Brief Encounters

Timeline 1 (Part 7): The Fate Agents

In a quiet, darkened office tower that seemed to exist in its own reality-somewhere between this world and the next-a group of men in tailored gray suits sat around a polished mahogany table. The air in the room felt thick, as if filled with the unyielding weight of destiny itself. Each man wore an expression of restrained focus, his gaze fixed on the head of the table, where an older, severe-looking figure named Mr. Ainsley thumbed through a collection of thin, leather-bound dossiers.

The ceiling was a lattice of softly glowing stars, seemingly mapped with lines and trajectories connecting various points across a vast invisible plan. The men's low voices barely rose above the hum of the space as they began discussing the meeting's subject: the Prince, and, more urgently, his growing interest in Jeanna.

A younger agent at the far end of the table, Fletcher, cleared his throat. "It appears that William's feelings for Jeanna are becoming...substantial," he began, reading from his notes. "This is no passing fancy."

Mr. Ainsley's steely eyes lifted, pinning Fletcher with a look that was both thoughtful and wary. "And here we were, thinking his priorities were aligned with his title. But yes, I've been monitoring it myself," he said, his voice as deep as the bottom of a well. "Our plan for William was clear-a legacy of stability, a carefully chosen partner, and of course, the approval of his family. Jeanna de Waal, I'm afraid, does not fall into that arrangement."

Another man, with a square jaw and sharp eyes named Hunter, chimed in. "It's astonishing how quickly these feelings took root. Two encounters, and he's already contemplating...disruptions. It's not what his father has envisioned, nor, frankly, what we have."

They exchanged glances, acknowledging the silent truth. This was not the first time they had intervened in the lives of mortals, subtly steering them back to their predestined paths. Sometimes it was a nudge in the form of a missed train, sometimes a reminder from a close confidant; sometimes, as it was now, it required a direct approach.

Mr. Ainsley opened one of the dossiers, revealing photos of Jeanna and William from their lunch at The Ivy. There was a close-up of William's face as he gazed across the table, unmistakably captivated. "We were informed that William was to dine with her," Ainsley said, his tone indicating a trace of disappointment. "Yet no amount of trivial mishaps at the restaurant could shake his focus. No spilled water, no interruptions from the waitstaff..."

"And," Hunter interjected, "it seemed she wasn't all that deterred by the inconveniences either."

A murmur went around the table, the agents exchanging resigned, knowing looks. They were, after all, dealing with something more powerful than a mere casual attraction. Fletcher, fiddling nervously with his tie, spoke again. "There's another option, sir. William's father is keen to introduce him to a young lady named Katherine. It's already in motion, and she has all the right...qualities for the family's public image. An ideal match."

Ainsley nodded thoughtfully. "That could serve us well. But we'll need to remind William where his obligations lie. He needs a gentle push toward Katherine, and Jeanna...well, she'll need distractions of her own."

The men around the table leaned in as Ainsley elaborated on the plan.

"Fletcher," he said, turning to the young agent, "Let's keep the tension and minor inconveniences at a constant. Light distractions, nothing that appears overly conspicuous." He paused, "And make her life behind the scenes increasingly demanding. Stir up unexpected rehearsals, encourage her producer to increase the pressure. Make it difficult for her to think about anything else."

Fletcher inclined his head, understanding perfectly.

"Now," Ainsley continued, his voice dropping even lower, "this is delicate. We're not to force either of them into anything unnatural. Mortals have an uncanny sense when fate is tampered with too directly. But this connection must be weakened, naturally. We've seen what happens when royal intentions deviate from our designs. We don't need another Diana."

The men shifted in their seats at that, the name casting a chill over the room. Ainsley cleared his throat and resumed.

"Our strategy is two-fold. Subtly drive a wedge between them, and when the opportunity arises, bring Katherine back into the picture." He picked up a new dossier, sliding it across the table, showing a poised young woman smiling at a formal event. "Katherine's family already has a trusted rapport with the royals, and she's every bit the stable presence the crown requires. Unlike Jeanna."

Fletcher raised an eyebrow. "She's different than our usual types, I'll grant you. A bit of a firebrand, wouldn't you say?"

"She certainly has...charisma," Hunter added, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. "But charisma alone does not make a suitable consort. Jeanna is not a part of the arrangement, and her life trajectory is far too unpredictable. We're not here to indulge fairytales."

Ainsley tapped the table sharply, recalling the agents' attention. "Exactly. So, gentlemen, remember your roles and the gravity of this work. We are here to protect the line, the future of the monarchy. Should William's heart stray, should he fall to notions of rebellion, we would risk losing what we've worked to preserve. We steer him toward the stability he needs, whether he knows it or not."

The agents nodded solemnly. Fletcher closed his dossier, his mouth pulling into a thin, resigned line. "Very well," he said, his tone cool, professional. "I'll begin nudging the production team to add more rehearsals. Jeanna won't be able to break away as easily, not if she's swamped with changes to the show."

Ainsley surveyed the group, satisfaction evident in his gaze. "Good. Let's keep this a controlled disruption. Remember, gentlemen, we are not a force to be reckoned with in the open. Our work goes unseen, our purpose unspoken. The prince must never know we exist, nor his little theater friend."

With that, Ainsley stood, and the rest of the men followed. They moved in unison, a quiet determination about them as they exited the room, leaving only the subtle hum of the glowing ceiling above, mapping out trajectories, timelines, and the seemingly endless strands of destiny they were tasked with managing.

As they dispersed, Fletcher adjusted his suit cuff. He's already planning his approach to Jeanna's producer, imagined the subtle but relentless schedule tweaks that would make her life more chaotic.

When the door to the room clicked shut, silence returned, broken only by the faint ticking of a grand clock in the corner. The agents knew their work was merely beginning.

And if William's heart chose to rebel against their intentions, they'd be ready-guiding, nudging, pushing him back on course with all the quiet power at their disposal.