---Princess---

---Walath's perspective---

I enter the Terrans' home, my heart beating so fast I feel it's in danger of cracking my ribplate!

My whiskers swish through the air from anxiety.

I walk down the short entryhall, the scent of Human habitation (which is not something I feel full dive VR did proper justice to!) filling my nostrils.

Though not unpleasant, the smell is certainly powerful!

As I reach the end of the wall on my right, I start in surprise at the man I suddenly see sitting there.

He places a metal implement into his mouth and pulls it back out before laying it beside another on a round tray.

He stands up, revealing himself to be the better part of twice my height!

He turns to face me, revealing the claw scars left on his right cheek by my aunt.

He dips his flat face to fix me with his piercing, forward facing purple eyes.

I'm suddenly a lot less confident that I'm not going to be killed in this room!

---Nirina's perspective---

My besuited husband hurriedly scoops the last few spoonfuls of his breakfast into his mouth without getting any on his Terran green, blue and black clothing before standing and turning to face the absolutely adorable, nervous Battan girl who's just appeared from the direction of our door and started in surprise upon seeing him.

"Apologies, Your Highness…" he smiles, toothlessly "…you're a little earlier than scheduled and you caught me finishing my breakfast."

The cute little, friendshaped, Wombat-Gibbon in a princess outfit (who I could just eat up for my breakfast, not that I'm stupid enough to say so to her) looks dismayed at my husband's words, answering "My deepest apologies, Representative! I could leave and come ba-"

"Nonsense!" I interrupt, warmly, coming to my husband's side and raising my palm to greet her "We are delighted to receive you presently and will take your slightly overprompt arrival as a compliment, Your Highness."

She raises a pawhand on the end of a proportionally long and thick arm to match my greeting.

The action reveals that she has had the razor-sharp tips of her claws rounded off, removing their ability to act as offensive weapons the way her aunt used hers to mark my husband's beautiful face.

My heart sinks a little at the thought that she might have blunted them for our benefit.

Simply not using them to attack us would have been enough. She didn't need to go that far!

Unfortunately, the line between submission and friendship is often not as clearcut as one might like…

Many gardenworlders very much struggle to understand the notion that Terrans don't need or want friends who are constantly grovelling or abasing themselves for us… or that doing so is actually quite offputting in Terran culture.

Not allowing any of the mild discomfort I just experienced to show on my face or in my voice, I gesture to the lounge area and sweetly suggest "Shall we sit down and begin, Your Highness? Or, would you like anything to refresh yourself with beforehand? If you want something we don't have, we can arrange to have it brought here…"

She frowns and turns her eyes downwards, clearly unwillingly saying "I shouldn't like to impose on your hospitality, Representative and Ambassador Rain. We can-"

"No imposition at all!" beams my husband, clearly having seen exactly what I saw but being just marginally quicker on the draw than I was "In fact, it would be our pleasure to accommodate you! Please! Choose anything you like!"

Looking back up, hopefully, she hesitates "In… that case… would it be alright to have a glass of… orange juice?"

Working hard to suppress the way I want to laugh at the humble request, I answer "Of course, Your Highness! If you take a seat, I'll bring it to you."

Then a thought occurs to me.

The UTCIS informs us that this girl has lived her entire life on the Battan homeworld… which does not allow the import of any Terran goods… meaning she's almost certainly never had orange juice.

"Have you ever had it before?" I ask, as I make my way to the stasis fridge "We may need to just check that there won't be any nasty surprises in introducing citric acid and such to your physiology."

I can only imagine how bad it would be if she needed to visit regen because her snout was half melted by a drink we'd given her on her first visit!

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"I haven't but I know it's safe for me to drink." she states.

With my back to her, I frown slightly, wondering how exactly she knows that.

"If you're sure, Your Highness." I say, opening the fridge door. My hand reaches out and hovers between the two bottles of citrus juice there are there as I add "Would you prefer pulp or no pulp?"

"Pulp please, Ambassador… If that's alright?" the adorable girl requests.

"No problem at all, Your Highness." I say reassuringly as I smirk and pick up my husband's preferred variety.

I shut the door and produce a glass from the cupboard, pouring the juice into it until mostly full and stopping.

"Would you like ice, Your Highness?"

"Yes please, Ambassador." she answers.

Placing the glass on a little shelf on the front of the fridge door, I press the top button twice.

Immediately, the small cubic chamber just above the lip of the glass is filled with water which is instantly chilled to −40°C, freezing it solid.

The icecube is gently ejected into the drink, followed a moment later by another.

I turn and make my way around the kitchen counter to the lounge area.

I feel a tiny pang of disappointment at the fact that the girl has already mounted the high seated armchair we had brought here for her, designed to put her eye level between mine and my husband's with us all sitting.

I had been looking forward to watching her climb up the steps to it (which I'm sure was extremely adorable!)

I'll just have to wait to watch her climb back down.

I extend the glass to her hand and wait until I can feel she's got ahold of it before I let go.

I round the low coffee table to take a seat next to my husband on the couch.

He raises his right ankle to rest atop his left knee, his long thighs keeping his 45cm shoes far away from the front of my dress.

He brings a 31cm long hand to rest atop my left shoulder over my head.

We both smile forward at the princess as she takes her first sip of orange juice.

Her face immediately twists in seeming disgust.

I'm halfway up from my seat, saying "Your Highness, I can get you something else if-"

"No! It's good!… It's better than good, actually!" she refuses, subconsciously withdrawing the drink to protect it from the notion of being taken away "I just… wasn't expecting it to be quite so… astringent! It took me by surprise is all."

"Ah… Yes!" chuckles my husband "That would be the citric acid my wife mentioned. To Humans at least, it is the purest, most concentrated taste of sour there is(!)… I once made a recipe that called for a small amount of powdered citric acid and dropped just two grains of it onto the work surface. Thinking they would be to sourness as two grains of sugar would to sweetness or two grains of salt to saltiness, I pressed my finger down onto them and brought them up to my tongue." he mimes the action "Only to be wracked with immediate regret as the sensation of being forcefed an entire lemon hit me in an instant!"

The girl gives an absolutely heartmelting giggle at my husbands mildly selfdeprecating story before observing "It tastes completely different to the way it does in VR. *eep*" emitting an almost imperceptible squeak matched by a very slight tense of her body, her black eyes looking as if they might have swivelled towards us as she freezes midsip.

"I'm sure it would, Your Highness." I say nonchalantly, pretending not to have realised the significance of her letting slip that she has played full dive games that feature Terran orange juice on a world that prohibits the import of any Terran products, physical or digital, but making a note of it to discuss with Ndum after she leaves "Shall we begin now?… Would you mind telling us why you requested to meet so soon after you arrived on Citadel? As pleased as we are to host you, I don't imagine you've even seen your own people's embassy yet?"

Transitioning from the nerves about her little slipup before to new discomfort, the girl says "Yes… It's about… what my aunt did to your face, Representative." looking to my husband, apologetically.

"This?" he smiles, raising a long forefinger to point to the marks (that the PR department advised him never to regen away, given their value to the Terran brand!) and waving that hand dismissively "I hold no grudge at all about it! Don't worry! I know that your aunt had been… shall we say 'hardening' as she entrenched herself against myself and my predecessors. She snapped and I simply had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of it when that happened. The fact that His Majesty immediately recalled her and dispatched you in her stead proves that her actions (and her words!) were her own and not representative of some deeper conspiracy against my kind!"

Looking slightly relieved, the girl says "Indeed they weren't! However, my father (on my advice) still wished for me to come here and [untranslatable idiom: roll in the dust. Nearest approx.: clear the air] with you…"

I smile sweetly "You may consider the air cleared, Your Highness. Your Representativeship makes a more than adequate peace offering as far as we're concerned!"

"Regardless…" she states, slotting the half full glass of orange juice into the cupholder in the arm of her high seat "…my father wishes me to relate the following… on the understanding that, while this must obviously be parleyed among your government, diplomacy and intelligence sectors to have any point at all, nothing I am about to tell you is to be made public to your people or the wider galaxy."

"You have our word, Your Highness." my husband says without hesitation.

"Indeed." I agree.

She closes her eyes and leans her stocky torso against the seatback, taking a deep inhale before saying "The Battan Kingdom will begin quietly dismantling its antiTerran position in the galaxy."

My mouth falls open in utter shock but I manage to force it closed just a moment before the girl opens her eyes again.

"Please don't expect immediate miracles! My father cannot suddenly announce the wholesale repeal of the trade embargo, the galnet restrictions etc. as doing so would be potentially destabilising to his rule and might entice one of his cousins to rise in rebellion and press their claim on the throne… However, King Tratholt LXV of Batta has come to realise that opposing your people for the sake of opposing them serves neither of our peoples' interests!… As the first step of this process, he has instructed me to vote with my conscience on issues that come before us in Parliament, Representative… though, that is with the caveat that I can't make this about face in our policy too obvious, so I may sometimes need to vote against your position, even when I don't want to… Over the coming years, trade restrictions will be eased though it may take decades, if ever, for relations to have normalised to the point where we can allow a Terran ambassador onto Batta… I hope this news pleases you?"

Both of us in stunned silence, it's several long moments before my (normally very suave and witty) husband manages to stammer "Y-yes! Indeed it does, Your Highness! If I knew that such a development would come at merely the cost of a few scratches on my cheek, I would gladly submit to them again… a thousand times(!)"

The girl giggles "That won't be necessary, Representative(!)" then raises her glass of orange juice in a very Terran looking toast and says "Here's to the start of what I hope to be a long and prosperous relationship…" before bringing it to her lips and taking a sip.

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