at each other and took a seat at the other end of the table. “Is it their anniversary?” Mateo asked with another look at the elderly couple who were engaged in another, more passionate liplock.

“No. Usually Abuelo wakes us all up by serenading Abuela in the morning. I should know, I never am able to sleep through it. I guess they’re just in a romantic mood.” Elena answered, a subconscious smile playing about her lips as she looked at her grandparents.

Mateo smiled upon seeing her smile. It was truly one of the most beautiful things in his world. “It’s nice that they are so in love with each other after all these years.”

With a dreamy tone, almost as if she was talking to herself, or confiding a secret to someone Elena replied, “I hope I have that someday too.”

“Me too.” Mateo agreed, lapsing into silence. He wished to say more, but at the same time he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to describe his perfect girl, and how it matched her description. But he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with her. No, it would be too much to bear if he made her uncomfortable.

The moment passed and Elena turned to focus her full attention on Mateo.

“Back to the alliance that will happen. I think you’ll hit it off with Valentina. The two of you can talk about wizardry all day long. Since she’s a beginner, maybe you can teach her a thing or two. You are a really good teacher.”

“Yeah, after letting Olivia bring a water spirit to life, I think I have some work to do.” Mateo chuckled self-deprecatingly.

“Don’t say that. You’re a great teacher. Without you I wouldn’t have mastered my scepter so fast or be able to do the invisibility spell.” Elena smiled, grabbing his hand to give a firm shake. Elena managed to keep her smile even though she wanted to gasp at the slight brush of electricity she felt from the touch of his hand that grazed up and down her spine in delightful little chills.

“When are they arriving again?” Mateo managed to squawk, in spite of the  the sudden dryness in his mouth thanks to the soft touch of Elena’s hands tightly wound with his own.

“Princess Valentina and her guard arrived yesterday and are staying at Avalor’s finest resort. 5 stars. With a jacuzzi obviously. We would have let her room here but some of the palace staff haven’t gotten over her last visit.” Elena said and Mateo laughed a little, remembering Elena’s story of Valentina’s obnoxious bragging.

“Prince Alonso will be arriving sometime before-”

“Guitar!” Francisco’s voice called from the other side of the table which the servant brought up quickly.

Without any prelude, Francisco and Luisa sang in unison, “It’s not just a coincidence, it isn’t just by chance. It’s logical. It’s obvious. It all makes perfect sense. And I’m just so happy that you’re here.” Ending with Francisco dropping his guitar with a clang and sweeping Luisa more into his lap in a passionate kiss.

“They are really in love today.” Mateo commented, surprised how they could keep kissing without coming up for air.

“This is kind of strange. They’ve never acted this way before-” Elena was about to go on when the breakfast door banged open and Julio Guzman rushed to Elena’s side.

“Julio, what’s wrong?” Elena put a calming hand on Julio’s shoulder seeing the young man’s annoyed expression.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfast princesa, but I came here early to discuss the possible trade opportunities for the alliance with Chancellor Esteban. It’s just-” Julio groaned showing his frustration, “He and Doña are fighting. Again! I try not to bring her to the meetings but Esteban insists I do because I don’t quite understand all the trade lingo yet. But whenever I do, they start fighting and ignoring me. They don’t even know I’m there and I can’t get a word in edgewise.”

Elena winced in sympathy. Whenever those two started one of their infamous fights, no one stood in their way and nothing could distract them from battling each other. Julio had confided his frustrations at being ignored before at meetings where he was supposed to be in charge before, but clearly her lectures hadn’t gone through to them.

“Um Abuela?” Elena called over to the other side of the table where she was met with annoyed glares from her grandparents for interrupting their romantic rendezvous.

“Esteban and Doña haven’t listened to me about not fighting during trade deals. Maybe... You can get through to them.”

Luisa sighed as if her request was just another chore in a very busy day but her smile brightened again when Francisco kissed her temple, promising, “Go help them. I’ll prepare some songs to serenade you by.”

Luisa gave a girly giggle and whispered something else into Francisco’s ear which he returned with an eyebrow wiggle, making Elena uncomfortable in a whole new way. She knew they were in love but...

What was more weird was Luisa’s reaction. She had never been so visibly annoyed before. She always had been so willing to drop all other tasks when it came to helping others. Except alone time with Francisco apparently.

Luisa quickly paced out to the hallway, calling after the younger adults who were staring at her in surprise and confusion, “Come on. I want to get this over quickly. Chop chop.”

The three jumped up and followed her in an obedient line, as they approached the Grand Council room, they could already hear voices raised. In angry song.

“I’m clearly not over you yet.”

“I’m clearly not over you either.”

Luisa opened the door to the almost familiar scene of Esteban and Doña Paloma, glaring nose to nose, circling each other. Eyes blazing with fury and pride.  

“Our love has transformed into hate.”

“This is how left them.” Julio sighed.

To Elena and Mateo’s surprise instead of the usual insults, Esteban twirled Doña around, gripping her tightly so they would be back to back, singing,“Damn! Sex right now would sure be great.”

“What?” Elena was so shocked by that declaration she couldn’t manage a proper screech of surprise but a strangled whisper. Not that the two dueling adults would have noticed, their eyes were locked with each other as they performed a rather intricate tango.

“This is our horny angry tango!

I want to fight!

I want to bang!

This is our horny angry tango!

We’re truly furious but...

Dang! We’re also horny too!”

Mateo went white as he listened to the lyrics of the song, unsure of where he should look. He hoped that Elena didn’t see him glance at her to gauge her reaction and misinterpret it for something more..well horny.

“Excuse me. Is that anyway to talk with guests and children present.” Luisa interrupted, tapping her foot impatiently. Elena squawked at her abuela’s word choice and Mateo put a comforting hand on her shoulder, sharing a look that mimicked her outrage at being referred to as children.

Esteban and Doña glanced at them in the doorway and quickly pushed away from each other as if they were on fire.

“Sorry so sorry abuela.” Esteban gulped nervously, wiping some sweat from his forehead.  

“We didn’t mean to- were we too loud?” Doña panted heavily, undoing her bun, “Just these trade deals are a bit hard to get through with all this heat--Will someone open a window?”

“It’s not surprising that it’s so hot. You do expel a lot of hot air.” Esteban commented snarkily as he took off his coat.

“My “hot air” is minor compared to your justifications that somehow we can afford to offer free port rights to Paraiso with nothing in return. Such a royal way of thinking.” Doña shot back, flinging her coat at him.

Esteban growled, shrugging off his blazer to pull her towards him with a smolder in his eyes, “I want to tear you limb from limb!’

Doña gripped Esteban’s hair and slid her leg up against his thigh, “And put your limbs all over my limbs!”

Esteban took advantage to her dip her several times, “Each time we fight I crave you more!”

He almost dropped her from that position when she ripped open his shirt to suggestively lick at his chest,“This would be better on the floor!”

At those words Elena turned around to rush out the door. It was bad enough that her abuelos were all lovey during breakfast but this was a scene that she did not want to witness! Her hands clapped firmly over her eyes, she bumped into the wall instead. Her head pounded but still very able to hear, “This is our horizontal tango!

We’re both pissed off...

And yet turned on!”

Mateo helped her stand up, keeping his eyes firmly transfixed to the floor. However curiosity of what the formerly appearance/reputation-conscientious Chancellor and lady were doing won over him. He flicked his eyes up to see Esteban and Doña’s new position. Writhing on the Grand Council Table. He was never going to see it the same way again.

“This is our horizontal, horny, angry tango!

Now it’s time for six bar long- classic tango dance break.”

Thankfully the adults got up from the table to execute a tango dance break, giving Elena time to wonder why her abuela was not looking so shocked. Esteban and Doña Paloma? They were rivals. They fought all the time. There couldn’t be any secret feelings between them. And if they had feelings, they wouldn’t do this. They wouldn’t be writhing around on the Grand Council Table in front of––everyone!

She looked at Mateo, knowing that he would know what she was thinking. Her abuelos kisses at breakfast, her cousin’s horny angry tango. Something was going on and they had to get to the bottom of it.

Before Mateo could nod back at her they were distracted by a resounding slap. They looked back to see Esteban sporting a bright red handprint on his cheek and an annoyed glare at the women who was in his arms. Sighing he sang, “I cannot slap you back, because you are a lady.”

Doña pursed her lips, “That clearly is a double standard. But it’s probably for the best.”

The two dipped one more time and were back face to face, “This is our horny angry tango!”

Pressed against each other, panting heavily, the room was silent as everyone waited for what would happen next.

Elena privately mused that this was the most disheveled she had seen her cousin and the former Magister. Hair was plastered to faces that were slicked with sweat, their eyes seemed glassy yet they were focused on not breaking the other’s stare.

“I can’t stand this.” Esteban said in a low husky tone filled with a hunger that Elena had never heard from him before, which made her a bit nervous about what he would do next.

The tension in the room was palpable and Elena desperately wanted to grab Mateo’s hand. She couldn’t stand thick tension like this, she needed action now or she was going to break in and try to switch the subject to-

In one sweeping move, Esteban pushed all the paperwork that had been piled neatly at the edge of the Grand Council Table onto the floor, scattering the white sheets everywhere.

“I must have you.” Esteban declared, pressing a series of urgent kisses on Doña’s neck and lips as he pushed her down against the table. As Doña arched back, breathlessly moaning in response, Elena turned to leave again, pulling Mateo behind her.

The action seemed to snap Luisa to her senses. Clapping her hands between them, she brought everyone’s attention to herself, and stopped Elena from starting her flight to safer quarters.

Esteban and Doña reluctantly broke apart and seemed surprised at the presence of other people in the room.

“Julio, when did you get here?” Esteban asked with genuine confusion.

“I’ve been here the whole time!” Julio cried, crossing his arms, grumbling unintelligible curses to himself.

“Nevermind him.” Luisa interrupted, “You, Esteban Flores, you have your very own room for privacy purposes like this. You should know better.”

“Um..That wasn’t the issue we came here for.” Mateo pointed out, “Also don’t you think this is a bit strange. Most business meetings don’t entail...tangos.”

Luisa sighed, putting her hands on her hips, “I can’t change whatever sexual tension there is simmering between them. Moreover I don’t care. Let’s get this resolved as quickly as possible, I need to go back to my beloved querido...” She paused. Next to her Esteban and Doña had gotten bored of the conversation and were passionately kissing, and whispering scandalous propositions to one another.

“They’re like horny teenagers?” Elena wrinkled her nose.

“Well they did say horny angry tango not chaste angry tango. I guessed we should expect this.” Mateo said.

“Hmm you’ve always said you were going to have begging your name..How will you ever accomplish that?” Doña murmured kissing his jawline, rubbing herself tantalizing against his chest.

“This is true.” Esteban’s breath hitched as his hand slipped underneath his dress, “And my dear, with my lips between your-.”

“Esteban! Please be discreet!” Elena cried, wishing for all the word that the past morning could be erased from her memories.

“Oh Elena, we Flores do not know the meaning of that word.” Esteban rolled his eyes as if he found her request to be incredibly naive.

Luisa grabbed Esteban’s ear like she used to do when he was a boy, “That’s enough of that. Here’s what we’ll do. Esteban and Doña please stay in Esteban’s room, Elena and Mateo greet the ambassadors and Julio... go back to Angelica’s. That settled? Good.”

Luisa strode out of the room with the confidence of a woman who could get things done. Elena turned to Julio, “I’m sorry, Julio. I think you better do what my abuela says for now. But I promise I will fix this issue. Next meeting you will be heard.”

“Thank you princesa, I do hope so.” Julio shook his head and left the room.

Mateo and Elena looked at each other, at a complete lost for words when a jingling got their attention.

Almost afraid to look, they saw Doña throw Esteban’s belt to the floor, he took her in his arms in a bridal carry and they exited the room, completely oblivious to the world around them.

“Let’s just go to Princess Valentina’s hotel.” Elena suggested, shuddering a bit, “We can figure out what is going on at the palace later.”

“Yes, you’re completely right.” Mateo agreed, giving Elena his arm as they walked the hallway to the carriage, “We should be focused on this alliance.”

The ride to their destination was silent more or less as the two tried to hype themselves up for the upcoming meeting and shrug away the confusion of the morning’s antics. Even though it was before lunchtime, they hoped Princess Valentina would distract them until the alliance meeting came to fruition.

Mateo opened the door for Elena to go out first like a true gentleman and Elena respectfully waited for Mateo to come out.

The hotel was half the size of the palace, fitting for its 5 star rating to include a pool, several in-room jacuzzis, a private indoor garden, three different types of restaurants, a club room and its hotel rooms. Perfect for Valentina’s extravagant tastes.

In fact Mateo could see a bit of what Elena meant by Valentina’s grandiosity. She was wearing a triple petticoat, poofy pink dress decorated with sparkles and a large rose at the hip. All of it was a shiny satin and her hair matched with satin pink ribbons and roses interwoven in her high updo. All of it screamed, Look at me. It was fine for the Princess of Paraiso he guessed, but he preferred Elena’s much more low-key looks anyday. She just had a natural beauty that shined no matter the outfit.

She was sitting at one of the hotel’s outdoor cafe tables with a man in a purple dress shirt bearing the Paraiso symbol, Manuel, Valentina’s loyal guard no doubt.

It was clear neither of them had noticed Elena’s arrival as they continued quietly talking over a bowl of strawberry ice cream. Just as Elena was about to go up to greet them, Manuel fed a spoonful of ice cream to Valentina. Valentina smiled, licking her lips mischievously and then leaned over to give him a deep kiss.