The meeting room in the Royal Pavilion was quiet, save for the soft hum of the sea breeze weaving through the wooden shutters. Queen Adriana sat with her hands folded, her crown absent, replaced with a loose braid that made her look less like the sovereign of Midori-Iro and more like a young woman caught in the tide of responsibility. Across from her sat Prime Minister Kaleo Anuenue, steady and meticulous, and beside him, Captain Maris Hana of the Emerald Shield, her green-trimmed uniform crisp as ever.
Adriana (softly):
“I wanted to meet with both of you before the Legislature catches whispers. This… is something personal. My siblings are starting high school, and I… I don’t want to watch their lives from the palace balcony. I want to be closer to them, just for a time. To live near campus, even temporarily.”
Prime Minister Kaleo (raising an eyebrow):
“Your Majesty, are you suggesting leaving the royal residence? The Pavilion is more than your home — it is a symbol of stability. Moving could be read as—”
Adriana (interrupting, but gently):
“—As weakness? As distraction? I know the whispers you fear. But this isn’t about abandoning duty. It’s about presence. They are my family, Kaleo. I’ve carried this crown since I was too young to carry myself. I won’t have them think that the throne has swallowed their sister whole.”
Captain Maris (measured, cautious):
“Majesty, forgive me, but there are serious risks. Security at a public campus cannot match the Pavilion’s. Your siblings already draw attention; your presence would magnify that tenfold. Paparazzi, protestors, foreign eyes… we would need to triple protection detail.”
Adriana (looking to Maris with a sad smile):
“Captain, I know your shield is strong, but I do not wish my siblings to feel smothered under its weight. They need to walk freely, to stumble and rise without my shadow overwhelming them. I want to be nearby, not hovering above.”
Prime Minister Kaleo (interlacing fingers thoughtfully):
“Your Majesty, if we were to entertain this… relocation, compromises must be made. A private residence near the campus could be secured and fortified. You would need to maintain appearances — alternating time at the Pavilion and the residence so the public does not assume abdication of duty.”
Captain Maris (nodding reluctantly):
“We could establish a ‘low-visibility protocol.’ Your movements disguised as routine civic visits. The Shield can integrate plainclothes officers, less intrusive but equally vigilant. But understand — there is no way to erase the risks entirely.”
Adriana (after a pause, voice trembling slightly):
“I understand. But if I am to serve this nation honestly, I must also serve the children I helped raise. They are not only my siblings; they are Midori-Iro’s children too. If I show that even a queen values family above distance, perhaps our people will feel permitted to do the same.”
The room fell quiet again. Kaleo leaned back, studying her with the wary respect of a man who had seen her grow into the crown. Maris’s hand brushed the hilt of her ceremonial blade, more habit than threat, as though the idea of the queen beyond the Pavilion walls was an unsettling battle in itself.
Prime Minister Kaleo (after a long silence):
“Then, we proceed carefully. You may have your time near the campus, Majesty, but we build the structure around you. Appearances, security, continuity — they must be maintained. We cannot afford instability.”
Captain Maris (with a resigned exhale):
“And I will see to it that the Shield adapts. But know this — wherever you go, Your Majesty, you are never alone. Not truly.”
Adriana (smiling, with both gratitude and melancholy):
“Perhaps that is the burden of the crown. But let me have this, just for a little while. Let me be their sister — not their sovereign.”
The decision was not sealed with ceremony but with a quiet nod, the kind of pact born not in law but in trust. Outside, the ocean waves lapped the shore, indifferent yet eternal, as Midori-Iro’s queen prepared to balance duty with the simplest longing of all — to be family.