.quietus
ragequit, but ~poetic~
Calliope had few illusions regarding her future husband. That she could have done much worse than Prince Nereus was a solace of sorts, but it still changed little about the fact that, as far as spouses went, he just wasn’t much of a winner. He looked average; his conversation skills were average; his lineage, too, was average. ‘Average’ was the word that seemed to summarize his entire existence in general, and, to her very much not average self, that was almost a sin greater than if he had been terrible.
At least terrible would have been something.
Something that would not bore her to tears.
So, as Calliope stared at the letter, eyes still heavy with sleep and dressed in nothing but her light, silky night gown, she couldn’t help but smirk to herself. The first interesting thing you do, she thought to herself, and it’s getting murdered.
That he couldn’t even wait until the damned wedding was yet another insult. Why did everyone insist on making her life so damn difficult? Already, Calliope could feel the beginnings of a headache somewhere behind her eyes, because this… this was a mess. A mess of epic proportions. The consequences would be so far-reaching that not even she, with all her insight, could claim to reliably foresee them all, but the most pressing one was that you couldn’t really have a wedding without a groom. Marrying a corpse was out of question, too. And of course that Nereus had to have been an only child!
“Your Highness? Are you… quite alright?”
Oh. Right, the messenger was still there.
“Yes,” she gulped, before looking up at the dark-haired man, “The news was just… surprising.” To put it mildly. “You may go now. But, before you head to your chambers -- be so good and summon Lady Iriel for me. Let her know it is urgent.”
Confusion flashed across the servant’s face as he nodded, likely because why would the princess need her favorite lady-in-waiting now? The simple truth was that, no, she didn’t need a lady-in-waiting. She never really needed those, but that also wasn’t what Iriel was. In the eyes of most of the kingdom, sure; though that was mainly due to the fact that the identity of your spymaster wasn’t something you just announced to the world. Iriel was… suitable for the task, too. Still young and charming, with those big, innocent eyes that just made you want to trust her. Hiring her had been one of her better decisions, and, considering that most of Calliope’s decisions were rather good, that was actually no small feat.
With a sigh, Calliope rose from her bed. She lit more candles, mainly because this was going to be a dreadfully long night, and then promptly began pacing around the room, for no other reason than to do something. Just waiting, she felt, would make her jump out of her own skin. There was the old impulse to bite her lip as well, but she caught herself just in time to realize it was going to happen, and thus also just in time to stop it. You’re not a child anymore, she chastised, best to discard that habit.
Thankfully, she didn’t need to nurse her anxieties for long.
“Did you call, Calliope?” Calliope, not Your Highness, because they’d all but grown up together and pretending that they hadn’t was more of a hassle than living the actual truth. Besides, they shared enough secrets that manufacturing distance between them just for the sake of propriety would have felt… strange.
“I did,” Calliope sighed, “Take a look.”
Iriel took the letter from her outstretched hand, and the more of it she read, the deeper the worried wrinkle on her forehead got.
“I’m… sorry for your loss?” she finally said, and Calliope just rolled her eyes. It probably should concern her just how unconcerned she was given that a person had just died, but she also couldn’t find it in herself to truly mourn someone who she had mostly seen as an obstacle. An obstacle in fancy clothing and a nice pedigree, sure -- but an obstacle nonetheless. Few men could actually handle a woman ruling in her own right. Calliope had expected opposition, and, as such, was somewhat relieved he was gone. Or, well, she would have been, had he also not been her ticket to the throne.
“Yes, yes, it’s all terribly sad, but I hope you understand the implications of this… incident.”
The implications, of course, were that they were all screwed. She, the kingdom, everyone.
“I have no idea what to do, Iriel,” she admitted, in a rare moment of vulnerability, “Nobody knows that he’s dead yet, but…”
…but it couldn’t stay that way forever. It wouldn’t. The fool had had the audacity to die on Tarelian soil, too, which meant that, should his royal parents feel like it, they could easily blame them. Calliope could already hear the accusations in her mind. ‘Why couldn’t you keep my precious son safe?’ the queen would wail. ‘More guards could have ensured his survival!’
It had been his and his fault only that he’d insisted on visiting that stupid temple with his small entourage only, but that the people of Sareth would understand seemed a tall order.
“Nobody?” Iriel asked.
“As far as I’m aware,” Calliope nodded. “Are you suggesting something?” She must have been, because the princess knew the spark in her friend’s eyes. From that spark, many a plan had been born, and a good plan was what she needed desperately right now.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Oh, come on, Iriel. Is it something I would like less than…” she made a vague gesture with her hand, “this?”
“Quite possibly. But, if the thing that is bothering you the most is the political fallout, then you can solve that by marrying someone who looks like the prince.”
At that, Calliope gave her a stare that could only be described as ‘unimpressed.’ “Silly me! Why haven’t I thought of that? Just send for his twin brother, who both conveniently exists and is willing to get in on the scheme.”
“We actually do have someone like that, though.”
“…What?”
Iriel seemed a bit reluctant to continue if the way she played with her hands was any indication, but the question in Calliope’s eyes was enough of a prompt. “One of the prisoners. The changeling. She is quite good at stealing faces, and…”
“Have you lost your mind?!” Calliope all but shrieked. To even imply that she should entrust her future into the hands of one of those things was-- was-- “I’m not going to as much as consider such a thing.” Her, marrying a changeling? Even if it was just for a show? Never.
“Hmm? And here I was, believing that you were actually desperate for a solution.” The princess’s look was withering, but Iriel didn’t let that stop her. “Think it through, Calliope. The problem is that you can’t tie the union, right? Just suffer her presence until that happens, and… well,” she shrugged, “when the prince tragically dies of an illness a few weeks afterwards, nobody will blame the poor widow. Not when she loved him so.”
Ah. That… did make sense. Count on Iriel to save her!
That she would still need to deal with the fae was an unpleasant side effect, but it wasn’t like Calliope wasn’t used to swallowing bitter pills. Just three moons, the princess thought, three moons until the wedding, and then you will be free.
She could handle that. She would have to.
“Fine,” Calliope capitulated, “Have her brought here before I change my mind.”
At least terrible would have been something.
Something that would not bore her to tears.
So, as Calliope stared at the letter, eyes still heavy with sleep and dressed in nothing but her light, silky night gown, she couldn’t help but smirk to herself. The first interesting thing you do, she thought to herself, and it’s getting murdered.
That he couldn’t even wait until the damned wedding was yet another insult. Why did everyone insist on making her life so damn difficult? Already, Calliope could feel the beginnings of a headache somewhere behind her eyes, because this… this was a mess. A mess of epic proportions. The consequences would be so far-reaching that not even she, with all her insight, could claim to reliably foresee them all, but the most pressing one was that you couldn’t really have a wedding without a groom. Marrying a corpse was out of question, too. And of course that Nereus had to have been an only child!
“Your Highness? Are you… quite alright?”
Oh. Right, the messenger was still there.
“Yes,” she gulped, before looking up at the dark-haired man, “The news was just… surprising.” To put it mildly. “You may go now. But, before you head to your chambers -- be so good and summon Lady Iriel for me. Let her know it is urgent.”
Confusion flashed across the servant’s face as he nodded, likely because why would the princess need her favorite lady-in-waiting now? The simple truth was that, no, she didn’t need a lady-in-waiting. She never really needed those, but that also wasn’t what Iriel was. In the eyes of most of the kingdom, sure; though that was mainly due to the fact that the identity of your spymaster wasn’t something you just announced to the world. Iriel was… suitable for the task, too. Still young and charming, with those big, innocent eyes that just made you want to trust her. Hiring her had been one of her better decisions, and, considering that most of Calliope’s decisions were rather good, that was actually no small feat.
With a sigh, Calliope rose from her bed. She lit more candles, mainly because this was going to be a dreadfully long night, and then promptly began pacing around the room, for no other reason than to do something. Just waiting, she felt, would make her jump out of her own skin. There was the old impulse to bite her lip as well, but she caught herself just in time to realize it was going to happen, and thus also just in time to stop it. You’re not a child anymore, she chastised, best to discard that habit.
Thankfully, she didn’t need to nurse her anxieties for long.
“Did you call, Calliope?” Calliope, not Your Highness, because they’d all but grown up together and pretending that they hadn’t was more of a hassle than living the actual truth. Besides, they shared enough secrets that manufacturing distance between them just for the sake of propriety would have felt… strange.
“I did,” Calliope sighed, “Take a look.”
Iriel took the letter from her outstretched hand, and the more of it she read, the deeper the worried wrinkle on her forehead got.
“I’m… sorry for your loss?” she finally said, and Calliope just rolled her eyes. It probably should concern her just how unconcerned she was given that a person had just died, but she also couldn’t find it in herself to truly mourn someone who she had mostly seen as an obstacle. An obstacle in fancy clothing and a nice pedigree, sure -- but an obstacle nonetheless. Few men could actually handle a woman ruling in her own right. Calliope had expected opposition, and, as such, was somewhat relieved he was gone. Or, well, she would have been, had he also not been her ticket to the throne.
“Yes, yes, it’s all terribly sad, but I hope you understand the implications of this… incident.”
The implications, of course, were that they were all screwed. She, the kingdom, everyone.
“I have no idea what to do, Iriel,” she admitted, in a rare moment of vulnerability, “Nobody knows that he’s dead yet, but…”
…but it couldn’t stay that way forever. It wouldn’t. The fool had had the audacity to die on Tarelian soil, too, which meant that, should his royal parents feel like it, they could easily blame them. Calliope could already hear the accusations in her mind. ‘Why couldn’t you keep my precious son safe?’ the queen would wail. ‘More guards could have ensured his survival!’
It had been his and his fault only that he’d insisted on visiting that stupid temple with his small entourage only, but that the people of Sareth would understand seemed a tall order.
“Nobody?” Iriel asked.
“As far as I’m aware,” Calliope nodded. “Are you suggesting something?” She must have been, because the princess knew the spark in her friend’s eyes. From that spark, many a plan had been born, and a good plan was what she needed desperately right now.
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Oh, come on, Iriel. Is it something I would like less than…” she made a vague gesture with her hand, “this?”
“Quite possibly. But, if the thing that is bothering you the most is the political fallout, then you can solve that by marrying someone who looks like the prince.”
At that, Calliope gave her a stare that could only be described as ‘unimpressed.’ “Silly me! Why haven’t I thought of that? Just send for his twin brother, who both conveniently exists and is willing to get in on the scheme.”
“We actually do have someone like that, though.”
“…What?”
Iriel seemed a bit reluctant to continue if the way she played with her hands was any indication, but the question in Calliope’s eyes was enough of a prompt. “One of the prisoners. The changeling. She is quite good at stealing faces, and…”
“Have you lost your mind?!” Calliope all but shrieked. To even imply that she should entrust her future into the hands of one of those things was-- was-- “I’m not going to as much as consider such a thing.” Her, marrying a changeling? Even if it was just for a show? Never.
“Hmm? And here I was, believing that you were actually desperate for a solution.” The princess’s look was withering, but Iriel didn’t let that stop her. “Think it through, Calliope. The problem is that you can’t tie the union, right? Just suffer her presence until that happens, and… well,” she shrugged, “when the prince tragically dies of an illness a few weeks afterwards, nobody will blame the poor widow. Not when she loved him so.”
Ah. That… did make sense. Count on Iriel to save her!
That she would still need to deal with the fae was an unpleasant side effect, but it wasn’t like Calliope wasn’t used to swallowing bitter pills. Just three moons, the princess thought, three moons until the wedding, and then you will be free.
She could handle that. She would have to.
“Fine,” Calliope capitulated, “Have her brought here before I change my mind.”
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