𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍「𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲」

[The Witch Son]

Baroness Elleni & Lady Veora

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: Baroness Elleni

Elleni may have said rather rude things to the King just the day before when she’d presented him with bolts of finely spun wool, but in public she was likely one of his tamer nobles,

She didn’t jeer at opportunities to embarrass the new Queen, or insult her snidely, or gossip about the royal couple. Not that she didn’t have the opportunity to, of course.

The tall blonde was approached numerous times, by those fishing to know if she would support the new monarch or might be counted on the side against her instead. Elleni gave neutral answers each time, focused on ending the conversation instead of revealing any motivation. It was tiring, she found, and distracted her from her careful observation of Meera and her ladies. She’d been studying them intently and unashamedly, not looking away if one of them caught her looking.

“The dress would have suited Gilda better,” said a voice next to her. Lady Vienna. “Her hair is more yellow than yours, isn’t it?”

All four of the daughters of Merid had fine blonde hair, but it was true that the hues varied between the seasons and between the sisters- Elleni’s was the most white, and Gilda’s the most golden. With the exception of their sister who’d shaved her head when she’d become a priestess, the sisters all had long hair as well. Elleni’s fine straight hair was woven into a styled braid that reached half way down her back, and would have been longer if let down.

“Perhaps it is too bold of me to say, Baroness Elleni,” the younger woman continued, “But your sister would have made a fine queen, I think. I know we all laud our King as some noble warrior,” she said more privately, “But his treatment of Lady Gilda was anything but. If there is ever anything-”

“It is too bold, Lady Vienna,” Elleni said firmly, the steel of her voice edging towards anger and interrupting whatever overture . “Find someone else to gossip about my sister with,” she said icily. “And pray to the goddess I do not happen to overhear.” She turned away sharply, the tails of her coat slicing through the air as she did so.

Elleni had worn pants and a fitted jacket in dark blue, that made the green blue of her eyes distinctly more the latter. She could have worn a dress, but she had not wanted to waste coin on having a dress made that would be fine enough for a royal wedding when she already had an appropriate suit. It had been made a few years ago but was in a classic style so as not to suddenly become unfashionable, and was worn infrequently enough that it saw very little damage from use. The tailors had altered it to keep up with her body instead of her wear of it, as she’d put on more muscle in the years of the war. She was still fairly lean, but even with the extra seam allowance, the fabric did nothing to hide the definition of her arms.

So determined in her storming off was she that she nearly ran into one of the new Queen’s ladies- The oldest one. The prettiest one, as well, as Elleni had suspected during her staring and now was able to confirm.

“Lady Veora, please excuse my haste,” she apologized, bowing to the Theren woman, her braid slipping off her back as she did so but swing back into place as she righted herself and kissed the lady’s hand. “I’m Baroness Elleni of Merid,” she introduced herself. She had not arrived earlier in the week and been able to meet the ladies then, nor had she been terribly social since getting to the city, and she imagined the poor woman had been juggling a cacophony of names and faces more important than her own.

Recovering quickly Veora curtsied, “A pleasure Baroness.”

It wasn’t lost upon her that the Baroness of Merid had been staring pointedly but not approaching, and it took little effort to put herself in the powerful woman’s way in order to suss her out. She dressed in formal wear meant for men, and women, like a Shieldmaiden in Theren might be dressed. She supposed a head of the house Merid had to either step up to the role with strength or wither under the pressure. Especially given how contested her territory was. Merid’s long lived independence couldn’t have been solely favor with the King, credit probably belonged to the Baroness as well.

“I was so eager to catch this dance,” Elleni said with a slight hint of a smile. “That I nearly forgot to secure a partner.” She had been moving in the direction of the dance floor, and a new song had started with music she enjoyed. “I don’t suppose you would do me the honor….?”

“Me? The honor would be all mine Baroness.” The small flush that came to her cheeks at unexpected invitation was real, and she tried to will it away.

Veora accepted Elleni’s hand as she was led, and once placed deigned to ask mysteriously, “How do you manage to do it Baroness?”

“Dance either part? Practice,” Elleni answered, assuming the topic of the question to be the one most easily at hand. Some dances in Beleth were group dances, but most were partnered and one person took the lead role and the other the follower- Usually gender or height determined which partner was to be which, depending on the nature and origin of the dance. “Sisters who were shorter than me and also wanted to practice,” she added, “And an admittedly limited selection.”

The dances Elleni knew she could dance as either role, but she knew fewer dances than most, and the ones she did were the older ones- As she’d gotten older, her responsibilities had lessened the time spent laughing with her sisters as they stepped on her toes. She’d been asked to dance and done the asking a few times this evening, but only for songs she was confident with.

“You just have to know what your opponent is going to do, and counter it,” she said evenly, spinning Veora away from her as the music crested, and back in again, her hand firmly on Veora’s hip on the return. “Like sparring. But with a much prettier partner,” she said.

“Unless you were referring to something else,” Elleni asked, raising her eyebrow in question as she continued to steer the other woman through the steps of the dance.

She had been, referring to something else, but the vagueness of the question offered room for the conversation to grow and that’s what she liked about it. Besides, she liked the answer, and gave a small smile, looking down briefly before answering. The baroness had such a stare.

“You must sparr as gracefully as you dance then.” She complimented. “I only have the one sister to practice with, and I heard you have many? Is your household ever at peace?” Veora joked, knowing from experience that while women were not necessarily more boisterous then men sisters were often in each other’s business with little restraint or personal consideration. Her own especially, though she wasn’t entirely blameless and could become petty in return. Still, she loved her sister fiercely.

“I am the oldest of four,” Elleni confirmed, perhaps a degree colder than she had been before. “You are correct to assume we rarely have peace, but wrong to think it because of my sisters.”

“Who could possibly dare stand against a woman with a stare like yours Baroness? Surely your foes are all cowering in some corner?” Veora spun out again, following Elleni’s lead, and drew back in. Were they closer now? “I mean that in jest Baroness, for I think it might be too bold of me to ask what ails you, despite wanting to offer my sympathies.” She said, a little more serious now.

Elleni softed a bit. Not everything that could be an insult was meant as one, she reminded herself.

“Your sympathies are appreciated,” Elleni allowed.

“Are you often at court Baroness? It would be a shame to make your acquaintance and then never see you again.” Veora recognized a subject too personal when she came across it.

“Not terribly often,” Elleni admitted. “Merid is a bit of a journey, and I prefer to be among my own people,” she said, which was perhaps odd phrasing. “I hear there may be a tournament in the coming year, though, which I would likely attend and partake in,” she considered. “You could see how I treat my sparring partners, then. I could win you a crown.”

Courtiers often gave tokens of affection to the competing fighters, who would repay the favor by winning tourney crowns and giving them to their benefactor instead of wearing it themselves.

Veora was ready for an insult after the comment of preferring to be amongst her own people, but was relieved, perhaps too much, to find that she had assumed the worst of the Baroness’s words.

“Should I be fortunate enough to be allowed to compete, I would return that favor.” Lady Veora tried to hide her smile. Even though it was commentary on an event a whole year away, she was flattered and the Baroness was a beautiful woman to be flattered by.

Elleni smiled in surprise.

“What events would you compete in,” she asked. She chastised herself for her pre-judgement, though in truth she would have to see the Lady Veora swinging a sword before she believed it, even if told it was commonplace.

“Archery. It is my sister who is the talent with the sword I’m afraid. Though I try my best to test her acumen. She gets a big head about her talents sometimes.” Lady Veora refrained from bragging. She was much better at showing than telling, as people for some reason tended to doubt her until she had embedded all of her arrows into the bullseye. “I am sure Nyme thinks she is capable of besting anyone. Perhaps you will have to face her then? If the sword is your preference.”

Whether or not Nyme would compete was a question she actually didn’t know the answer to however. Her sister’s chief concern in Beleth was to find a powerful and rich husband, and those did not usually appreciate their prospective match to compete in a tourney. They especially did not like losing to them. It was true in Theren, and most likely true here.

“Sword,” Elleni confirmed. “And javelin toss. At home I have participated in hand combat events,” she added. “But here on the continent, women are not allowed to compete in those.”

Which was a pity. She had once managed to body slam Avery, when he was still a young Prince. But they had gotten along then, and she had not been able to appreciate the pain that had blossomed across his face.

“There are a great many things not allowed to us.” Veora lamented, “I suppose we will have to make due with humiliating their expectations in what ways we are permitted. Leaving the rest to imagination. Though I suppose I would not care so much to compete were I not jeered on. I think I prefer reading to tell you the truth.” They had started a second song, and Veora had hardly noticed.

“A preference shared by many wise souls,” Elleni said agreeably. “When I was younger, I admit I found pursuits of the mind to be inferior to those of the body, but I believe that was foolish of me. I have been in many situations in which I needed the counsel of those better read than myself, and have been very fortunate to have such individuals on hand. Though- I think I will still prefer pursuits of the body,” she said, with an arch to her brow.

“Wherever one may find pleasure, they should pursue it.” Veora said boldly, daring to meet the Baroness’s gaze as she did. “I am glad that you might not find me foolish Baroness.”

It was the wine, Veora would blame the wine.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle, Marriage Suite
Interacting: Avery and Meera, Mathilde the maid

Sleeping on a bedroll with a thin blanket next to a fire was commonplace for Avery. It's just that usually he wasn't indoors, with a fine bed only paces away. Inhabited by his sleeping wife.


He woke every couple hours, an old habit from the war and the watch rotation that had come up again since the trip to Theren and back. He would poke at the fire and add a few logs as needed, and then pace back and forth a few minutes to stretch his legs.


The first time he woke, he closed the window he'd opened. Meera might have been shivering a bit, though he wasn't sure- He didn't want to investigate too closely, for fear she might wake up. He'd done it for himself, he insisted internally. He had been getting a bit chilled. (He hadn't.)


Eventually he woke up and could not fall back asleep again, so instead he laid there on his bedroll and considered the night before. By the time the sun had risen properly, he'd managed to convince himself first that Meera had been completely out of line, then that she been completely correct in all her accusations, and back and forth between the two extremes a dozen times over.


The problem, he supposed, was not whether or not she had been in the right. It was what he was going to do next, regardless. A soft knock at the door remedied the immediate ‘next’, at least.


He scrambled to his feet, checking himself in the mirror as he went. Well, his hair was a mess at least.


He pulled his shirt over his head with a wince- gods his shoulder hurt- and untied his braires a bit so they would hang loose. He didn’t have to interact with the maid- she would just leave the food out in the parlor- but if he was going to do this, he might as well do it right.


He undid the locks on their side of the door, careful to be quiet as he did so- If Meera was still sleeping, he would like to keep it that way. The maid had unlocked it from her side, and Avery opened the door just enough to slip through. He needn’t have worried about the maid seeing anything she shouldn’t have, as she was already half way across the room.


“Oh! Your Majesty,” she said when she heard him, turning around and curtseying quickly. “I’ve brought breakfast. For Your Majesties,” she said, gesturing at the tray. Like there was anything else she might have been doing.


It was funny, Avery thought- Mathilde had seen him shirtless before, and had never blushed so much. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was tying up his underthings as though he’d only just put them on.


“Excellent,” he told her, evenly. “We’re quite hungry, you know.”


“Of course, sir,” Mathilde squeaked. “I’ll be back for the dishes in an hour or so, sir,” she told him.


“All right,” he said agreeably, examining the tray. There was an abundance of food, and a paper listing those who had requested to meet with either the King or Queen, despite their seclusion.


“See you same time tomorrow, then,” he told her, and Mathilde’s eyes widened. She might even have smiled, though she was trying to keep up a professional demeanor.


“You’ll be staying here another night, then,” she asked. Embarrassed as she was by the idea of her boss’s sexual activity, she was clearly pleased that it seemed to be going well.


“Oh, at least,” he said with a casual reassurance he didn’t feel. “We can have up to a week, can’t we?”


“Of course, sir! Though I hardly think normal convention ought to apply to Your Majesties,” she said in a private whisper. Perhaps he was overdoing it, Avery thought- Mathilde would keep them in here a month if she had her way.


“Well, there is a country to run,” he allowed. “But I appreciate your support, Mathilde.”


She beamed again. “Enjoy breakfast, Your Majesty. And… Other things,” she said, blushing even more spectacularly when she couldn’t help herself from glancing down at his crotch.


Gods above and below.


He dismissed her with a slight glare and a wave of his hand, and she hurried away, eager to either stop embarrassing herself or to let him get back to his new Queen. Knowing Mathilde, probably a mixture of both.


Avery sighed. That had gone quite well, all things considered. Mathilde was loyal enough that she would never in ill faith describe the private life of her monarchs, but she would certainly be asked, and be reduced to a very red face and a stammered statement about how that was private business and no concern of hers, and folks could infer the rest.


He brought the tray of food back into the bedroom and set it on the small table, then hurried to pick up his shirt again and pull it back on before he work Meera.


Though he supposed maybe he ought not to wake Meera? Was it ruder to interrupt her sleep, or to start eating without her?


The bowls of porridge lids on them to keep them warm, and it wasn’t like they couldn’t get more food for her if she woke later, he supposed.

He tried to make some noise as he set the dishes down on the table- Enough to be heard, but not enough to be accused of intentionally trying to disturb her.


“Your Majesty,” he said, at a speaking level from the foot of the bed. “Breakfast is here. If you would like some.”


He didn’t think he really wanted her to wake up and join him, in case she threw the porridge, but he knew at least that he didn’t want to tell her later that he had tried to wake her up and have that be another lie.


Surprisingly, Meera had slept like a rock. She thought she might end up restless, but the entire affair of a Belethan marriage ceremony and then yelling at your husband was a lot of hard work.


She woke up pretty groggy, upset still but over what she didn’t know. Till she sleepily located the source of the voice waking her up. She huffed and rolled over, She wasn’t awake enough to deal with the bastard.


“Mnghmphine.” Was her reply as she began stretching and yawning, willing life and energy into her bones. Once she was done with the sometimes lengthy process of waking herself up she slipped out of bed and located a robe, red with spun gold thread, she’d admire how pretty it was if she was more awake. But as of now her singular thought was of food, which was beginning to reach her nose.


She plucked a strawberry from a bowl in the middle of the table before settling in her seat, the table was smaller and more intimate than regular dining tables in royal suits, made for two people. But she didn’t focus on that as much as she focused on her food.


She spotted the list as she moved to pluck more fruit into her porridge. “When can they be received?”


She didn’t seem interested in throwing the strawberry at him, so that was something.


He started cautiously on his own porridge.


“Uh- In about an hour I suppose,” he said. “After the maid returns for the breakfast things, we can ask her to let them know we would like to see them.”


“Hm.” And a nod was her only answer, she ate quickly, wanting to freshen up before that happened, she was probably looking bedraggled right about now. And she didn’t really want to sit with her husband longer than necessary. She preferred the expanse of the room separating them.


They ate breakfast in silence. Once Avery had finished was not so hungry- how had he managed to eat so little at the feast?- he refolded the blanket and replaced the bedroll, so there was little sign they had not slept in the same bed.


Time passed in a quiet manner as Meera did her utmost to pretend Avery didn’t exist, the washroom had basins of water waiting but the bath lacked any. She supposed that was as needed but it wasn’t as though she had time before the maid arrived to take one either.


“Oh hello there!” She greeted the maid first, fresh faced. “I understand our advisors asked to see us, you can send them up now that I’m somewhat put together.” Meera gestured offhandedly in the direction of Avery.


“Of course, Your Majesties,” Mathilde said.. She’d brought another maid who replaced the chamber pot and water basins, as she loaded her cart with the used dishes. ““They’ll be along in a few hours,” she told them pleasantly.


Meera almost died on the inside.


“They aren’t available… Now?,” Avery asked.


“I’m afraid they have other appointments this morning,” Mathilde said, unconcerned at the fact that her monarchs were going to continue being unsupervised. “Lady Roysa won’t be available until after lunch at least, and I’m unsure of Lord Cromwell’s schedule,” she admitted. “But don’t you worry! I’ll make sure they send attendants well ahead of their arrivals- Would half an hour be enough time?”


“Yes. That should be... sufficient,” Avery replied, trying not to let his voice strain. It wasn’t like there would be anything to interrupt. “Mathilde, please leave the fruit,” he added. He was going to need something to do with his mouth that wasn’t saying something stupid.


“Of course,” she said cheerily, putting it back on the table. “You two enjoy yourselves now,” she beamed, winking at them as she backed the cart out the door of the bedroom.


“Thank you Mathilde.” Meera looked down and allowed herself to blush, which was an act worthy of praise in her opinion. She could’ve been a theatre girl in a troupe if she had not been born a royal.


Until the door closed.


And her face fell.


“Damn you Blackbird.” She said under her breath before retreating to the bed, to ruminate for hours till their advisors arrived. Which proved to be bearable for a little while since she was able to fall asleep once more, but even that didn’t pass the time for long.

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Averrett

Location: Marriage Suite - Redhill Castle | Interacting with: Lady Roysa & Lord Cromwell

It had been years since Avery had written letters to the next of kin of his fallen men. That task usually fell to their most direct superior- But Avery had assumed command of the mission to Theren and back, which made him their direct superior. The old unit leader had offered to do it on his behalf, but Avery had declined. It was his fault they had died, and he could damn well let
their families know of their passing.

He only had a few to write, but it was taking him much longer than he’d remembered- It was what he was working on when the guard knocked on the sitting room’s door to tell him Lady Roysa would be arriving soon, and what he was still working on them when she was announced.

“Your Majesty,” she said curtly, dropping into a slight curtsey before taking a seat opposite him. She looked around the room. “Her Majesty is not joining us?”

“She’s sleeping,” he explained. “I told her she could have breakfast with her ladies tomorrow morning,” he said, and Roysa frowned.

“It would be… Unconventional, to allow them to take a meal here with her,” she replied, and he groaned. So, no- The royal apartments were not yet ready. “Well, don’t promise things you can’t deliver,” she chided her nephew.

“And when can she and her ladies enjoy breakfast in her rooms, then?”

“Your father and mother spent five nights in their wedding suite,” Roysa said. “I think it would be good, for you to do the same,” she continued, answering the question indirectly.

“Which I’m sure was the foundation of their successful and happy marriage,” Avery said, a dry note in his tone. He had no desire to emulate his parent’s relationship, even in such a small way.

“Well it certainly put to rest any rumors that they did not enjoy each other’s company,” she said smoothly. “And led to the birth of their first child,” she reminded him. “So I think five nights is perfectly adequate.”

“Adequate for what?” Meera chimed in, opening the doors fully and striding in, annoyed that she had not been awaken upon the arrival of advisors, even if this one in particular was not her own. But acknowledging that really it was partially her own fault since she very well couldn’t rely on her husband for single damn thing, it would be considered ‘holding her hand through every little thing’ by his majesty.

She settled in a chair adjacent to the both of them, further annoyed that she wasn’t fully dressed like Lady Roysa, as this felt like a meeting of sorts. It gave the impression of a lack of preparedness, forced because it was purpose but still. Meera was quickly becoming acquainted with little comforts she hadn’t realized she required as they were being taken away.
Roysa stood when Meera entered the sitting room, and dipped into a slight curtsy. “Your Majesty. How kind of you to join us,” she said cooly.

Avery gestured at his aunt to repeat what she had said, but she only turned her cool gaze towards him instead.

She was more of a bastard than Emerson was sometimes, he thought bitterly. Fine then.

Meera inclined her head slightly, “I would’ve loved to have been informed of your arrival Lady Roysa but it appears that was simply too much trouble. Now where were we here?”

“We’re going to spend four more nights in this suite,” Avery said, gritting his teeth slightly but doing what he could to seem confident in this declaration. “Though I’m sure we will be alerted if anything needs our attention,” he said pointedly at his aunt, and she inclined her head in agreement.

It might very well be only three more nights, but better to plan for four.

Meera’s jaw tightened as well before she shifted in her seat to physically attempt to loosen herself up, “That is… unacceptable, things already require my attention.” she said slowly and evenly, but as pleasantly as she could muster in her state of irritation. She had never before been so cooped up in her lifetime. This was maddening. It could not be true that people truly lived like this or enjoyed doing things like this.

Roysa turned to look at Meera with obvious displeasure, as though she were a misbehaving child.

“The King has made a decision,” she said flatly. “Your interests can be accommodated around it, if need be. Your marriage is what requires your attention.”

“The King can force himself on me later Lady Roysa, but while he is entitled to do that he is not entitled, according to the treaty between our two Kingdoms, to keep me from performing my necessary duties to Theren where my mother can not.” Meera recited nonchalantly, unconcerned by the crassness of some of the language she used. Lady Roysa had been part of negotiations, she shouldn’t be under any illusions of the general feelings surrounding their arrangement.

Avery visibly winced.

“Your work shall be brought to you,” Roysa said firmly. “And seeing as it is so important to you, I shall be sure to let your ladies know not to join you here for breakfast tomorrow, as you shall be every so busy performing your… Necessary duties to Theren. If you would like, I can take my leave and go fetch you some reports now-”


“No,” Avery interrupted loudly. “Please stay,” he added somewhat more smoothly, unsure if he was more scared of his wife’s temper or his aunt’s. “Anything…. Unusual in the arrest reports for last evening?,” he fished, desperate to move to some safer topic.

“An abnormally high amount of public drunkeness in the city,” Roysa reported dryly. “But nothing unexpected or suspicious.” People got rowdy during feasts and festivals and big celebrations. “It is my understanding that Lord Chancellor Cromwell is in charge of the investigation into the earlier attack on your persons, so if there are any updates, he will provide them.”

She was clearly unimpressed by the lack of her own involvement.

“I’m sure he’ll be along briefly. Now about those reports?” Meera tilted her head and smiled sickly sweet, feeling downright petty and uninterested in letting Lady Roysa know anything more about what she clearly wanted to know about. Despite the fact that she’d probably fish it out of her nephew the minute she could have a moment alone with him. Which would apparently be four whole days from now.

Besides, she really did want something to do other than absolutely nothing in this thrice damned suite.

“Is there any topic you are particularly interested in, Your Majesty,” Roysa asked Meera. “I’m not sure when Lord Cromwell will be available to meet with you, but I can pass on to him or to an attendant your requests, so as to mitigate delay.”

“As long as it happens without delay.” Meera twiddled her thumbs, looking back and forth between Avery and Lady Roysa, wondering if that was all.

There was a knock on the door and Avery said loudly, “Come in!”

The guard poked his head in.

“Lord Chancellor Cromwell is here,” he announced.

“Very well, show him in,” Avery nodded, and the guard opened the door further to admit the Chancellor.

“I shall leave you to it then, Your Majesties,” Roysa said as she stood, nodding briefly before heading towards the door.

“Lady Roysa.” Cromwell inclined his head briefly as he passed her, they had already interacted before.

“Your Majesties.” Lord Cromwell unfolded the stacks under his arms, including a leather bound portfolio holding yet more parchment and set it on the table before them.

“Good news, as far as I can tell within the court right now, the general consensus amongst the castle is that the both of you are busy consummating your marriage. Thanks to the maids. Even though that has clearly not transpired.” Cromwell looked pointedly at Meera, sweeping over her general form, which was far more stiff and irritated than he had ever seen her, even when negotiating the treaty. Clearly she was not at all pleased with her husband. That didn’t surprise Cromwell considering certain choices by said husband, but he figured they might work it out eventually.

Avery went bright red.

“What we do privately is hardly any of your business,” he told Cromwell.

“On the contrary, it is exactly my business your majesty. The Queen can not bare you any issue threw miraculous conception I can assure you. And her monthlies are due to start any day now so your chances-”

“Thank you my lord, that is enough, you’re fully aware of my irritations already clearly, and I think you are merely having fun at the King’s expense.” Meera couldn’t stop her amused smile, though she did stop Cromwell in his ministrations. They were appreciated and had made her smile though.

“I was curious to see if his majesty was capable of turning an even deeper shade of red, but there are more important things on the itinerary. I have an update on the investigation into the attack, which is as of now, fully underway.” Cromwell’s tone darkened into something more serious as he mentioned the attack.

Avery was not impressed.

“Theren’s spymaster arrived last night on horseback. He was briefed on the situation and sent with doubles of the evidence we have, a piece of armor with the mark of a blacksmith somewhere in Beleth, a copy of the love letter, and a drawn reference to the unique sword of the leader. It isn’t much to go on but I trust that answers can be had from these clues and so does he. In order to keep the investigation as tightly secured as possible he was sent with members from the troupe who fought with us during the attack. A few from Beleth, a few from ours. The rest sworn to secrecy. A guide was also sent with them but he is being kept in the dark on details mostly. This part of the investigation can be over quickly if we are lucky, or may take months upon months if we are particularly unlucky. They left post haste, I think it was some time around breakfast the preparations were finished.” Cromwell remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back as he ran through the particulars.

Avery nodded as Cromwell spoke- This was all in line with what he had expected.

“Very good,” Avery agreed. “I’ve spoken with my own spymaster about the matter- For now he’s reviewing travel and expenditure among our nobles who may have had… Motive to arrange such an attack, but I imagine results are more likely to be yielded from the field work end of things. If your man finds anything that leads him towards Beleth or one of our citizens,” Avery said, though privately he thought it was more of an ‘if’ than a ‘when’. “He will of course have the full cooperation of our network,” he promised.

Beleth’s web of spies and informants was not to the standard Avery would have liked, but they did an admirable job with the limited amount of resources they had compared to the wide range of duties and geography they needed to cover. They’d lost several of both official ‘spymasters’ who held the title, and the actual spymasters who did the work behind the scenes in the last five or so years, and the fact that this attack had happened with little warning several days ago and they still had little to show for it was proof enough that the network had yet to structurally recover.

“Forgive me if I gave the wrong impression or mislead your Majesty…” Cromwell corrected, “But we are exclusively traversing Beleth territory. It is quite clear given the evidence that these men were not Theren warriors. Your spymaster is already aware of this of course. I have his written report here.” Cromwell shuffled through his stack, somehow knowing precisely where the report papers were despite the lack of physical organization between the parchment.

“No, not at all, I suspected this would be the case,” Avery admitted with a sigh.

“To read at your leisure.” Cromwell handed the report to Avery.

“As for the second attack, the one on the farmer tradesmen family, the Becketts as we’ve identified, no further information has been had about the attackers. After a while their trail became visibly covered, and disappeared altogether.” Cromwell separated that written report as well, which was short and only consisted of one paper.

“How is Alexander?” Meera asked, plucking the report from him. Avery, who had been reaching for it, let his hand fall.

“Preparations for his care and livelihood have been arranged, he’ll go to a neighbor in-”

“Oh of course not, I instructed my ladies not to leave him out of their sight.” Meera grinned, looking up. “Not until I am there.”

“Ah… yes, that is why I can not seem to pry the boy from their presence.” Cromwell sighed. “Nor can Lady Roysa apparently. Who arranged for his transport this morning.” He almost sounded like he was chiding.

“No I can imagine not, I gave express instructions.” came Meera’s nonchalant reply.

Avery’s frown, initially brought on as he considered the unusual nature of the attack on the Beckett family, deepened as he attempted to follow the conversation of Meera and her advisor.

“There’s no reason he can’t stay here for another week or so,” Avery offered, hoping to make Meera happy at little cost. “The winter snows won’t make the paths difficult for a few months still, and it will give the neighbors time to prepare,” he pointed out.

“Very well your majesties.” Cromwell rolled his shoulders, not sure that this was the best course of action. He didn’t like the idea of the boy staying longer than necessary, at this rate he’d be staying indefinitely.

“That is all as far as pressing matters go, though your mother did send a letter.” Cromwell fished out a letter and handed it to Meera.

“She was informed that you are well and now married, but I am sure the Queen Regent would prefer to hear from you.”

“Thank you Cromwell, I have many letters to write as of now actually. Could you mind leaving me whatever you can? I’ll go mad if I’m not given something to do while stuck in here for the next four days.” Meera broke the seal of her mother’s letter.

“I will see to it that proper supply and reports are brought to you, for now I do not have any blank parchment. Were you thinking of writing to Ruhar?” Cromwell pressed.

“Yes, them first. Our other allies and those who sent well wishes too, but we must sort out trade once more.” Meera said, “Are the pirates still a problem?”

“Yes… unfortunately. They have not ceased attacking whatever ships we send out, we are still unable to safely import or export overseas.” Cromwell turned to Avery, as it was he who had first set them upon Theren’s ships. Cease fire had been months ago, and the treaty signed a fortnight passed. He understood things didn’t happen immediately but it was certainly time sensitive that Theren’s economy be able to function, people’s bellies needed filling.

“It has been difficult,” Avery admitted, “For our patrols to identify pirates, unless they are actively attacking another ship.”

That was the problem with pirates- They didn’t tend to fly their more ominous colors unless they had a reason to. Stopping every merchant ship and having them prove their identity wasn’t the most effective, either. Many pirates that operated in the gulf were traders legitimately recognized by nations far into the reaches of the ocean, and though they almost certainly were pirates- very rarely did they have receipts to prove they had just made or accepted a delivery- a crew of foreign traders could not be unilaterally arrested on suspicion alone.

The best thing to do, of course, was to patrol along the opening of the gulf and turn away anyone who could not prove a valid reason to pass- Except that Avery had done away with that practice during the war. They did not have enough ships to keep watch for attacks and keep an eye on pirates trying to get goods out of the gulf, and so both jobs were being done poorly.

“We believe the raiding efforts are primarily directed by a few key players,” Avery told them. “And all efforts are being made to apprehend them. In the meantime, heavy fines have been imposed on all merchants in Beleth found to be dealing in suspect goods.”

It was hardly a perfect solution, but it had helped to dry up the market for pirated merchandise in Beleth, forcing the pirates out of the gulf and into the loose barricade where it might be caught. The goods could then be returned to their original destination in Theren, but that process could take weeks- Even longer if it was successful, because the large Beleth ships could catch multiple pirates, and need to drop off cargo at several places in Theren.

Avery’s sailors were sailors- Not experts in determining the original, planned destination for a shipment, nor in deciding which shipments were to be given highest priority. The man in charge of the ships along the gulf’s opening wrote him very lengthy, unhappy letters about the whole business.

“The Duke of Yetun has been persuaded to lend some of his own ships to provide protection to the Theren merchants, but he has been…. Fickle about just how many he is willing to commit,” Avery revealed.

“And our own navy…” Meera began.

“Is weak.” Cromwell nodded.

“I’ll think on this. We can expand but we would need to import supply in order to do so.” Meera noted.

“That is the primary problem and solution yes.” He cleared his throat, “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?” Cromwell looked to them both.

“I think that will be all.” Meera said.

“Then I shall be on my way, your work should be along post haste, along with reading material I should think.” Cromwell gathered his things and bowed out of the room.

Meera opened her mother’s letter and began reading.

Avery sat quietly for a moment, reviewing the information Cromwell had given him briefly to determine nothing needed immediate attention that the advisor might have missed. He’d look at it more closely later, after he had finished his own letter writing- He’d been starting to make progress and he didn’t want to lose it again.

They sat like that for a while, quiet.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Averrett

Location: Marriage Suite - Redhill Castle | Interacting with: eachother

“My ladies were never going to be able to join me for breakfast here were they…” Meera sighed as she got up, retreating into the suite. She didn’t really want to fight, she was just stating a truth.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was now the second day, and the married couple had taken to quietly working, a stalemate of sorts. It was peaceful at least. Ignoring each other was effective, they both focused on their tasks at hand and did not bicker, which was better than before at least.

Or worse. At least when they fought they acknowledged each other’s existence.

Lady Roysa had been entirely correct in lording the King’s decisions over Meera, though Meera highly suspected they were less his decisions and more Lady Roysa’s. That was a problem. A big problem. In effect it meant Lady Roysa had power of her, and she wasn’t comfortable with that in the slightest. It was bad enough her husband had that power, and that she had to comply. But the way she chided her and took away something she wanted, or seemed to in any case, shocked her. She would not spend her life cowed to a woman who hadn’t the rank to be cowing her. Her mother would scoff at the idea, she raised her to be Queen in act not just in name.

She had to find a way to shut Lady Roysa out of the decision making.

This was why it was so troublesome that the King had hidden his identity from her so early on. Or perhaps she should not have gotten so angry at having that detail hidden from her. After all, he had seemed to like her well enough on the journey. It mattered little now though, this marriage was a mess before it began and she had to find some way to correct its course.

Her mother and father had ruled as equals.

Perhaps the path to that was first accepting where you are, and being willing to be humble even when it hurts your pride. It wasn’t as though her pride and that of her countrymen wasn’t already in shambles. All she had now was false pride. She may as well let that go too if it was impeding her progress. She had to make progress, and before they finally left this room. If she lost him before they left this room they’d have an entire castle with which to avoid one another and that would make things impossibly hopeless.

So she had to make progress with the King who tossed away a crippled betrothed before she ever came here, murdered her father, and annexed her country. It was difficult to believe, looking at him, he seemed an uncomfortable and stiff man who hadn’t the backbone for such cut throat atrocities. Though at least, perhaps, she was being unfair in labeling him a murderer, her father did die honorably in battle. Meera never cared for warrior’s pride and thought it foolish to consider death honorable when you still left behind a family who loved you. But as she considered it, it was a comfort that her father had died on his own two feet, as a warrior, as Theren’s King, and not executed on some scaffold on his knees. There was comfort in that. Even though he was still dead.

Meera stopped her pacing, she had her letter to Ruhar in hand, staring at it without really reading it, chewing on her thumbnail in thought.

“Grain.” Meera said suddenly. Turning to Avery.

Avery looked taken aback by a noise other than the sound of paper and quills.

“Does Beleth have grain to sell? No doubt the war was expensive for Beleth, the treasury needs filling, those are taxes you’re looking over. What if instead of taxing your already heavily taxed people you were to sell grain to Theren? Its treasury can more than afford it, especially since your advisors neglected to negotiate a dowery.” Meera moved over to his table, taking a seat next to him.

“Oh,” Avery said, catching up with the conversation and rummaging through his papers in search of something. He was a little offended to hear she thought he was overtaxing his people, though his nobles no doubt agreed with that assessment.

“And lumber, you know our villages are severely damaged, and we need to expand our navy, we could buy that from Beleth too.” She folded her hands on the table, keeping eye contact.

“Moise has agreed to sell one third of their extra grain surplus at a subsidized rate through the Beleth crown,” Avery told her, showing her the letter he’d exchanged with the leader of one of the agrarian baronies. Though the war had not starved Beleth the way it had Theren, production was done across the nation and Moise could have sold their surplus to many of the other regions in Beleth at a higher price.

“The issue is in how to transport it,” he explained, revisiting the earlier topic of sea transport. Spare ships were not easily available, for the cargo space or the protection needed. And wagon trains were slow- The grain from Moise had been bought nearly a month ago and had only arrived in the capitol recently.

“And with getting other lords to do the same- They claim that because that grain is no longer on the market, the price has increased higher. Which is true,” he admitted, “But not nearly by the amounts they are now asking for,” he explained, showing her the inflated figures.

“We usually buy from Ruhar, we could leverage that. In good faith Theren is willing to buy at an inflated rate but not by this much.” She tapped the papers, “This would be the first trade deal with our two countries since anyone can remember, if we can pull this off it can open opportunity for more. And countries who do business together aren’t very inclined to break out in war, not when there’s money to be made.”
Avery nodded agreeably.

“My trade minister has people doing working to find out what the grain is actually going for throughout Beleth,” he said, because the landowners sold their surplus crops who sold it to other merchants who sold it to others who sold it at open markets, and it was a lot of transactions and numbers that were rarely compiled and presented in a way that was easily understood. “We could use that information to make an initial offer.”

She nodded, “What about lumber?” She pressed.

“Lumber I haven’t made much progress on,” he admitted. The landowners with forests owned the lumber, but it was rarely their own people who cut and transported the logs. “Most just cut what is needed, and to clear an area for farming,” he considered. Some of his nobility considered taking an axe to their old forests more trouble than it was worth, unless they had a locked buyer. Which he supposed they would. “Perhaps if Theren could provide or pay for the labor to fell and move the trees, a discounted rate could be negotiated? And clearing some areas would allow for further crop development, which would be of benefit to all.”

Avery was aware that his tactics had not just destroyed the season’s harvest for Theren farmers, but perhaps the next few seasons as well.

“It depends on what would make your Lord’s happier, we are willing to this, it would be little trouble. But… Averett.” Meera used his name for the first time, shifting in her seat to face him better, “I keep trying to tell you that money isn’t really the issue. It was the siege tactics and burning of our supply that we were mostly troubled with.” Meera severely understated this, she wasn’t trying to nettle him or make him feel guilty so she tread carefully, “Theren’s coffers were quite full before the war and stayed that way because there was no one to buy from. So you understand what I’m offering? Don’t you?” Meera looked him over a moment.

“I’m offering a trade deal specifically beneficial to Beleth to open our trade negotiations on the favorable foot, as far as Beleth’s Lord’s are concerned.” She would need to convince her mother, but she did have reason on her side so that shouldn’t be impossible.

“... I am unused to straightforward dealing,” Avery allowed after a moment’s thought. He was rather accustomed to needing an angle for everything he proposed.

“I suppose that is a benefit here then, we can be straightforward with one another. I am not one of your Lords after all.” Meera pointed out tentatively.

The corner of Avery’s lip almost twitched upwards. No, she certainly wasn’t- She had the haughty and entitled demeanor and the snide comments down, he supposed. But she had yet to imply his rule was invalid, or that he was a fool for making a treaty, or suggested he marry his sister to one of her relatives. Conversely, none of his nobles had thrown anything at him. (Excepting Elleni, of course.)

Well. He could be straightforward, he supposed.

“I will trust in your judgement of what Theren can and cannot afford,” he decided, since she certainly knew better than him. “And I won’t deny that it would be… Beneficial, to reduce any appearance of partiality in dealings.” He’d already been accused of favoring Theren when he’d bought the grain from Moise, and made suggestions for further trade in the future. “I think it would lessen the chance of resentment, and encourage future dealings.”

Avery had learned that his nobles balanced their desire to be petty against their desire to increase their own wealth, and he assumed that once a few put aside their grudges and found it profitable, the others would rush to do the same for fear the others would be more successful.

“But,” he said slowly. “I am… Reluctant, to establish trade between our countries as business between ‘foreign countries’.” He was careful to try and articulate his thoughts. “I married you, but I also married your people- I have just as much responsibility to their hunger as I do to my own. I do not wish to make any deals that will disadvantage them, now or in the future.”

Meera listened carefully, nodding but unable to hide a small chuckle once he’d expressed his thoughts. “That is very noble of you, to be sure, but our countries are separate, and what is beneficial to all is if Theren and Beleth can open trade between one another freely. Not only for the crown but for the common folk as well. That’s how a relationship is established, and myths about each other dispelled. Theren’s laws prevent any trade amongst the commons across the border right now, but a trade deal made by the crown would be enough to strike down that law. A one time trade is all it would take for our people to begin to mingle, to share their cultures, and buy grain more directly as needed. For a long time now Ruhar has more or less been able to charge whatever they so please because they did not have any competition. It would benefit Theren to have alternatives. So paying more now, can ensure we pay less later, and help change trade policy. Meanwhile here in Beleth your Lord’s see you making a very beneficial trade deal that puts gold in the economy when it needs it most, and as you say, they see you are not being soft or playing favorites but attempting to line the pockets of your people as they believe a good King should do.”

This all- or at least- mostly, sounded good to Avery, and he nodded his assent.

“Very well, then,” he said. “Let us do that. Are the terms something you will need to discuss with your mother? Otherwise I can have my trade minister draft some preliminary language.”

“A draft from your trade minister to send along with my letter would help me convince her of the merits.” She was sure that her mother did not think that trade could remain closed between the two forever, not rationally at least, and her mother could not override her decision ultimately. That still didn’t stop Meera from desiring her mother’s support and approval though.

She took a deep breath, thinking a moment, “Your sentiments almost remind me of your brother, the late King. We almost met once. Before the war. I don’t know if you knew that. But I respected him a great deal, his letters were very idealistic, but practical. I consider sometimes what we could have accomplished had… well, you know the rest.” Meera said softly, playing with her fingers.

When discussing trade and other official matters, Avery tended to wear his public persona, even in private. So his change in demeanor was more subtle than it might have been, but it changed nonetheless.

“My brother… Wrote to you of his plans?”

He did know the rest, unfortunately, and was not particularly happy to be reminded of it.

She looked up, “You don’t know? I suppose not, he expressed the importance of secrecy to me. The only people I ever told were my parents, I had gotten them to agree to allow me to meet him in person. The date and location had been set and everything. He said he had a few plans to implement a relationship between our countries. I imagine a trade deal must have been one of them as I was to bring our trades minister and a few other dignitaries.”

That meeting had never happened thanks to what took place next, the spark of a war.

“I knew of his plans,” Avery said. “Just not that he had already been in contact with you about them so directly. Or that he’d made such firm plans to meet with you…”

Avery trailed off, thinking. This information could be interpreted in a variety of ways, none of which provided great clarity.

On the one hand, that Elion had written directly to Meera and bypassed others in favor of secrecy certainly implied that he had concerns about who in her court could be trusted. Perhaps telling her father had been the act that doomed Elion, if King Gaius had taken great offense at the idea of having Avery as a son-in-law.

But it didn’t sound as though Meera had been aware of that detail in order to pass it on to her father. Though he might have assumed such an arrangement would be proposed or heard it from some other source, it would have been reckless to have Elion killed for such a slight that he had yet to officially commit.

Especially because on the other hand, King Gaius had little to lose by following through on peace talks. It had been Avery’s father who had escalated the long-held tension into hostility and outright fighting along the border, and Gaius would presumably be content to end it. And Theren had still been winning battles then, so they would have had a much stronger negotiating position than they later had. They might have refused a marriage proposal outright, or renegotiated it so that more distant relatives of each royal family were wed instead.

The only thing this information really clarified, he supposed, was that his brother’s death was indeed a very suspicious business.

“And your parents and your ministers seemed…. Optimistic about the meeting?,” he asked cautiously.

Averett seemed, pensive, as if considering things, so Meera just let him think and answered his questions, “My parents didn’t know what to make of it, and at first of course they thought it to be a trap. But I convinced them that he was worth hearing out, I think at the time they were open to the idea of peace because everything was going so well. Especially our economy, the unnecessary expenses of skirmishes at the border were… well, unnecessary. At the very least a grudging stalemate would’ve benefitted everybody.” She straightened, thinking back, “As for my ministers, they didn’t know. They just knew they were coming with me somewhere on an important matter of sensitivity and I needed them there. It was only two or three of them who were to come along anyway.”

“It was Elion who cautioned me on secrecy.” She finished, as an afterthought.

“Well,” Avery said tightly, unsure what he was supposed to say, but feeling like he’d been caught in this conversation and sorely wishing for a way out.

He supposed he could just invent one.

“I’m afraid I didn’t sleep as well as I would have liked last night,” he said after a moment. It wasn’t technically a lie- He’d been sleeping very poorly every night since they’d arrived back at Redhill. He continued stiffly, “Please excuse me, I think I shall go lie down for a bit.”

She must have said something wrong, or perhaps the subject of his brother was just too unpleasant for him, whatever the case she could at least get him to stop sleeping on that ridiculous bedroll. She watched him bend down to fish it out and stopped him.

“You should just take the bed, it isn’t as though I’m using it anyhow. I’ll wake you when dinner arrives.” Meera insisted.

Avery paused, unsure for a moment. It seemed rude to do so, but he couldn’t deny the bed would be more comfortable. And she had offered, perhaps in an attempt to show kindness. It would be rude to refuse her as well.

“...Thank you,” he finally decided, straightening up again and pulling the blankets back on the side of the bed she hadn’t been using.

It felt a little bit ridiculous to have him thank her for use of the bed, this was his technically, all of it was. Including herself. But that he wasn’t inclined to step on that fact pleased her, she gave a forced grin and nodded. Turning back around to omit the letter she had written to Ruhar. They didn’t need to be pandered to so much for selling something essential to them when Theren had another supplier now.

Meera continued to work quietly, until dinner arrived, quicker than she had expected. She considered waking her husband up but he seemed as asleep as a baby, and recalled that he’d mentioned he hadn’t been sleeping well. She felt a pang of guilt at that, having denied him a bed, and let him be. She left food on their work table for him instead if he woke up later.

But later never really came, and soon Meera was getting drowsy herself.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle, Lady Roysa's Suite
Interacting: Roysa and Emerson

If Roysa was surprised to find Lord Emerson lounging in her private office, she certainly didn't look it.

"Well," the young man asked. "How are the blissfully wedded couple?"

"He isn't pleased at the timeline I gave him," Roysa admitted. "But I didn't expect him to be. You were right- It might have gone over better if I hadn't mentioned his parents' wedding as a benchmark comparison."

Emerson raised an eyebrow. "'Course I was right," he said smugly. "Mind writing that down for me?"

She ignored him.

"I'm satisfied enough with the first floor, so I'm thinking I'll allow her ladies to see it tomorrow and confirm the positioning of the furniture and art. Assuming I can pry them away from their recent fascination," she said with an eye roll.

"He needs to not be here anymore," Emerson said darkly. "Once the other children get wind of him, they'll tear him apart." The bastard noble had quite a lot of experience with the cruelty of children who perceived a peer as being unworthy or unequal.

"I am aware," Roysa returned sharply. "But our new queen and her ladies seem to think he ought to stay until he is completely healed from not only the attack, but every malady he has ever suffered in his lifetime, no matter how slight."

"I'm sure once you let them see the royal apartments, they won't be so bothered about him," Emerson proposed, and the look Roysa gave him was withering.

"Gods! Not because women are simple minded creatures who can only focus on one thing at a time," he said with exasperation. "But because you've been preventing from doing what they think is their duty- If I was shipped off to a foreign land with little to do, I'd fixate on whatever I could get ahold of, too," he reasoned. "Let them fawn over Her Majesty and their concerns about her, and they'll be less interested in the boy."

Roysa made a humming noise that might have been agreement.

"There's still work to be done in the upper level though," Roysa said, thinking of how she could schedule it so the ladies would never see the workers pass through. "The bedroom and the nursery are fine, but-"

"Just have them take the paneling down from the nursery and put it in Her Majesty's sitting room," Emerson suggested, looking quite pleased with himself.

"The rooms are different dimensions," Roysa shot back, looking at Emerson like he was utterly daft. "And then the nursery would be unfinished."

"So? They aren't going to need it for awhile. A year, at least. Personally, I'm betting two and a half years before there's even a need to get the nursery aired out and ready to be used," Emerson said.

"I will remind you," Roysa said icily. "That the validity of a marriage in Beleth is inherently tied to its consummation, and to have a close associate of the king placing wagers on the matter would be disastrous in a multitude of ways-"

"You'll be relieved to know I gave quite long odds on them waiting until even the second day after the wedding," Emerson interrupted. "No one in the pool even implied they'd leave the suite... Not validated. I think the concept is too absurd to have even crossed their minds."

Roysa was unsure if he was joking about a betting pool or not, and even more unsure if she wanted to actually know.

"I was speaking figuratively," Emerson continued. "If there's any betting on the arrival of an heir, I've yet to hear of it. I'm sure you will have ample time to complete the nursery, at any rate. Your nephew's interest in his bride is presumably secondary to his well ingrained habit of ignoring such interests."

"I prefer to be prepared," she informed the young man. "A marriage is a different sort of relationship altogether from whatever sort of nonsense you have been trying to get him to indulge in. Duty and obligation are of more import than things like interest."

"If you'd seen the things I have, you'd feel differently," Emerson told her, pleased at the chance to embarrass the usually imperturbable woman. "I've never met a man so steadfastly determined to be unaware- Once we were at an early morning meeting with his generals and he was standing too close to the map table when-"

"Enough," Roysa scolded. "Have you anything to actually speak with me about, or are you just here to be a nuisance?"

"The second one, mostly," Emerson retorted, though he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few folded sheets of paper to hand over to her, which she took without looking at. "And I thought you should know, it seems the Baroness has elected to stay in the capitol a few more days than expected," he reported casually.

Roysa frowned at that. "I assume you mean the one we would expect to spend as little time here as possible?"

"That's the one."

"What is she playing at," Roysa muttered in annoyance.

"She's scheduled a few visits with merchants in the city over the next few days," Emerson said, which wasn't inherently suspicious. "I'll see what else I can find out, though," he promised.

"Anything else of note?"

"...I don't think we should trust Cromwell," Emerson said after a moment of consideration, and Roysa looked concerned.

"Why? What has he done," she demanded.

"Nothing, yet. That I know of," Emerson admitted with a shrug. "But he's hiding something. He gives me... A bad sort of feeling. But His Majesty is determined to trust him, it seems. I think he feels that to do otherwise would be a slight to Her Majesty."

"Hmm," Roysa said. "As evidenced by your presence in his life, I think we can both agree that His Majesty is not the best judge of character," she said, and Emerson grinned sharply. "You may investigate further if it is convenient, but do not expect my assistance if you do something stupid," she warned, and Emerson laughed as he stood.

"What has possibly given you the belief that I am prone to doing stupid things," he asked rhetorically, and she affected an impressive glare that softened only slightly when he bowed to kiss her hand in farewell.

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle, Wedding Suite
Interacting: Meera and Avery

Avery hadn’t really meant to sleep that long. He hadn’t really meant to sleep at all- He’d been tired, of course, but the nap was mostly an excuse to get out of the conversation.


He’d woken slightly sometime in the evening to the sound of someone moving about, and he’d remembered something about dinner- But his body had decided he wasn’t hungry enough to be bothered, and his brain had decided there was no threat, and he’d promptly turned over and fallen back asleep.


He woke in the morning in much the same way, slowly and in pieces, with his senses becoming aware before his brain did.


He was warm, but not unpleasantly so, most of it body heat from where he lay alongside his partner, his arm across her waist. He wasn’t awake enough yet to feel self conscious that he’d been pressing himself up against her in his sleep, though he slowed the rutting movement when he became aware of it.


“Need that hand back, darling,” he mumbled, using his nose to part her hair and place open kisses along her neck as he carefully tried to extract his arm from the tangle of hers.


“Mmmmm.” Meera groaned, shifting, dreamily starting to wake up to the pleasant sensation.


She smelled like roses which was nice, if… Unusual. He breathed in deeply through his nose as his kisses went further down towards her collar, his mind starting to add up the information from his senses into a picture that didn’t quite make sense.


She usually tended to smell like the juniper Merid used in its soap production, for instance. And instead of fine silken strands, his face was against something much denser and took up far more space.


He realized his mistake too quickly, and yanked his hand away as he scrambled to get out of the bed. But he’d turned too much in the night and the blankets had tangled about his feet, and he somehow tripped over himself in his efforts, and pulled one of the blankets with him to the

ground.


“Godsdamn,” he swore quietly to himself from the floor, afraid to move any further. Maybe she had slept through that.


Meera shot up at the sudden commotion, startled, no longer in the slow and languid process of waking up the nice way. She looked around for the source of this rude awakening and her body more than her brain realized what had happened.


“What.” Meera crawled over to the edge of the bed, “Was that all about?... And were you… never mind. You’re fine aren’t you.” Meera’s fingers traced her neck but stopped once she thought better of it. For a bit there she had thought it was someone else in bed with her, but that was impossible.


She extended her hand to help him up, her face still scrunched up from the grogginess, she was never going to be a morning person.


“Yes! I’m fine,” Avery agreed quickly. “No need, I’m fine,” he reiterated, untangling his legs from the treacherous blanket and righting himself as elegantly as he could. Standing on his feet while she was still on the bed put her eyeline exactly where he didn’t want it though, he realized after a moment, and he snatched up the blanket again quickly to wrap around himself. “Um. Sorry. About that.”


She leaned back and turned her head, but sadly was unable to avert her eyes, her brain was still slow.


“It’s only natural, men get like that in the morning. Though I suppose a congratulations are in order.” She unceremoniously choked on her own humor.


“That was a rude awakening but I suppose it is time to get up.” She flopped back over, stretching, “Is breakfast here?” she wondered aloud, yawning.


“Uh- Why don’t I go check,” he said, happy to have an excuse to leave.


He was grateful that Mathilde had left the tray in the sitting room and not stuck around to chat- She would have had something to say about him sleeping in his clothes, doubtless, and perhaps made a few well-meaning suggestions about how he could better spend his time with his wife instead of eating breakfast, once she’d appraised his situation.


It was, as Meera had pointed out, perfectly natural. Though according to Emerson, Avery’s morning routine represented ‘a consistency in both frequency and persistence that most men would find enviable, provided they did not also possess your inconveniently puritanical values’. Which was an exaggeration on all accounts, Avery was sure, and probably supposed to be funny. Natural or not, though, he did adjust himself so it was hopefully a bit less obvious before heading back into the room with the tray of food, which he placed on the small table.


“Breakfast is here,” he announced, in case she had been avoiding looking in his direction as much as he had been avoiding looking in hers.


She hadn’t, in fact she’d rolled over and watched him the entire time, thinking. Now that the crust in her eyes was gone and her head was clear she realized what had been going on. She had felt kisses on her neck earlier and they most certainly had not come from Brutus, her long lost fiance. No, that’d been Averett waking up, and then he’d become startled, because he was next to someone he didn’t expect. So who was it he’d been expecting? Meera was aware of Gilda, a Lady from a Barony called Merid, but that engagement had ended long before the one between her and Averett had began. Could it be someone else?


Meera crawled off of the bed, retrieving her robe and doing her best to pat down her hair in the mirror, “Oh good, they make excellent breakfast here you know. In Theren breakfast tends to be light, fruit and some bread perhaps. But in Beleth you eat all sorts of things for breakfast and I’m beginning to quite like it.” Meera mused as she came over, looking like the cat who had gotten its creme.


“So, who’s darling?” She asked, smiling a little as she popped a piece of sausage in her mouth, filling her plate. “It couldn’t have been me. You were startled. And I thought you were someone else too. But at least for me it’s obvious who. You on the other hand?” She looked at him, amused.


Avery had been intent on doing the polite thing, which was to steadfastly ignore the entire debacle and never mention it again. Meera, unfortunately, seemed to have other ideas. She almost seemed to be amused by it, which Avery was obviously reading incorrectly.


“No one,” he replied too quickly. “It’s nothing. It won’t happen again- The bed in our apartment will be much larger. Or I can sleep in my study if you would prefer.”


He was angry at himself for having slept so long- Had he been expecting her to take the bed roll? Instead she’d forced herself to lay down next to a man she hated, and he’d done very little to prove she shouldn’t feel that way.


“She watched him as she chewed, only growing more amused.


“I will make sure the kitchen continues to supply you with a range of choices,” he said in an obvious bid to change the subject before he could find something to put in his own mouth and therefore prevent himself for saying anything else stupid.


She swallowed and languidly took a drink of the juice, which also tasted fantastic despite not being alcoholic. “Oh come on, don’t be like that. It was just a simple confusion. I’m sorry. There, all better now?” She made fun of him a little with her voice.


“I didn’t wake you last night because you were sleeping like a babe, I felt bad that you’d been sleeping on the floor all this time. And then it got late so…” She shrugged, “You were right, you don’t snore.”


She took a few more bites, rolling her eyes at how good the damned food was, “It really is good.” She said before she took another sip.


“Please don’t sleep on any more floors or desks or studies on my behalf, just sleep in the bed already if I have to see you unroll that bedroll one more time I’m going to wince in pain.” She exaggerated, though meaning the sentiment.


Avery’s eyes narrowed slightly as she spoke. Had she been… Making fun of him?


“I’ve slept on much worse, many times before,” Avery replied evenly.


“Then sleep on better.” Meera chirped back, grinning despite herself.


“I am accustomed to seeing humor used as a defensive mechanism,” Avery said slowly. “And I think I should clarify that- despite what you might think of me,” he said, perhaps a touch bitterly. “I have little interest in ‘forcing myself’ on my partners. Even if I may have briefly confused them for someone else.”


The grin was quickly wiped off of Meera’s face, “Oh. That.”, she cleared her throat.


“I said that in anger to tell you the truth. I mean… I had been prepared for that, more or less, I figured if I pretended to like it the King couldn’t really be forcing himself on me could he? But you, I suppose I didn’t really consider to have that notion necessarily. Just that I was angry and frustrated. I’m used to a certain amount of freedom. I could walk freely in Delphi’s city, I was outside quite a bit, the rooms in Delphi Keep are very open and the windows almost as big as a wall. Being so angry and shut inside a room with nothing to do... I felt cornered. I apologize for that.” She said levelly, licking her lips.


Avery supposed that made sense- He could understand her anger.


“After I could at least occupy my mind I began to feel much better, and then last night we were able to work out an agreement, a momentous one, which is surely progress. And when I think back on it, you can’t be an especially skillful actor you’re much too serious for that, so my first impression of you has to be more correct than the second one.” She didn’t quite know her string of thoughts would lead her to that conclusion, but here she was, saying what she was thinking quite plainly and surprising even herself in where that took her.


“I suppose that’s a long winded way of saying you can sleep in the bed, I don’t think you’ll force yourself on me.” She rounded back to the point, shrugging and shaking her head.


“Well. That’s… Good,” Avery said, somewhat lamely. He didn’t really know what else to say- He had sort of thought she might be mad at him again. He might even have been hoping for it, since it would get him out of further conversation and allow him to feel indignant about it.


“You have the tact of a poet.” She chuckled lightly at Avery’s expense.


“I have not had much need for poetry,” he allowed. Elion had been a confident speaker, and even shy Novius had often been more eloquent, his scholarly endeavors enriching his language.


He paused for a moment, considering her earlier comments and the way he had avoided them. Perhaps it would be a gesture of good will to answer them?


“My engagement to Lady Gilda has been my most serious relationship,” he eventually admitted. It seemed too rude to Meera - and too painful for him- to plainly admit he’d hoped it had been Gilda in his arms this morning, instead of his wife.


“She’s darling?” Meera asked carefully, feeling very sympathetic, and it showed on her face. “I had heard… an awful account of why you two never wed but I would be terribly confused about your character if it were the truth. Not that I’m not… confused in any case.” Her mind wandered to Brutus, he’d always have to have her in the morning. She loved that about him, he called it their ‘morning delight’. She missed his comfort still.


“She felt… That she was no longer suited to be my wife,” Avery said, and then rushed to clarify, “Because of my increased duties in my brother’s court. I attempted to convince her otherwise, but it is difficult to maintain a relationship when both your intended and your king wish for you to break it off,” he said wryly.


She nodded slowly, “How sad…” It had been a similar event for Brutus and herself, though it was her council that had wanted to break them apart. And Brutus had wanted to rage against them as well. It was she who had ultimately broken it off. Giving permission to Lord Blackbird to do what was necessary, in the end resulting in guards throwing him out of the castle. She’d had to sign a letter of banishment from court. It had made her feel monstrous.


“To lost loves.” She held her cup up to Avery, who raised his as well, and drank deeply.

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Chancellor Cromwell

Location: Redhill Castle | Interacting with: The Queen's Ladies

Cromwell’s long strides echoed on the tall walls as he swiftly made his way towards the many stairs that led to the rooms that had been allotted for the Queen’s ladies. Having come back from the city he was still with his riding coat and gloves.

He spun around and paused, staring at a passing servant, who noticed and immediately slowed to a stop and began to look nervous under the sudden scrutiny.

“My lord?” He asked uncertainly.

“That pup you’re holding, it’s young, where are you taking it?” Cromwell inquired.

“It’s… a runt my lord, generally…” He trailed off, gesturing and attempting to convey without outright saying it. Litters were generally culled of runts and weaker pups when they were large and especially in the case of palace hounds who were expected to be the cream of the crop in terms of breeding and training.

“Mm.” Cromwell grunted, he strode forward and scooped the pup out of the servant’s hands. “Send a basket and warm goat’s milk to my office. There’ll be coin in it for your trouble.”

“Yes my lord straight away.” The servant had seemed unsure for a moment but the mention of coin certainly put that sense of cooperation in his demeanor. It wasn’t as though anyone was going to miss a runt anyway, the visiting Chancellor could do as he pleased.

Cromwell tucked the small creature inside his coat, in between the leather bound folder so his tucked arm held him firmly in place, the folder pretty much hid the bulge unless you were looking for it. The pup was quiet as a mouse, not protesting in the slightest.

Situated, Cromwell resumed the long walk up to the rooms. It was interesting if a little perturbing that the Redhill Keep was taller than Delphi’s, though Delphi’s was bigger in terms of surface area. Besides the tower the castle in Delphi was barely three stories. An excess of stairs weren’t on the architect’s mind when building it. Considering that Redhill’s city was right outside the gates he wondered which was built first, the city or the castle.

Finally at his destination Cromwell nodded at the guards, who knocked and informed the ladies he was there to see them. Lady Nyme was the one who greeted him.

“Lord Blackbird, so nice to see you again as always, do come in. Veora was reading to us, we’ve just come back from the gardens, I’ve decided Alexander is going to be an expert duelist by the time I’m done with him.” Nyme lead Cromwell into their midst, plopping down tiredly next to the boy in question and ruffling his hair.

He seemed tuckered out as well.

“Far be it from me to disrupt your pleasures ladies, I am simply here to inform you that you are invited to dine along with Lady Roysa and Princess Grace in the marriage suite.” Cromwell said, inclining his head to all of them.

“Finally, how long do they need to consummate their marriage anyway?” Mercy said exasperatedly.

“Mercy.” Veora chided.

“I heard they could take up to a month, but there’s no way Meera’s going to want to be cooped up in a room for that long. Even if the maids want to titter about how taken the King seems with her.” Lady Nyme said in a not quite ladylike manner.

“Nyme!” Veora chided more forcefully.

“Veora.” Nyme fired back.

“So who’s going to stay behind with Alexander?” Mercy cut off their bickering.

Cromwell ceased his patient silence, “There isn’t any need for that anymore. I’ve also come to tell you that the Queen has expressly ordered that the boy is to stay at least until she is back, and definitely till he is healed. You may cease guarding him as though I aim to kidnap him under your noses.”

“Oh don’t pretend that isn’t exactly what you were going to do Lord Blackbird, you forget that we know you too well.” Lady Nyme fixed him with a knowing, teasing look.

The other two ladies agreed. Which was fair, as they were entirely correct. Cromwell had been having the boy doggedly watched for a moment alone so that he could stuff him on that carriage still waiting for his departure and send him off.

Cromwell was none too fond of having a loose end so close to him.

He inclined his head. “Regardless, I obey the Queen in all things. So you may all attend without concern, as I am sure the Queen desires. She is bound to miss your colorful company.”

“We will be delighted.” Lady Veora answered.

“What is that moving in your coat Lord Blackbird?” Mercy inquired, shifting to peak at him.

Much to Cromwell’s dread, the next fifteen minutes were spent with three ladies and a boy fawning over the tiny creature in his coat. To which he attempted to come up with several excuses for having. And when he finally disentangled himself from the cooing mob he hurried to his office for some damn peace. He was not going soft, as the ladies insisted, no, simply put he saw use in the investment of a hound. That was all.

A basket with a pillow and small blanket were waiting next to the roaring fire in Cromwell’s office, which was being freshly stoked by the servant from earlier.

“The uh, the pup has to keep warm my lord or it won’t make it.” He explained.

“Good initiative, here.” Cromwell reached into his pocket to draw out a gold coin, “See to it that the milk is brought to my office regularly, I’m sure the kitchen’s can manage.” He said as he flipped the coin up in the air, the servant catching it and nodding.

“It’ll be done my lord.” He bowed and left Cromwell to the task of tucking the pup into its new bed.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Avarett

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: King Averett, Queen Meera & Her Ladies Veora, Nyme, and Mercidea

For the first time in forever, it had only been three days but it had certainly felt like forever, Meera had been brought proper clothes. They were informed that dinner was being arranged for the family and Meera’s ladies, which put Meera in an extremely happy mood. She couldn’t stop grinning and humming as she spent time primping herself. She wasn’t out of her wretched prison. But it was something.

The vague noises of servants setting the table in the other room could be heard as Meera worked on her hair.

“I wonder what changed Lady Roysa’s mind? She doesn’t seem like the type to budge…” Meera wondered aloud to Avery.

“She doesn’t much care for surprises,” Avery admitted. “But given enough forewarning, she is amiable to suggestions,” he said. He’d been the one to insist that Meera’s ladies be allowed to take a meal with her- Of course he’d hoped they might do a breakfast as originally planned, and he could feign sleep in the other room. But Roysa had agreed only on the condition that Avery also have guests, so she and Grace would be joining them as well.

The chances of the evening not becoming a complete and utter disaster were quite slim in Avery’s opinion, though at least Meera seemed excited at the prospect.

For the servants, this meal was something of a challenge- The wedding suite was infrequently used and was the smallest suite in the castle, at least in terms of number of rooms. Only the bedroom and the sitting room, and not even a guard room, as it had been built in the castle earlier periods, when it had not yet been the practice to ensure each suite was self contained and had a designated space for security to stand so they didn’t clutter up the halls. There was at least a dumbwaiter on the same level not too far off, but it was smaller than others in the castle, and not particularly near to any of the kitchens currently in use.

This was a bit annoying, of course, but the meals for couples in the wedding suite were generally not the sort that needed to be consumed immediately before going cold, so they could eat at their leisure between rounds of newlywed activities. And of course, those meals were only ever for two people, even if they were generous servings. A proper dinner with courses and seven diners was another matter altogether.

The seven diners was another issue. A square table had been found along with a third couch to match the two already in the sitting room, and once the furniture had been heaved up the many stairs and into the room, the space seemed much smaller than it previously had. Unfortunately, the single chairs that matched the low sofas were all in suites still housing wedding guests, and could not be acquisitioned. Instead a different one had been brought for the King to sit in on his side of the table, slightly taller than it perhaps should have been. The servants very much hoped he would not have to slouch too much to eat, and that if did, he wouldn’t be too angry about it.

There was a certain amount of notice that Meera paid to all of this fuss, and she’d be lying if there wasn’t a certain amount of vindictive pleasure she gained from watching the servants struggle to make do with the space they had. But as unfair and cruel such as such pleasure was, she was reminded minute by minute that this was hardly her responsibility. Had she had her way, she wouldn’t be confined here and they wouldn’t need to struggle to accomodate guests. Had she had her way, she’d be out riding to decompress instead of building odd tension in these intimate apartments. Had she had her way, there would be a very different man sharing apartments with her to begin with. A handsome Captain who - wait no, champion, who...

She lost her train of thought, her shoulder stung as she strained it too much, a waterfall braid was already a complicated matter to do yourself, but her arm was making it impossible.

Meera stopped humming and let her arms slump down. Staring at the bandage on her right shoulder for a moment she decided that it was perhaps time to take it off and let it air out. The skin around the bandage felt raw and puffy too, once she finished unwrapping it. She studied how it was healing, there were a few stitches put in by the castle’s physician but he warned her that it was most likely to scar. She wasn’t put off by the prospect personally, in Theren warriors wore their scars proudly. She was no warrior but the sentiment to her was the same, but in Beleth there appeared to be a different approach to scars. Or at least when it came to scars on women. A few people had, despite doing her best to hide the bandage under cloth, noticed at the feast following her wedding. Concern for her perfect skin was noted.

She traced the cut with her fingers lightly, thinking back to the attack and Captain Vee… how safe he’d made her feel, how grateful she had been to him and how she had thought him so kind and honorable… his arms had been so warm and his blushes so cute.

She wished he were here.

Well, he sort of was here wasn’t he? He just turned out to be a lying cad. - Perhaps that was unfair. But spirits was she still angry about it sometimes. Normally she could do something about her anger, she could cool off in various ways, but this imprisonment sidelined any of those methods. Was she even really still actually angry or was she just feeling stubborn about it? She couldn’t be stubborn forever. She’d already chosen to move past it hadn’t she?

“I miss Captain Vee.” She said aloud, surprising herself, she stiffened.

Avery had been on the other side of the room, fiddling with his buttons and racking his brain for safe conversation topics that everyone might be able to contribute to and also would not start some sort of pass aggressive holding pattern between his wife and her ladies against his aunt, and coming up with very few. He looked up when he heard Meera speak.

“Hmm? Did you say something,” he said absently. He thought he’d heard his nickname, but that seemed unlikely, considering it was only him and Meera still. His eyes narrowed in concern when he saw she’d undone the the bandage around her arm.

She didn’t respond.

“Is it hurting you,” he asked, crossing the room in a few long strides. “It’s not unusual for it to cause you some pain still, but if it persists we may need to worry about an infection-”

He’d raised his hand to inspect the wound and then seemed to think better of it, and just stood there hovering just outside her personal space instead.

Meera recalled how not too long ago, it had been him who had dressed her wound, they had been far closer and more intimate then. Her instinct was to pretend that she hadn’t said anything important, to protect her feelings from a possible rejection. But… she really did miss her Captain, and relationships were never built by being a coward. She closed her mouth and turned to him, taking a breath.

“I suppose no more than is normal, but that isn’t what I said.” She felt a flush begin to kreep up her cheeks, her voice small.

“To tell you the truth… I was just lamenting…” She averted her eyes back to the mirror.

“That I miss the Captain Vee, he was… very sweet. We used to talk.” She finished, shrugging and looking up to study his expression.

Avery looked confused for a moment, and then very unsure. He knew that she knew who he was- They had had quite a fight about it only a few nights before. He didn’t understand why she would say that, especially in such an odd way, but it seemed important that he respond and she was watching him intently.

“I- I imagine he enjoyed being able to talk to you as well,” Avery hedged, waiting for her to roll her eyes at the pretense. “Especially as he was very in his element when you met him, with a goal he knew his talents might actually achieve. But keeping a queen safe is very different from keeping her happy,” he said hesitantly, by way of explanation.

He wasn’t surprised that she’d liked him better on the road- He’d liked himself better, too. It was easier, when he’d known what he wanted and how to get it, and the obstacles had been clear. Court and relationships and political dynamics and everything that went along with being King- Those were not his forte.

“But maybe,” he suggested, even more hesitantly, “If he knew what it was you had appreciated from him- He could… be sweet for you again?”

He winced as he said it, immensely aware of how stupid he must sound. At least Emerson wasn’t here to file it away in that near-perfect memory of his, and use it to mock Avery with for weeks to come.

Meera’s chest tightened as a smile, an actually genuine one that came so very easy, bloomed on her face. Her hand reached out towards his.

“See there he is, he is thoughtful and honest with how he fee-” A bang startled her, so engrossed in Avery’s microexpressions was she that it made her jump, her fingers had almost closed on his own. Almost.

“Oh your Majestiiiiiiieeeeeessss! Are you decent? Or are you too busy tumbling in the sheets like the whole castle thinks you are. It’s all anyone has been talking about for days. They say you’re passionately in - oh hi.” Lady Nyme ceased her verbal assault on the door separating the sollar from the bedroom as soon as it opened to an irritated Meera.

Meera stared Nyme down for about a half a second before breaking into a grin and pulling her into a hug, both laughing.

“Sorry, Nyme insisted on being a pest.” Lady Veora politely waited behind them.

“Doesn’t she always…” Mercy didn’t wait, sweeping into the bedroom and looking around unabashedly, curious to see where they had been kept away from for days on end. She’d heard it called a private lover’s paradise by the pretty kitchen maid she’d made friends with before. She thought the reality was anticlimactic if she was being honest with herself.

“Mercy, for your ancestor’s sake.” Veora came in after her and immediately noticed the King.

“Your grace.” She grabbed Mercy to her side and forced her to curtsy with her, which Mercy did but was still too busy regarding to room to demurely tilt her head and give the King the attention he was due.

“Ladies, King Avery, who you have met before.” Meera pulled Nyme in and shut the door.

If Avery had been feeling not particularly sure-footed before, he was absolutely stumbling now.

“Uh- Welcome,” he said, with what he hoped was a smile but was almost certainly a grimace.

Why were they in the room? With the door shut? Didn’t Meera know better?

He was trapped, and his aunt would be along any moment and have his head on a platter, he was sure of it. Her lecture would be scathing, and he was unsure if he or the ladies would get the worst of it. Likely Meera, he supposed, as Roysa would deem the girls as either too ignorant or too inappropriate to continue serving a Beleth queen.

He stepped away from Meera hastily to reopen the door, and gestured out into the sitting room with a wave of his arms.

“Ladies, please do take a seat,” he said as genially as possible, moving his hand a bit further to indicate the couches placed around the table. “I’m sure refreshments will be along shortly.”

Thank the gods they weren’t here already- He trusted most of his personal staff, but he didn’t know who all might be serving tonight. And even worse than his aunt knowing, would be anyone else in the castle knowing the King had had other women in his marriage suite. As Nyme had noted, people in castles did love to talk.

Meera eyed him like he was crazy. Not at all understanding why she couldn’t have her ladies with her. Not at all understanding that in Beleth, with her married, there might have to be boundaries where there were none before.

“And leave her hair like this?! Your grace surely you jest.” Nyme, quick as she was, twisted a strand on her Queen’s hair around a finger.

“Are you good at hair?” Mercy chipped in an innocent voice, knowing full well she was piling on.

“Uh- Her hair looks very nice,” Avery attempted to protest- Some sort of intricate braid that seemed perfectly serviceable, in his opinion, for what was essentially a family dinner.

Veora diplomatically kept her mouth shut, though kept Mercy’s skirts still in her grip, ready to pull her away and out of the room if necessary. Out of the four of them it was perhaps she who best understood that things were different now. Though she’d be lying if she didn’t still desire to greedily hang on to the precious moments that they could remain as they were. Audaciously abusing the privileges being a Queen’s lady gave them. Well behaved and mature as she was, she too enjoyed her station to its fullest.

“I need them.” Meera stated simply, nailing the coffin shut.

“Then I shall leave you to it,” he decided, anxious to be out of the room but not willing to command Meera to leave it as well. He retreated into the anteroom with as much grace as he could summon- very little- and then promptly considered if he had simply put himself in an even worse position.

To have four women in your marriage suite with you was very improper, of course, but to have four women in your marriage suite without you seemed also… Not great.

Hopefully, they would finish fixing her hair quickly and be out momentarily- Roysa was only ever prompt and wouldn’t arrive for a few minutes still, dragging Grace in her wake, and perhaps they could all be seated by then.

------

“Did we just kick the King out of his own marriage suite?” Lady Veora had the wherewithal to ask.

“No. I just needed help with my hair.” Meera countered.

“Yes, all three of us, she has a lot of it you know.” Mercy added

“Precisely.” Nyme assured her sister, utterly shameless.

“Yes, well, let me finish that waterfall braid for you, seeing as how no one else here is any good at waterfalls.” Lady Veora concluded, much to everyone’s relief. If anyone could have thwarted them it would be her, and besides, despite her simple hairstyles anyone in the Queen’s service was half so good as Veora’s deft fingers were at braids.

“None of you have to worry anyway, it’s not as though he’ll deny me.” Meera offered, as they all situated themselves in front of her vanity.

“Lady Roysa would, you know she finally let us see part of your rooms?” Nyme cut off Veora from saying anything else, believing her complaint to be more important than whatever wisdom her older sister was about to impart on them.

“Oh yes we finally saw them! And you know I found out why we’ve been kept from seeing it all this time too. Not that you couldn’t tell if you saw them when you entered anyway. It’s all brand new.” Mercy began explaining as Meera lifted an eyebrow at her, head held tilted to the side as Veora worked on her hair.

“It even smells new, I have to say I didn’t really believe Mercy when she told us this theory of hers but I think she’s right. We’re raising her clever after all.” Nyme said.

“It isn’t a theory Nyme I’ve confirmed it with my sources and it’s obvious anyway.” Mercy fired back, offended.

“Sources? Our Mercy has sources now? Colour me surprised.” Nyme turned away from her.

“I suppose that explains why we’ve had to stay in these rooms all this time. I thought it was simply custom. But in truth…” Meera realized.

“You mean, you haven’t been consummating your marriage this whole time?”

All three of Meera’s ladies froze, staring at her through the mirror.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Avarett

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: King Averett, Queen Meera & Her Ladies Veora, Nyme, and Mercidea & Princess Graceling, Lady Roysa

“The Princess Graceling held petitioner’s court yesterday, apparently she’s been doing it for quite some time. Whomsoever marries into the crown, namely you now, or a family member would do it. It’s held monthly at least, but lately has been held more often, due to the number of cases.” Nyme explained.

“Apparently she quite likes it, and the people like her, she’s considered very fair and just. You have big slippers to fill, but…” Nyme leveled with her.

“It’s an opportunity. That’s what I need, perhaps she can hold it with me for a while, it’d be a good way to work more closely with the Princess too.” Meera did not particularly fancy kicking the Princess Grace out of a position she enjoyed, but at the moment Meera was quite hated throughout the Kingdom, and desperately needed the opportunity to prove herself. It would help to have the Princess next to her for multiple reasons though, to siphon off her popularity, legitimize her decisions, and soften any criticism of the job she was doing. To insult her judgement would be to also insult the Princess Graceling’s.

“How many times was it held this month?” She asked.

“Twice.” Nyme concluded.

Meera would hold it at least thrice for a while, if not more. She was eager to ensure the line to petition the court would not be long, there were many things that could be said about her but lazy would not be one of them. The question now would be whether she should have Nyme or Mercy keep an eye on the comings and going of it and the capital.

“Mercy. You’ve already been in the thick of Cokinos’s streets correct?”

“Did it yesterday too.” Lady Mercy confirmed.

“You’ll be my eyes and ears in the city. Nyme, Veora, I need you focused on the court, Mercy can keep an eye on Alexander when she’s not busy. Cromwell may have backed off of him but you know how he strikes when your guard is down. Hopefully I’ll be out of here myself soon. I have a bone to pick with that man.” She huffed.

“What did he do?” Nyme asked in a tone of voice that was far too high to be innocent.

“You’d laugh at me if I told you, better I don’t, and we should go out to dinner my hair has been done for a while too long to justify this much time.” Meera stood up and brushed off her skirt.

---

Whatever else Meera and her ladies might be discussing, Avery was unaware- The stone walls and the heavy door, once shut, did not allow for conversation to carry through into the anteroom.

He sat down in what he knew to be his own chair- The side of the table with only one plate setting on it. It was a bit tall but he would manage. It would be odd, he thought, to have Meera on his right instead of his aunt, whose steady presence he had come to rely on since he had become King. Banquets and meetings and dinners and pretty much any time he was in Redhill, he knew where to find her, surveying the situation as Regent Queen.

But it was not a role she enjoyed, he knew, and not the best use of her either. She’d only served as such because he’d needed her guidance. He was grateful that anytime she’d argued against his marrying Meera, she’d never implied that it was because she thought he still needed her own oversight. Her issues with him taking a proper queen had been with the queen in question, and not doubts that he was ready for it.

Grace would sit on his left- Admittedly she could usually get away with whatever she pleased and few would take offense, but it was traditional for the monarch’s heir to be seated on their other side.

He heard her voice in the hall, talking excitedly with a low murmur that was certainly Roysa’s, and stood before they arrived.

Grace beamed at him, and hugged him, though Roysa’s face wore a slight frown.

“I would expect her ladies to be more prompt, considering,” Roysa said.

“They’re already here,” Avery told her. “They’re… In the room. Helping Her Majesty prepare for dinner,” he explained.

Grace’s hand flew to her lips to contain a surprised laugh, and Roysa’s frown deepened.

“How… Unusual,” she said.

“I’m sure they just don’t realize,” Grace said quickly, once she had recovered. “It’s only a misunderstanding, Auntie- They seem so very used to having access to her at all times. The way our servants would… But more so.”

Even servants would not enter a marriage suite unless they had been specifically requested to, and only for hurried tasks.

“I’ll explain it to them later, privately,” Grace offered, putting her hand on Roysa’s folded arms. “So they know to keep it to themselves. And not do it in the future.”

Roysa did not look appeased.

“The servers will be here with the first course momentarily,” she pointed out, and Grace patted her hand on her aunt’s arm again.

“This dining staff has been serving our family for years, I think we can trust them to understand that mistakes happen. And to be discrete regardless,” she reassured her.

“Longevity of service is not an indicator of tight lips,” Roysa pointed out, and Grace’s eyes narrowed, and she stomped a foot before wagging her finger at her aunt in indignation.

“Don’t bring Mathilde into this! You were the one who put her in an uncomfortable position in the first place,” Grace accused, “And she behaved exactly as you hoped she would! So you don’t get to pretend to be offended,” she finished pointedly, and Avery couldn’t help but grin a bit.

The old woman had been a maid to both Grace and Avery growing up and served them for years, and they were both quite fond of her- Avery completely understood why Roysa had selected her to bring them their first post-marriage breakfast, but he agreed it was unfair of his aunt to pretend that she hadn’t been relying on Mathilde’s inability to tell a lie and her habit of going red in the face and blurting out something she shouldn’t have when discussing the private lives of her monarchs.

“Fine,” Roysa relented, aware she was outnumbered and the fight wasn’t worth picking anyways- Presumably there would be other things she’d prefer to get her way with tonight.

“The royal apartments will be ready to move into tomorrow afternoon,” Roysa said, and Avery breathed a sigh of relief. He’d told Meera five, but tonight being their fourth and final night in the marriage suite was more than all right with him, and he guessed she would not be upset to leave either.

“That’s wonderful news, thank you,” he said.

“What’s wonderful news husband?” Meera asked, the doors opening to allow her and her ladies to file in. Veora the last, who shut it just as quietly as she opened it

“That your apartments will be ready to move into tomorrow afternoon! And it’s supposed to be nice out,” Grace said excitedly, “So you can see your gardens! We had a new staircase built on the exterior of the tower for private access, but I’ve had the gardners hold off on planting any of the arrangements from the wedding since I wasn’t sure which were your favorites,” she continued, oblivious to her aunt’s exasperation.

“How Wonderful!” Meera’s smile was wide, it’s true that she partially knew about her apartments and why she was being cooped up here but to be able to organize the gardens afterward was almost entirely worth the horrid ordeal.

Had her ladies heard her thoughts they would’ve thought that a bit dramatic. But none of them had to be cooped up in a bedroom for three days.

“The food will be here shortly,” Avery said, “Let us be seated before Grace begins listing every flowering shrub she knows,” he said with a hint of a smile, and Grace grinned at him.

“Just because you do not know the difference between a rose and a dandelion, Vee, honestly,” she teased back, going to stand behind where she would sit but not waiting to do so until her monarchs did. She also became aware of her aunt’s gaze on the back of her head.

“Well I should expect that the Princess Grace will be there to help me nonetheless, given we both properly appreciate the importance of such shrubs.” Meera added in, winking at the Princess.

“Your Majesties,” Roysa said demurely, bowing slightly. “Thank you for having us for dinner.”

“Oh! Yes, Your Majesties,” Grace said hurriedly, echoing the bow, “The invitation is much appreciated.”

“We’re…” Meera made her way over to Avery’s right hand side, “Pleased to have you of course. Lady Roysa I believe it is you I have to thank for looking after my ladies all this time. I trust they weren’t too much of a handful. I know they can be.”

Mercy was the only one of the three who could not stifle her smirk.

“Not at all,” Roysa replied evenly. “They seem to be taking to life at Redhill quite... Adeptly.”

Avery took his seat, (and the rest of the party followed suit.) The knock on the door signaled the arrival of the food and servants bustled in with bowls of soup and small salads, and pitchers of watered wine to pour into the goblets.

“I believe Lady Veora has even been invited down into the city by Baroness Ellini, to see some sort of dance troupe perform next week,” Roysa said speculatively, as though she was not aware of all the details. “Do you plan to accept the invitation, Lady Veora?”

The heads of several ladies snapped to Veora, some smiling knowingly, other’s, Meera’s, surprised. Her ladies had conveniently not mentioned anything about this invitation.

Roysa looked at Veora expectantly with dark eyes, though what answer she was hoping to hear was unknown. Grace reached for her goblet and took a large swallow of wine.

“The Baroness has been so kind to me, I wouldn’t dream of turning down her offer of course. I accepted her invitation Lady Roysa.” Veora replied demurely, sweetly, recovering quickly to the sudden attention. Truth be told she did not think she would get any of it tonight, and had been happy to simply play her part in silence, a quiet and calm presence. The sudden question from Lady Roysa was extremely unexpected, but that would be life at this court it seemed. Veora had been playing this game for a while now, she wouldn’t shrink to its challenge.

“I had worried that my ladies would not make friends as easily in a foreign kingdom, but I’m glad to hear otherwise. Though who could resist making a friend of Lady Veora, she is all elegance and thoughtfulness, we love her dearly.” Meera tipped her goblet to her before taking a sip.

And because she apparently could not resist, Lady Nyme added, “Hopefully the Baroness does not steal her away from us.”

Her sister silenced her with an even look.

“Hmm,” said Roysa neutrally, before continuing. “I do not think you need to worry too much over that fear, Lady Nyme. And perhaps focus your friend-making efforts elsewhere,” she advised. “Baroness Elleni tends to socialize in very short bursts, and only ever enough so that she cannot be said to be a hermit. She will be back to Merid soon enough, I am sure.”

“Of course Lady Roysa, if I can serve the Baroness’s purposes towards warding off such a reputation I am happy to help. Thank you for your advice.” Veora replied in that sincere way her pleasantries always sounded.

“Actually,” Grace volunteered. “I heard she was inquiring with the guard about their training schedules in the next few months. Perhaps she plans to stay at Redhill, to serve out her sentence.”

It was Avery’s turn to drink from his goblet to hide his wince. Of the very few suitable conversation topics he’d been able to come up with, Baroness Elleni’s yet-unserved punishment for abandoning her military posting was certainly not among them.

“Oh, a happy coincidence! Perhaps it is so.” Nyme directed her comment at Lady Roysa. It was a good thing the Princess innocently interjected with this information, so that Nyme wouldn’t have to and risk appearing impertinent. Not that she really feared the repercussions of doing so.

“I thought you were worried about me being stolen away sister.” Veora reminded her.

“I was just teasing my dearest sister. I do want you to make friends.” Nyme clarified.

“The Baroness Elleni’s sentence for what?” Meera directed away from the dangerous slope her ladies were taking.

“She abandoned her troops during a military campaign,” Roysa said.

That wasn’t- Well, it was somewhat accurate, Avery supposed. But they’d had other officers and she’d made her departure known, it wasn’t like she’d just left her men sitting there on a ridge mid-battle.

“Because her home was in danger,” Grace insisted to her aunt, and it was clear the young princess felt it was a noble cause. “El- King Elion cleared her of most charges, given the circumstances,” she explained. “And it was decided that she would serve her remaining sentence by training new military recruits.”

“Which she could do at a fort much closer to Merid,” Roysa pointed out. “As she has indicated is her desire. Despite not yet doing so, several years since.”

Lady Nyme caught Meera’s eye knowingly, silently making her aware that there was more to the story and that she would fill her in on the details later.

“There has been much work needed to rebuild the isle,” Avery reminded his aunt. “If I felt she was truly just using her duties as Baroness as an excuse to postpone the sentence, I would press the issue with her,” he said confidently. The look Roysa gave him indicated she felt otherwise.

Avery seemed to feel very strongly on the topic, and Meera, knowing nothing about nor caring particularly much if this noble served her sentence or not used this as an opportunity, “I’m sure you know best on this, whether she stays to serve her sentence or not.” Meera reassured her King, placing her hand on his wrist, giving it a squeeze and shrugging.

Avery was startled at this admission, and did a poor job of hiding it. He supposed it was true- Of the two of them, he was the only one who had served in Beleth’s military. But it was odd for her to defer to him so obviously. He returned to his soup for lack of anything to say in response.

“The Princess held petitioner’s court yesterday did she not? I hear you’re thought of as very just and fair Princess. We know you are fair because we have eyes, but I hope to join you soon to confirm the rest.” Meera would have to be forgiven the pun, because the Princess was indeed very pretty, “When do you next hold petitioner’s court?” She finally paid attention to her salad, as so far this dinner had been so… eventful that she hadn’t eaten anything.

“Two weeks time,” Grace answered. “It would be wonderful to have you! It would traditionally be your role, of course, if you wanted it,” she said, in case Meera didn’t know. “But you can delegate it as you wish- Aunt Roysa usually held it when our own mother was queen,” she said as an example. “And Vee joins sometimes, too, especially if there’s to be a matter involving military affairs.” Not so much these days, but Grace had fond memories of watching her aunt direct her brothers about to the people lined up to see them, like some sort of squad captain in the guard.

Meera smiled widely, “I quite enjoyed it as my role in Theren, I think I shall like it just as well here. All the better to get to know the people and their concerns. Will you be there with me? I should love to have you there to advise me where necessary.” She took a sip of wine, “And perhaps I just like your company too.” Meera admitted.

“Of course, I would be delighted to join you,” Grace agreed. “In any of your ventures! Though I must admit, it is Aunt Roysa’s advice that tends to be most helpful at the petitioner’s court, perhaps she could attend as well-”

“Nonsense,” Roysa interrupted. “I’m sure you and Your Majesty shall be more than adequate in meeting any challenges that arise.”

Though it hardly sounded like one, it was a compliment from the older woman, and Grace smiled slightly into her soup.

Meera would be lying if she did not rejoice a little bit at the news. She certainly didn’t have the opinion that her ladies had of Roysa but the woman did have a way of interceding in plans. She hadn’t forgotten the slight of being refused the company of her ladies.

She would have to find a way to build a better relationship with her, but in a more private capacity.

“Lady Roysa, I understand you’ve been at our King’s side since his reign began and at the helm of your family’s since before that. Everyone tells me that the family’s successes are often thanks to you in some capacity.” Meera paused and let the compliment sink in, “Such a reputation must have come with tireless work. The funny thing is, people can tell me all about what you do but nothing of what you like. Are the two one and the same or…?”

Roysa paused in her meal to look up at the inquiry.

“Yes, generally,” she replied, and returned to her soup.

“Perhaps you could elaborate, Aunt,” Avery prompted, when he anticipated she was not going to say more. For a woman who lectured on impertinence, she was dangerously close to embodying it herself, he thought dryly.

“Ah- Of course,” Roysa said, a bit more friendly this time. “Apologies, Your Majesty,” she told Meera, “I am unused to speaking of myself.”

It was a true enough statement, and Roysa did not tend to be descriptive in most things, unless she had found reason to scold. So perhaps she had merely been taciturn out of habit, and not rudeness.

Or, Avery thought, knowing his aunt- It had been a test, to see if Avery would protect his wife from the slights of his nobles.

“I like hunting dogs,” she said after a moment, having had to think for a moment about something she genuinely liked for her own enjoyment. “Though I’ll admit I rarely go on hunts- Horseback was never my favorite way to travel, and my dislike has increased with my age.”

Somehow that sort of amusement suited the lady very precisely, “Do you train them instead?” She asked.

“Yes,” Roysa replied. “With decoys and the assistance of some archers. And in a variety of other tasks as well- They are remarkably smart animals.”

That was more like it. Meera couldn’t for the life of her tell if that was truly all that Lady Roysa did for the sake of enjoyment or if she was choosing to closely guard what she considered personal information but Meera suspected that this was all she was going to hear of the subject tonight. It was something.

“Speaking of amusements…” Meera turned towards Avery, “I would’ve thought Lord Emerson would be here, is he well?” Of anyone that could keep the conversation lively, a task which Meera was used to but would love help with, Emerson could have been some help tonight.

Avery frowned, realizing he had no idea how his friend was doing- It was an usual situation to be in.

“I imagine Lord Emerson is still recouping from several days of excessive indulgence,” Roysa answered. “But history indicates he will recover in due time.”

“Emerson is a good friend, to whom I owe my life,” Avery added, feeling he ought to explain Emerson’s absence more thoroughly. “I am in the habit of including him when I dine with my family, but- In the formal sense, at least…”

At banquets and when they received important foreign guests and when they sat for portraits- Emerson did not count as family.

“We have already bent tradition quite a bit this week,” Grace said. “Having a family dinner in a royal marriage suite is already unheard of- To invite Emerson would be… Inappropriate.”

’And so was inviting your ladies.’, was the implication.

That… was a problem, and her worry would be more noticable had the servants not entered with the second course. The silence during this transition was tensely felt by Meera and her ladies as they glanced at one another. Not for the first time their place next to her was being questioned.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Avarett

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: King Averett & Queen Meera

Dinner came to a close and as it did Meera sent for a maid to fill the tub in their bedroom so that she could have a bath. The wash bin in their room had been fine for the morning and day before but she was eager to finally bathe properly, and given that she wasn’t particularly upset with Avarett anymore there was little reason to avoid it. Now that she was sure that truly, her husband’s farces had been a symptom of his dimness rather than his malice, which was more forgivable in her mind. Even if he refused to actually apologize.

The suite they were staying in had no partition between the sizable tub clearly meant for two and the rest of the room. She had figured the handles on the sides of it had been meant for the servants. To have an easier time carrying the thing when needed. But the positioning of these handles, upon closer inspection, were actually probably for the bather’s benefit. There would only be one occupant tonight, but she still asked for petals to be brought to sprinkle in the water. They told her that her ladies had also told them of her preference for rose oil in her bath, and that some had been acquired. She was pleased to hear it; having had brought several vials herself in her trunks somewhere it was good to know they had some in the castle too.

Her ladies tried to hang back as everyone was leaving, and Meera had to commend their effort, but Lady Roysa had seemed determined to see them out with her. Meera smiled tensely at them and bid them farewell, not liking the feeling of them torn away. She wondered momentarily if she had always been so attached to them, and the answer was a resounding yes, but perhaps more so in Beleth because they were what little bits of home she had left. A safety blanket that she kept being given only to have snatched away. She might’ve been Queen of Theren in name, but she lived in Beleth now. It hadn’t been enough, the travel here, to say goodbye. But would any length of time have been enough?

How pathetic of her, didn’t every Princess to be married off to another Kingdom go through the same thing?

Well, how many of them were marrying into a country that hated them...

She retreated into the bedroom after her ladies left and wordlessly began undoing her hair as she sat before her vanity, becoming pensive.

Avery stayed in the anteroom for a bit longer, to finish reviewing the reports he’d been looking at earlier, and pen a letter of his own. He noted the coming and going of the servants, though not with much focus- They’d leave the furniture, but there were dishes to clear and he heard Mathilde cautioning someone to be careful with the hot water, so Meera must intend to wash her hair.

“Mathilde,” he called, not looking up from his missive when she came near. “Could you bring some medicinal salve?”

The old woman frowned.
“It’s acting up again already, sir?,” she asked with quiet concern, but he shook his head.

“Ah- No. For Her Majesty’s injury,” he corrected. “Clean wraps, too, please. And when you return, I’ll have something for you to deliver to Maxwell, please.”

She nodded, and continued in her tasks.

----------------------------------------------------

A knock on the door signalled that the servants had come with the water for Meera’s bath.

She let them in, and due to the size of the tub there were several carrying large buckets. She let them do their work and retreated behind her screen to take off her dress. It was clear with the changing of the seasons and the finishing of her apartments that she would have to wear the type of dress she wore on her wedding day soon. The kind that she couldn’t slip in and out of so easily. The kind that choked your waist and was tight.

There was an elaborate beauty to them to be sure, an elegance in their silhouette and artistry in their embroidery. She would have to get used to them, somehow. Meera sighed as she tied her robe close and made her way to Mathilde.

“White and pink petals, how pretty, thank you Mathilde.” Meera tested the water with her hand, mixing it around.

“Of course your majesty, have a good night.” She curtsied sweetly and scurried off, blushing.

Meera wondered why till she remembered that the assumption was that the King was going to be taking a bath as well. With her.

She almost snorted to herself as she undid her robe, waiting till the click of the door being shut to let it fall to the floor. The water was still hot, or at least it was compared to her chilly skin, so she eased herself in slowly. It was quite a bit colder here than in Theren somehow, despite not being too far. She closed her eyes and sighed as the warmth relaxed her muscles.

In the anteroom, Mathilde reached into her apron for the fresh bandages and small pot of salve and fumbled to hand them to Avery.

“There you are, sir, good night-”

“Wait, the note,” Avery interrupted, catching her as she was fleeing to the door. “To Maxwell, without delay, please.” She seemed to be in an awful hurry to leave the suite.
“Of course,” she squeaked, taking it quickly and bowing her way out of the anteroom with haste.

Odd.

Avery rose and headed back to the bedchamber, opening the door as he said, “Well, I think that could have gone- Oh.”

In retrospect, they had really been bringing up quite a bit of water to wash only hair.

And it probably explained Mathilde’s rush to leave them alone.

Meera was lounging in the oversized tub, arms draped around the handles, eyes closed as if intending to take a nap.

“Ah- I should have… Knocked,” he said after a long moment. “Apologies.”

“Hm?” She was too relaxed for words, and didn’t open her eyes.

What had he come in here to do, he tried to recall.

Undress and get ready for bed. Yes. He could do that.

He forced his gaze away and made his way behind the partition to at least remove his jacket and unlace his boots.

Meera woke herself up fully and sat up straighter as she got no response, and heard her husband rustling about the room. Ah, he was behind the partition.

“Are you hiding? Ah yes, you’d told me it wasn’t appropriate for others to see me naked and bare. Because…” She elongated the words, “That was how my husband was supposed to see me.” Her purred voice carried and echoed a little in the careful silence of the room.

Well, she had him cornered on this one, he had to admit, he thought wryly, as he stripped to his braies and began to loosen the ties of his undershirt.

“But funny that, Captain Vee, it seems that I find myself married to y- oh ow! OW f-uck!” Meera cursed none too gracefully as she shifted to her side, allowing her injured arm to fall into the perfumed water. She had intended to tease him a little, and be smug about it, all in good playful fun before her arm started to sting something fierce. She clutched at the wound, and tried to splash more water on it, but it was doing nothing to assuage the hurt, in fact it seemed to be making it red and worse.

“What’s happened-,” Avery said, out from behind the partition in a moment. It was obvious with a glance though, and he grabbed at the supplies Mathilde had brought him, and the pitcher of drinking water from the table which spilled a bit against his chest in his haste.
Damnit, he should have thought of this- Too distracted to think of the obvious-

“Here, stop moving, let me rinse it out,” he insisted quietly as he hurriedly knelt beside the tub, dunking the bandage in the clean water. He held her arm up gently out of the water with one hand, and squeezed the soaking cloth in the other so the fresh water ran over the wound and sent the perfumed oils back into the tub. She cooperated demurely, face scrunched up in pain and indignation.

“Sorry, I should have realized- I’ve got a salve we can put on it as a sort of water-proofing, but it’s really only good for a bit of splash. You’ll just have to try not to submerge it,” he cautioned, dipping the bandage in the pitcher again and wringing it out over the wound again, his shirtsleeve dripping a bit now too.

“You know, this is probably my ancestors putting me in my place for being cheeky.” She shook her head and sighed, “That’s what I get.” Typical that in her attempt to be salacious when it really mattered and with whom it really mattered that she’d be taken down a peg or two.

“Was it something about the water? The petals or the rose oil?” She asked, shifting on her knees to be more comfortable and give him better control of her arm.

“Probably the oils,” he confirmed. “Bathwater tends to get perfumed heavily here, to help hide the scent from the springs. It can be irritating to some people’s skin, even when you don’t have an open wound,” he explained. “But especially then.”

She reached over and gave his shirt a tug, “I guess the servant’s gossip tomorrow won’t be entirely incorrect, you did get wet tonight… sorry.” She scrunched her face again, feeling embarrassed.

He followed her direction, leaning in so he could look closer at her arm. He looked up at her comment, and then let out a stifled laugh.

“Really?,” he scoffed in amusement, though there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Does it still sting?”

The area looked red and angry still, but didn’t sting so much as it throbbed, dully. “No, seems like your prompt attentions were successful… thank you for tending to me again.” She said softly.

Meera took the time to peak at him, his wet undershirt doing little to hide him now, when he wasn’t looking. He wasn’t as big and broad as her previous man but his leaner beauty suited him; he was well muscled and handsome, and his dark tanned skin was prettier than her own in her opinion. She gave a small smile to herself.

“Of course,” Avery answered. He used the dry end of the cloth to pat the area dry, and then opened the pot of salve. He smeared some on his fingers, then gently rubbed it across the wound. “There. Should be all right for the rest of the bath if you leave it be. And I’ve got more bandages, if you want to wrap it up again before you go to sleep.”

After a moment, he became acutely aware that he was leaning over into her bath, and moved back a bit. He should probably get up now. His cheeks felt very warm, but that was probably the heat of the bath water.

A tense pause impregnated the room, and Meera felt it keenly even as she shifted with her arm raised carefully above the water. The red in her cheeks was due to the excitement not… the excitement, she reasoned to herself, before stifling a laugh to herself. Who was she kidding? There was something there. Best to leave it alone though, she didn’t want to risk the tender moment becoming sour. No, she wanted to hoard it for what it was instead.

Besides, they needed to talk, “Dinner.” She stated, leaning back once more, propping her bad arm up and letting the other stir the flowers.

“How do you think it went?” She asked, plucking a petal and running it along her jawline, enjoying the softness.

“Ah,” Avery considered, a tad distracted by… Whatever it was she was doing with that flower. “Could have gone better,” he admitted. “But certainly could have gone worse. One of the first times Emerson joined my family for dinner, for instance,” he said, “He got incredibly drunk, said some very insulting things about my father to his face, and nearly ended the night in jail for his impertinence.”

A slight furrow appeared between his eyebrows- He’d meant it as a comical example, but it really wasn’t a happy memory.

“Was it what you were… Expecting,” he asked. Not what she’d been hoping for, of course, but she’d probably known that going in.

“Thank goodness it wasn’t.” Meera had been expecting reproachfulness and lectures to be honest, a list of what was expected of her and an abrasive prodding into personal details that Lord Blackbird probably had on a chart somewhere amongst his paper. Which, while irritating, was at least handled more delicately than Roysa was like to handle them.

Or maybe Meera was just more used to her Lord Blackbird’s type of abrasive. He probably had more in common with her than anyone else at that table to be sure. They both were accomplished and busy individuals dedicated to the crown.

“Though Lady Roysa does seem to take great amusement in delving into the personal intricacies of others, while loathing delving into her own… speaking of which.” Meera reached for the soap, giving it a sniff. “You do know that when your Queen makes a show of supporting you in your stance, you should probably stand strong and settle the topic being discussed instead of looking surprised and hiding your face in your soup?” She said delicately.

Avery frowned, thinking back to what she was referring to.

“About Elleni? The topic was settled,” he pointed out. Regardless if the topic had been if the baroness was skirting her sentence or if it had been whether Lady Nyme should put time into befriending her, it hadn’t come up again.

“I believe you said something about me ‘knowing best’,” Avery pointed out with a raised eyebrow and an air of skeptical amusement. “Forgive me for needing a moment to recover myself.”

“Did I really shock you so much?” She found his eyes and locked in on them, wondering how she managed to get him to think so little of her.

Avery felt a bit trapped- Not just by her gaze, but by her question. He paused for a moment, trying to come up with an answer that was both true and not rude.

“You are very surprising, yes,” he admitted. “But at the same time- I am not shocked that is the case. You are new to me, and marriage is new to me. I would have been foolish, to not expect surprises.”

“True. But still, you should know that I am heavily invested in ensuring the crown looks confident and strong. I may fight with you behind doors but it will never be my intention to-” She chuckled, “-throw shoes at you in public.” She splashed the water a little in his direction for emphasis, her chuckle turning into a laugh.

“Good to know,” Avery said lightly.

“In all seriousness, I do think we should establish how we conduct ourselves as monarchs. We’re not always going to agree and sometimes we may be having a fight of a more personal nature, but I don’t think that’s an excuse for us to have people doubt our leadership. That’s best done by appearing unified and supportive of one another’s decisions. And there is the potential in promising this to abuse each other’s trust and spring positions on one another that have not been discussed yet but I think so long as we do our best to communicate with one another and respect one another that we can avoid such follies.” Meera moved to the side of the tub closest to him and folded her arms over the handles of the edge, resting her chin there.

Her mother and father hadn’t ruled quite like that, with her mother mostly handling the affairs of state and her father more focused on military matters, but when they fought over something it was a mighty clash of titans that left everyone quaking and unsure. Especially since technically speaking her mother did not hold much legal power, it was only power and influence given to her by the King. It was his choice to allow her take care of the affairs of state, and he could take it away. Of course that would have been an immensely stupid decision as he was not as good at it as she was, and he knew it and suffered for it the one time he did.

She wanted to avoid that, and in any case Meera was beginning to understand that in Beleth she was still a ruling Queen, only of two countries now, and this division of power was the legal norm, not an anomaly of her marriage.

“Sounds… Sensible,” Avery agreed. “Though I would caution against being too in accordance- If I only ever agree with you, it shall be decided you are some shrewd witch using me for your own agenda,” he joked. “And if you only ever agree with me, it shall be decided you are a dullard, and I only married you for your pretty face.”

It did not escape his notice that it was Meera who would be slandered in either case.

“Ugh, sounds about correct.” She rolled her eyes, “Perhaps if we took turns in announcing or speaking on certain topics?”

“Speaking for myself I intend to leave most things to do with the military to you, I confess there isn’t anything I know of such matters. Well, nothing besides the basics anyhow, and that was just in Theren your military here is different.” Meera noted.

Yes, it would probably be best if Meera did not speak much on military matters- Seeing as hers had been defeated.

“That sounds fine,” Avery said. “Elion and his wife, when they would announce their rulings, he would often introduce the topic, and Ysmena would outline the details. I recall she often used the phrase ‘The Ministers and I have concluded…’, especially in the first few months.”

It had reminded everyone that all though Ysmena’s authority was derived from her marriage to the King, she was very much active in the decision-making process, and that the Council was beholden to her just as much as her husband.

Meera nodded, “Speaking of the military though, Baroness Elleni… is she... “ Meera considered her words carefully, “My ladies have come here to serve me it’s true, but they also are expected to make matches here in Beleth. And my Lady Veora, her situation is very unusual. All things considered really she should have been long married by now with children of her own but… her proclivities don’t really lie with… men.” Meera didn’t know how much Beleth did or didn’t mind that. In Theren no one much cared so long as you married well and had proper heirs. “At all. She really finds them charmless and I’ve protected her from being forced by her family to accept any matches so far. But the situation has become considerably more precarious, they’ve threatened to disown her if she does not make a match soon. I know the Baroness Elleni is a head of house in her own right and never has to marry if she does not want to. But Veora is not the same, and if the Baroness is of the same proclivities as she is perhaps I should interfere.”

Hearing that at dinner had surprised her and she needed to know if it was likely that the Baroness had taken a romantic interest in her lady.

“Baroness Elleni prefers women, yes,” Avery said. “And on Merid, her union with another woman would be considered as valid as one with a man. If she ever does marry, I imagine even the more uptight of the Beleth nobles would refer to her wife as ‘Baroness’, as well.”

“Really?” Meera was very taken aback by that, perhaps this was an opportunity unlike any other for her lady.

But there was a strong note of apprehension in his voice.

“However,” he cautioned, unsure of what connections Meera had already made. He didn’t want to insult her by suggesting she was ignorant, but it was unfair not to make sure she understood.

“Baroness Elleni has always been quite protective of her sisters, Gilda included,” he said. “She has communicated… That she does not think well of me. And by association, you and Theren. I am unsure if her interest in any woman could be strong enough to overcome that in the longterm.”

Meera paused, fiddling with a few petals as she thought. “I thought I was going to have to ask you to send the Baroness away in truth, if it’s a matter of gaining her heart I don’t think Lady Veora really needs any help in that matter. She’s never liked anyone interfering in that in the first place and since it would likely only do her harm I’ll be sure to give them a wide berth then… best to keep this conversation to ourselves if you don’t mind. Or at least from your aunt, who seems to have taken a special notice of the situation.” She concluded, pursing her lips and going back to scrubbing her legs one handed. Bathing with one arm out of the tub was more troublesome than it seemed.

She seemed so hopeful, and Avery didn’t have the heart to voice his concerns that Elleni might just be using Veora. He was being paranoid, probably. Overthinking again, he could hear Emerson’s accusation.

“Yes, Roysa tends to notice most things with great scrutiny,” he said with a sigh. “If it’s any consolation, it isn’t about you- That’s just how she is. She would be just as critical of any woman I had married.”

“She gives a new meaning to tough love I’m sure.” Meera dipped her head back, getting her scalp wet enough to wash, “I’m sure she’s mild compared to other nobles, I shall just have to do my utmost to never make any mistakes.” She shrugged, smiling, though not entirely joking.

“... What’s next. Tomorrow we leave this suite, yes? Finally.” She asked.

The relative peacefulness that had been settling into the corners of his mind retreated. Of course. He could hardly blame her for wanting to be rid of him.

“I think the tailors want to meet with you about preparing your winter wardrobe,” he said, unbending his legs to stand. “And I probably will need to tend to some military duties. But other than that it should hopefully be a light schedule, and you can just take the time to settle in.”

An advantage of overestimating how long they would be staying in the marriage suite was that the Council had no expectation of being entitled to their time.

He made a show of stretching into a yawn as he disappeared back behind the partition to finish changing. “I think I’m headed to sleep- You can leave the water in the tub. The servants will get it in the morning,” he told her.

“Well if the servants came in and your hair was dry they’d get suspicious wouldn’t they?” Meera’s lilting voice teased.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

Interacting: Emerson and Lady Vienna
Location: Redhill Castle, Emerson's suite


Emerson was exhausted.

Also, sore and hungover and more than a little hungry. He wished he would have known how much work it was, being an incurable reprobate. Not that his efforts had been in vain, of course.

In addition to having some spectacularly enjoyable escapades, he’d made some valuable connections. And learned quite a good deal.

Like, he thought as he rubbed at the side of his jaw, that Lord Keaton had not been annoyed that Emerson had been flirting with his son. No- He had been jealous. And Emerson was nothing if not... Flexible.

Though he sort of wished he’d stuck with the original plan on that one- Keaton was a fair bit more senior than he was usually willing to go, and a bit handsier than he appreciated without a warning. And the involvement of the Lady Keaton had been… Well, Emerson wasn’t one to judge and he didn’t normally object to a voyeur or two, but that whole night had been a bit weird if he was being honest.

The night immediately following the wedding had been great fun, though, and the day after it, and then the night in the city, and then the garden party the next day that had been rained on halfway through so they’d had to rush inside with sopping wet clothes and the very pretty maid who’d helped him warm up- Plus, he had several nobles who could probably be ruled out from involvement in the attack on Meera and a few that might warrant closer inspection, solid leads on which merchants were selling black market goods and where they were storing them, and the very interesting contents of dozens of pieces of correspondence, all filed in his head to be shared with Lady Roysa at her earliest convenience.

But first- He was going to sleep for a little bit, and then have a bath and eat something, and then sleep for a longer bit. Then a shave, and then meet with Roysa, and then he had several other invites for the evening to juggle depending on what Roysa wanted prioritized, and he’d throw himself back into being an incurable reprobate- It was a good plan.

He’d dragged himself into his rooms and was pulling off his shoes when his plans were rudely interrupted.

“Louis, if you interrupt me for any reason in the next 12 hours besides my bed being on fire, I shall have you sacked-”

“Sir,” Louis tried to intervene.

“And I shall be ever so sad to see you go-”

“Sir. Lady Vienna to see you,” his manservant gestured at one of the couches, where Emerson’s viper of a cousin sat with a pointed smile.

Why, goddess, do you hate me so, Emerson pleaded.

He dismissed his manservant with a wave of his hand, and Louis wisely fled.

“Vienna,” he said, with an obviously ingenuine warmth. “How absolutely horrible to see you. What crime did I commit to suffer such a punishment?”

“Your penchant for theatrics is neverending,” Vienna told him, standing to embrace him. Instead of a hug though, she merely held his shoulders and assessed his debauched state, wrinkling her nose and peering into his eyes.

“Well, that’s one question I needn’t ask then,” she said primly, affecting a concerned judgement but clearly pleased with the results of her inspection. “I’m disappointed to see how easily you fall back into old habits,” she tsked. “I’m sure uncle will feel the same.”

He looked uncomfortable at the prospect, and she grinned.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I won’t tell His Majesty you’ve been using again,” she told him. “Not unless I feel it’s truly… Unavoidable.”

“And how do I go about making sure it’s avoidable,” he asked with a weary sigh.

It was a familiar game, and one he was used to playing, especially with Vienna. Let her think she had something on him, and wait for her to play her own hand once she thought he was cornered. “Your usual goal is now out of reach, after all,” he observed.

“Well, it always was a bit too lofty, wasn’t it,” she said with a laugh. “But second wife of the king is fine, too-”

Tired as he was, and as accustomed to playing the fool as he was, there were some things even Emerson could not let stand. His face darkened and he grabbed at her shoulder.

“Vienna! You- The attack on the queen will be treated as attempted regicide, I cannot believe even you would be so stupid-”

“Gods, no! I only meant- In jest, I rather doubt he would do as his father did,” she explained hurriedly. She’d merely been suggesting that Avery might take multiple wives, and Emerson relaxed a little bit.

“I was sorry- To hear that you were attacked,” she said softly, and Emerson raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sure you were. And what else did you hear?”

“As far as I can tell,” she said, lowering her voice, though there was no one else in the room. “Our family wasn’t involved.”

Privately, Emerson couldn’t decide if he was relieved or not.

“They seem as shaken as everyone else, and it doesn’t make much sense- I can’t think of any of our cousins with the guts or the resources to even try to pull that off.”

Emerson had to admit she was likely right, but-

“And uncle?”

“There’s money to be made in Theren. He’s smart enough to see that, and I don’t think willful enough to let his pride stop him.”

“You would tell me, if you learned otherwise?”

“Of course,” Vienna said, a bit offended at his doubt.

This, at least, he knew was true. Vienna played the dutiful daughter and niece and was supposedly at court to advance the interests of Fremont, but he knew that she was ultimately only loyal to herself. If she could throw the rest of the family beneath the wagon wheels and be rewarded for it, she would. It made her both his favorite and most-hated cousin- Knowing how similar they were.

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t tell you,” Vienna amended. “Information like that, I might just go straight to Lady Roysa to ask for an audience with His Majesty. I imagine he would be very grateful for any details regarding the business, and I would hate to have you try and take any credit.”

Emerson rolled his eyes, and relaxed into a settee.

“Do please let your retinue of hangers-ons know the math you’ve worked out,” he encouraged. “Whatever reward their families can buy for their silence, the King will more than recompense.”

“I hope they’ve worked that out for themselves,” she said dryly, with an eye roll of her own as she sat down on the opposing couch. “Everyone saw the way he kept looking at her during the wedding celebrations. It was practically obscene.”

Emerson kept his grin to himself, glad of his success. He’d been sure to draw Avery’s attention to Meera- or at least, in Meera’s direction- as often as possible. Was that a new tapestry they’d hung in the western alcove of the hall? Who was that Lady Nyme was introducing the Queen to? Who designed the brocade for Meera’s dress, it was so intricate, especially around the chest- That one, admittedly, had gotten him a reproachful glare from Avery, which Emerson had interpreted as ‘stop ogling my new wife’s chest’ and not an indication that the King had realized what Emerson was up to.

It had been an incredibly easy gambit, all things considered- Any time he’d directed his friend’s gaze in even the hint of her direction, Avery’s eyes had landed on Meera, and lingered much longer and with much more intensity than was normal for him, or perhaps for anyone. And the various young ladies of the court that had tried and failed to capture any facet of Avery’s attention interpreted what Emerson knew to be a stare of consideration and consternation as glimpses of barely-concealed passion. It had been an excellent idea on Emerson’s part, and he was pleased to hear its execution had come off well.

“Yes, well- She is very pretty,” Emerson said off-handedly. “And you know what they say about girls from Theren…”

Vienna kicked lazily at his shin in annoyance.

“They’ll say that about girls from anywhere, and you are hardly one to judge when it comes to reputations,” she pointed out, and Emerson shrugged a shoulder in agreement with half a smile.

“Well, at least the poor girl will get some reprieve from his pent-up passions- I hear they’re having a little family dinner,” she revealed, which was actually new and somewhat helpful information to Emerson, so he supposed this conversation had some use. “You weren’t invited, of course,” Vienna said pointedly.

“I rarely am,” he returned.

“That’s something you can work on,” his cousin advised shrewdly. “She’s young enough to still be soft hearted- Regale her with your tales of bravery and cunning on the Wider Sea and how hard you worked to keep him alive, and now he won’t even seat you by his side on feasting days. She might budge where Lady Roysa would not.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Emerson promised with a tired sigh. He would do no such thing, of course. Favor from the crown only meant Emerson’s family would tear him apart to get at it, like hungry animals at a marrow-filled bone. “But I don’t think uncle should get his hopes up.”

“And I want to know about the Lord Chancellor,” Vienna added, which was something of a surprise.

“Cromwell? Anything in particular?”

He wasn’t opposed to telling her what he knew of the man, but he certainly did not volunteer his thoughts the way he had to Avery or Roysa.

“Is he single?”

“Can’t say it came up while we were trying to keep Their Majesties alive,” he replied.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you were very heroic,” Vienna said dryly. “Well, he’s new and he’s interesting and people want to know about him, so be a dear and rack that empty head of yours to figure out what sort of invitations he might be inclined to accept. We can’t have ruggedly handsome men sitting in their offices all day, which seems to be his tendency thus far.”

“He isn’t that good-looking,” Emerson scoffed. Just because he was tall with a determined gait and had a strong, well defined jaw and dark, piercing eyes-

“It’s the air of mystery, I think,” Vienna admitted with a dreamy sigh, only because she could tell it would annoy him.

“I hope you aren’t interested on your own behalf,” Emerson said with irritation, though he knew she probably wasn’t. For as much as she talked about marriage, her interest in it seemed minimal- Her pursuit of Avery had been more about the challenge of it, and the power. “He isn’t even a noble, you know. Not by our standards. Not really.”

“Neither are you,” Vienna laughed, standing up and ruffling at his hair like he was a small child, even though he was older by several years. “Oh, by the way- Uncle is hosting dinner tonight, for all the Fremont family. Six o’clock.”

He swore- There went his lazy day of relaxation.

“And do clean up a bit,” she added, pulling up on his collar to hide the exposed bruises. She picked at something on his skin that he was pretty sure was dried candle wax, and he glared at her. “Since Grandmama hates to see you like this.”

His eyes widened. “What- She isn’t here!”

“You danced with her at the wedding feast, despite uncle’s insistence that she was too frail- Don’t tell me you were already too far gone to remember that?”

Of course he remembered that. It was just-

“But she said she would be going back to Fremont the next morning!”

“Yes, well, plans change,” Vienna said airily. “She’s been here at Redhill. And I must say- I think she’s a bit disappointed that you haven’t been arsed to visit her. It’s bad enough that you rarely come back to Fremont, but when she’s staying in the same wing of the castle, well. It’s just rude, Emerson,” she chided with a smirk.

Vienna was still, Emerson thought, for all the different dimensions he had come to discover within her personality over the past few years, an utter bitch.

 

[jones573]

Interacting: Lord Emerson and Lord Chancellor Cromwell
Location: Redhill Castle, Cromwell's suite

Dinner with the Fremont family had not gone well. Not that he’d anticipated that it would, of course.

It might have gone better, if he’d watered down his wine a bit more. Or alternatively, it might also have gone better if he’d watered down his wine substantially less. With his family, it was often hard to know.

Regardless, he was still sober enough to remember the evening, and he planned to not be by the time he made it to bed- Hence, the wineskin he’d ‘liberated’ from his uncle. It was… Incredibly strong stuff. The old man had been holding out on them.

It was a long walk across the castle though, so he still had time to reflect a bit more- Vienna had been even more atrocious with the support of others, and had reminded him of her interest in the Lord Chancellor. Among other things, of which she had seemed just as keen to remind him of.

Actually, now that he thought about it- The man’s rooms were nearby, weren’t they? If he had just taken that last staircase… Emerson had barely finished the thought, but his feet had already turned to take him in that direction.

“Helloooo,” Emerson called, knocking on the man’s doorframe in an inane pattern. “Anyone home?”

“Lucky for you-” Cromwell drawled from behind Emerson, “-I am just now returning to my chambers.”

It was late, very late, and the leather bound folder in one of his hands was bursting full of correspondence he still had to read. On top of the work he already had to get done it appeared the Queen had ample time to add to the stack. Which directly contradicted the castle’s current gossip of the royal couple’s current… activities.

Still, the deals his Queen had managed to hash out with Beleth thus far were quite impressive. So while he had complaints about the failure to consummate the marriage they were more than assuaged by the current running success of the couple’s ability to work together and his Queen’s ingenuity towards opening trade. She wanted connections and lists of merchants and nobles with resources now. There was plenty of work to do. Work that didn’t necessarily include indulging in a drunk Lord.

Lord Cromwell set down the basket he was carrying in his other hand and opened his door.

“What can I do for you Lord Emerson?” He left it open for Emerson to follow him in.

Emerson has absolutely not startled when Cromwell had appeared behind him like some sort of ominous apparition. Well. Maybe a little.

“I was passing through,” Emerson explained, following the man inside and letting the door close behind him. “And thought I should see how you are settling in. Things are to your liking?,” he asked with a thrown hand, which might encompass his rooms, his duties, Beleth in general. Rather than specify, Emerson drank from his wine skin instead.

“My accomodations are perfectly adequate.” Cromwell wasn’t in the habit of complaining, and wouldn’t have even if he’d been put up in a space no bigger than a cupboard. He’d slept in much worse. But his accomodations in Redhill were anything but, by all accounts they went out of their way to ensure he was given appropriate accommodations that befit his station. Were he anyone else he’d be very happy with his multiple rooms and go about decorating it to his liking but he was not just any man. He’d hardly spent any time at all in his suite in truth.

In Theren, where he was well established and free to get things his way, his accommodations were converted to his office and his office space was converted to his room. This placed him nearer to his responsibilities anyhow, and something about sleeping in a large space that he never used while being cramped in an office with not enough surface area for his stacks of parchment and books seemed like a highly inefficient use of space. Besides, the use of an antechamber as a waiting room for the various important people that had appointments with him throughout the day had proven to be a surprising success. His clerk made sure they had wine to sip on and any annoyance of being kept waiting was asauged, or perhaps he’d just make them wait on purpose so his clerk could ply them with enough wine to make them amenable.

He’d be lying to say he wished he had taken his clerk with him, used as he was to having someone else take care of menial tasks and grunt work like finalizing letter drafts or running letters back and forth. He’d dismissed the one offered to him by the staff of Redhill, preferring to keep who was likely meant to be a spy out of his office space.

Which was why the manservant provided for him here did not have much to do either. Relegated mostly to bringing him food.

There was something about starting from scratch in a place where he had little influence that was a bit thrilling though, he’d begun to really enjoy it.

“Was that all you came here for or were you looking for someone to amuse you.” Cromwell deadpanned while he began starting a fire to warm the room, the candle he brought with him doing little to provide much light in the dead of night.

Seeing as most of the castle were either too intimidated by Cromwell or too disdainful of him, Emerson thought he might be a bit more appreciative of the company and gesture of goodwill, but noooo.

“I’m supposed to find out your thoughts: Do you think Her Majesty would prefer to have her next horse quickly,” he asked, “Or would she like to wait for some to arrive from Theren to choose from?”

Yeeees, Cromwell was sure Emerson wanted to find out his thoughts, shrewd and all knowing as the man was. The little fox seemed to have his fingers in all of the pies in the castle.

“I think that should be left for her majesty to decide. Reya was not just any mare to her. She was a coming of age gift.” Cromwell began lighting the wood, crouching low and cupping his hand to the small flame, “From her father, the late King Gaius.” May he rest in peace, he thought to himself reflexively.

He stood up and placed the candle back in its handle, picking up the blanketed basket to set a safe distance from the growing fire. “I’m sure you can work out the emotional significance of having one of the last pieces of your dead father slaughtered in front of you.” He straightened, hands behind his back, eyebrow raised at Emerson.

“Well, His Majesty wants to get her a new horse, and he wasn’t sure if it would be more or less painful to be given the option,” Emerson explained. “He feels awfully guilty, what with having killed the last one and all.” He wrinkled his nose and took another swig. “And the horse is much easier to replace than the father.”

“If she wanted to select a horse then she would. If he wants to extend a gesture then it should come from him. I’m not so sure she’ll take it as a thoughtful gift if she’s the one doing the choosing though.” He moved to the folder on his bed, flipping it open, “Those are my thoughts on the matter.” Cromwell wasn’t sure if Lord Emerson’s crass boldness was due to the wine or the privacy of his company but it didn’t phase him. Well, it didn’t make him think worse of the man in any case.
“Thank you! I’ve said very similarly,” Emerson said. “He should just ask her what she wants.”

“Then again…” Cromwell smirked to himself as he found the letter from the Queen Regent he had yet to read, “It could be that an effort to prematurely replace that which is irreplaceable won’t be taken all that well.” It’s not that Cromwell wanted to be unhelpful, it was just that perhaps he’d be more inclined to if certain parties had put more respect on his dead monarch’s memory.

“Ah, now you are sounding more like Vee than like me- Overthinking everything,” he drawled. “But she likes riding, so- Oh!”

He emphasized the exclamation with a sudden turn and wide gesture with the hand holding the wine.

“I have to warn you! My cousin wants to ride you,” he cautioned. “Or invite you riding. Or find someone for you to ride or go riding with. Dangerous business, regardless of which one.”

“Does she have red hair?” Was what came out of his mouth as he cracked open the letter’s seal and unfolded it, but what he had meant to say was ‘I’m busy’. He paused at his sudden… mistake, stiffening, but perhaps he could blame that on the letter.

“Maybe if you set her on fire,” Emerson said, looking at the fire wistfully.

He cleared his throat, “She’d find better company elsewhere I don’t have much free time and I’ve been told I’m singularly boring anyhow.” Cromwell locked eyes with the intrusive fool in his room, his face stoney despite what was supposed to be construed as a jest at his expense.

“Nonsense, I’m sure you could be interesting, given the right prompting,” Emerson said airly. He became uncomfortable after a moment under the other man’s stare, and glanced behind him to make sure there wasn’t someone over his shoulder who had captured Cromwell’s attention. But it was still just himself and the Chancellor and the things the latter man had brought with him. “What’s in the basket?”

Curious… Cromwell blinked breathing in deep. Turning to the basket by the fire he crouched down and lifted the blanket, revealing a sleeping pup. “A runt.” Cromwell clarified, “Since he was going to be culled I figured it was of little matter if I interceded. No one was going to miss him. Save his mother.” Cromwell studied the little sleeping creature.

The pup’s mother would see him again once he was big enough to play. One day. His own mother never got that chance.

Emerson recoiled from the sight, something like fear in his eyes- Which would be silly, as he was a grown man, and the little monster was sleeping. And also tiny, and could probably do minimal damage even if it was awake and snarling at him with its miniature teeth.

“Dogs are disgusting animals,” Emerson said, both appalled and confused as to why Cromwell would do such a thing. “I can’t imagine what you would want with one!”

The castle had a pack of hunting dogs, maintained primarily by Lady Roysa, but she rarely had objection to others using them as desired. He supposed they had their uses on farms, herding animals and deterring predators and vermin. But Cromwell did not have sheep that needed tending, and the castle had well-trained cats working as mousers to catch pests within the walls.

Emerson’s reaction was quite unfiltered, and Cromwell honed in on it, took note. He left the blanket open as he stood, “The same thing one would normally want with one I suppose.” That wasn’t amusement in his voice.

Was it?

“To terrorize people? Charming,” Emerson snorted.

Cromwell wondered if Lord Emerson knew he was being so open and vulnerable. If he knew being that way in front of a man like himself was desperately unsafe. Cromwell did things with secrets and fears like that, unkind things.

“Or to stave off the loneliness of your workaholic tendencies, maybe? Because I could help you with that,” he pointed out archly.

Cromwell cocked an eyebrow.

“I know several discrete consorts I could refer you to,” he explained. “And they don’t tend to shit on the floor if you fail to give them attention.”

‘But consorts weren’t loyal, were they.’ Thinking for a moment, the Lord Chancellor unclasped his hands and slowly stalked over to Emerson, coming close enough to tower over him.

“I did warn you that I was boring my Lord…”

“Now that is sounding like a challenge,” Emerson complained. They were not of such different heights, but Emerson rather felt the other man was somehow much bigger, some great looming shadow over him. “And so I shall become determined to see you enjoy yourself! If I remember this later,” he added with a frown, because he was getting to the point in the evening where things tended not to be so-recollectable the next day.

Cromwell lifted Emerson’s wrist, the one holding the wineskin. “... Now, I think it’s time you went off to bed, considering how empty this is.” He gave his wrist a loose shake, what little wine was left sloshed around.

“Noooo, that’s mine,” Emerson pouted, pulling the wine and his hand away and cradling them to his chest. In the distance, the bells in the city chimed the change of watch rotations.

“Ah shit, you’re right,” the younger man startled. “I’ve got to get back or the girls will start without me! And give me plenty of grief about it, too, when I know those mouths have other, far superior talents,” he said with a dreamy but glassy-eyed look.

He shook himself out of his reverie and headed towards the door, less steady on his feet than he’d been coming in. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been drinking so much, so quickly, but what was done was done, and besides- The ‘girls’ in question wouldn’t expect him to do anything other than sleep it off in the next room. He’d met the servant couple a few years ago, and they had a delightful arrangement in which they enjoyed a night together in lavish quarters and he got to boost his scandalous reputation with minimal effort.

He supposed it didn’t really matter if he was ‘late’ either, as they hadn’t even planned to enjoy dinner and cards before retiring. He’d invited them to his rooms for the night only shortly after Vienna had left early that morning - She’d denied him both his afternoon of relaxation and his evening of rumor-mongering, so it was a revenge of sorts. It was one thing to tumble with a servant, she would insist, but quite inappropriate to be inviting them into your home on the regular and carrying on some sort of relationship.

But he’d bothered Lord Cromwell long enough, for the time being at least.

“I’ll be seeing you then,” he told the other man before taking another chug at his wine. It was, as Cromwell had pointed out, nearly empty, so he tipped it upside down and let the last of it splash into his open mouth. He gave the Lord Chancellor a cheery but very tipsy wave, and was off.

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Avarett

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: King Averett & Queen Meera

Black and gold ribbons fell from the ceiling in the grand room, she watched them wave around as if the wind were blowing. But they were inside. How could the wind be blowing? Where was she? She looked around her, flowers and petals on the floor, food and drink and cakes stacked tall were on tables, decorated fruits and meats with cheeses on platters. She looked at the floor, she was wearing her wedding dress, she was at her wedding reception. It was beautiful, the music loud but not as loud as the murmur of people, people everywhere. The more Meera turned around the more people appeared, all different and all with faces she couldn’t put names to. Things became dense and tightly packed, the murmur grew louder. Music was still playing but it didn’t sound like music anymore it sounded like something else. Something twisted and hurting.

“Your grace you’re not fast enough.” Someone said.

She whipped around, “Fast enough for what?”, but got no answer and couldn’t tell who in the crowd was addressing her.

“Your grace go down easy, if you don’t make it hard it’ll be quick.” The sound came from over her shoulder.

“I am Queen of Theren and you won’t!-” Meera indignantly whipped around again, still unable to pinpoint anyone specific, she stopped her demand once she realized. Everyone was standing still. Stock still. Staring at her.

“You lost everything and you will lose more. I will take it.” This time they all said it in unison. The music wasn’t music at all it was a horse’s dying screams, a mare’s.

Meera jerked awake in a panic, breathing hard and crying.

Avery had been sleeping relatively well, but even his subconscious efforts to keep to his side of the bed could not prevent him from the feeling of someone tossing and turning next to him.

Emerson had enough nightmares for it to be a familiar cue to Avery, and he woke up quickly, using his arm to prop himself up.

He reached over to put his hand against Em’s neck but had woken up enough at that point to realize it wasn’t his friend at all.

“Hey,” he said softly, going for her hand instead and running circles over her palm with his thumb. “Hey- You’re okay. You’re awake. Meera? You here with me?”

After Meera realized who she was next to and where she was, she attempted to control her breathing by closing her mouth, the horrid whimpers by clearing her throat.

She looked everywhere but where the comforting sounds of her husband came from, as if she had to check - to make sure that no one else was here. She even looked behind herself, but nothing but the headboard and pillows were there.

“Reya was screaming and everyo-” She stopped. She couldn’t tell him could she. What would he think if her nightmares included their wedding? She took deep breaths and wiped her cheeks with her free hand, her other was clutching Avery’s for dear life.

She gulped, “The sound. It’s impossible to forget.” She glanced over to his face.

Avery knew what she meant- Horses screamed as loud as any man, and had not chosen to fight for their country.

“It’s all right,” he said, “It was only a nightmare. You’re safe now,” he said. Gods, she had a strong grip. “Good, keep breathing like that,” he told her, “Deep and even.”

He pulled his sleeve down past his fingers and reached over to wipe at her cheeks a bit better, brushing her dark hair behind her ear and out of her face.

He didn’t really know what to say- He could hardly say that Reya was going to be alright.

“You’re safe now,” he repeated. “...Do you want to talk about it?”

No, she didn’t. “It’s just a stupid nightmare. I don’t know why I would be having one now it’s been weeks since…” She took a big gulp of air.

“Just a stupid nightmare. I shouldn’t be acting like this I can’t afford it. Neither can others.” A cold numbness settled in to her bones as panic and fear left her.

“There’s no one here to see,” he reassured her.

“No you don’t understand you can’t show weakness even in private they will know they can smell it on you. It’s… It’s like. They’re always watching every little thing and I can’t afford that here.” She ranted at him, panic rising in her again momentarily.

She looked down at her hand clutching Avery’s, she was clutching it so tight his fingers were turning red, “Sorry. I’m sorry. Ancestors help, me my mother was right.” She let him go and rubbed at her eyes. “The time for princesses is over.” She finished quietly. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t stop apologizing. Avery knew what she meant but perhaps not to the extent she meant it. She was raised for rule. He wasn’t, despite being a royal. All eyes weren’t always on him. He wasn’t in a Kingdom where he was hated.

Avery knew how to calm Emerson after a nightmare, but Meera was a different matter altogether, and he didn’t resist when she relinquished his hand. She didn’t seem to want physical comfort, the reassure of safety that Emerson always sought out- Though, Avery supposed, maybe he just wasn’t the person to offer it. She probably took no solace in knowing that he was safe, and he doubted she thought of him as someone who could protect her.

“It’s fine,” Avery said, turning away and straightening himself up to bury his feet in the warmth of the rug on the floor. He was the reason her horse was dead, after all. Why would she want comfort from him? He’d give her a moment to compose herself, he decided, and then act as if nothing was amiss.

He got up and threw on his overrobe. “I’ll go check to see if breakfast’s been brought up,” he announced.

“I’m not hungry…” Meera slumped down, she had to get up, it was barely daybreak but it was no matter. She did still have work to do, letters to write, strategy to plan with Lord Blackbird. She couldn’t even run to her ladies for comfort. Not for this. Her eyes fluttered shut and she wondered if she could go back to sleep for a little while longer, but she didn’t feel tired. Well, she did. But not the kind of tired that sleep fixes.

She got up and decided it was time for work after all.

“Has Ruhar sent you any letters?” She called as she made her way to the wash basin to clean her face.

Her husband must think her some wilting flower, some weakling. She had only a taste of the violence that he and his siblings had experienced at the hands of assassins in this Kingdom, that her people of either country had experienced in wretched war. She had no right to be fretting over dreams. It was Reya who died and suffered not her.

The splash of water hid her fresh tears. She had to stop being so weak. The time for princesses was over, her mother wasn’t here to solve everything. For the second time in her life Meera had the thought that she should have taken her swordsmanship lessons seriously instead of dancing around like a fool with her ladies.

That would have to change, immediately.

Breakfast had been brought up, and Avery put the tray inside, glad for something to do with his hands.

“Ruhar?,” he asked, thinking for a moment. “A few, but nothing I would not expect from them. Congratulations on… The wedding,” he said. There had also been a form-letter of congratulations on securing a surrender from Theren, but that seemed rude to bring up. “I believe they agreed to send another ambassador to Redhill, but Roysa doesn’t think it will be the one she’d been used to working with.”

There hadn’t really been a need to withdraw their ambassador in the first place, as Redhill was hardly in much danger even at the war’s peak. But it had been an excuse to summon the man back home and send back someone else in his place without directly saying the first’s performance had come under scrutiny.

The Beleth crown had paid Ruhar for the trade blockage, of course, but it had been a flat rate, and Avery knew the compensation did not match what Ruhar might have made instead. But they hadn’t reneged on the agreement, even as the cost they could have charged Theren rose rapidly- As the more Theren was willing to pay had a direct relationship with how well Avery’s military was performing, and Ruhar was not foolish enough to anger a king whose already mobilized forces might soon end their current conflict.

Meera chuckled darkly, “Do you know why you were so successful in negotiations with them?” She wiped her face clean and watched him as she went to retrieve something to wear.

“Roysa would know better than I,” Avery admitted. She’d been the one to handle most of those negotiations, as he’d been on and off the field of battle at the time. “A variety of reasons, I imagine.”

He thought one of them might have been because he had just invited pirates to raid any ships coming and going from Theren, which certainly meant that trading beyond Theren would be much less lucrative. But again it seemed rude to bring that up and Meera seemed to have some inkling as to the other reasons, so Avery paid attention. He was not too proud to admit his aunt often knew more than he did, and he wasn’t going to be too proud to recognize the same would be true of his wife.

“My mother is a Princess of Ruhar, did you know that? She hails from there, and as such she’s always had a finger on Ruhar’s pulse. I don’t know who her sources are but I trust she knows what she’s doing. And while her older brother was King, Theren’s relationship with Ruhar was strong. She was close with her older brother, and my uncle treated me very well whenever I went to visit. But when he died he left no heirs between him and his wife, so the crown fell on the head of a cousin. A boy of sixteen.” Meera explained, choosing a dress and sauntering over to Avery at the table, she got close.

“Yes, I recall,” Avery mused. His father had been war-mongering with Theren at the time and Avery had let Elion worry about foreign transitions of power, but even when he’d been only a second prince Avery had paid at least some attention to current events. He had also known that Queen Agora originally hailed from Ruhar royalty, though he’d forgotten the specifics of the relationship.


“My mother never met him personally, but his mother was what my mother describes as a ‘I'm uncultured’ and his closest advisors are made up of the patriarchs of his family. So there’s no particular inclination for this new King to keep the steady alliance between Ruhar and Theren besides money. But…” Meera emphasized this new point, “Ruhar’s boy King was never interested in money. He wanted glory. He sought to make his mark in history through the glory of battle and expansion of his Kingdom. Apparently his plan was to let our Kingdoms fight, watch as both sides clashed, and then battle the victor whose forces were weakened by war. What he hoped to gain was land on the coast. That way Ruhar doesn’t have to answer to either of our Kingdoms when it comes to trade from over the sea.” She let that sink in.

Avery scoffed at the idea- Either that Ruhar’s military could defeat his own, or that he would surrender coastal lands, he didn’t say.

“Theren attempted to appease Ruhar’s desires with money and the promise of far better trade rates, we even offered me at one point. But Ruhar didn’t want any of it. Its King, he’s what seventeen or eighteen now, wanted glory.” Meera gave him a moment to think, stealing something off his plate and wondering if he understood the implications as she chewed slowly.

For a brief moment Avery was angry, but he didn’t know why. So he swallowed down the feeling and focused on what she had said instead.

“You think he might try something?,” Avery asked.

“You foiled his plans.” She grinned wide, “You acted in a way that no one expected least of all him!” She gave his cheek a few good pats.

For a moment Avery thought she was going to slap him- Though the patting was almost more confusing. At least he managed not to flinch.

“You pissed him off my King. And I’m going to piss him off even more by cutting off all trade with Ruhar.” She grabbed his shoulders, “Theren is going to invest heavily in our new ally, Beleth, and in one swoop, Ruhar finds itself on the losing side of a war it never even fought in.”

“Hmmm,” Avery said, considering. She seemed very excited at the prospect. He was a bit more concerned at the reminder that it wasn’t just enemies from within their countries that wanted their partnership to fail, but outside of it as well. It seemed almost too bold for Ruhar to have organized the attack on Meera, but if they wanted to keep both countries at war- Now he was just following conjecture and his own sense of paranoia. Cromwell would let them know once there was anything resembling a lead. But certainly something to be aware of in the future.

“I’m trying to tell you that Theren is about to offer Beleth a deal to cut off Ruhar as well. Which means yes Ruhar might try something but frankly…” Meera let him go, a bit disappointed that he didn’t seem excited at the fact that Beleth was about to fill those coffers it had depleted during the war in a very short amount of time.

Meera brushed past him to dress behind the partition. “After King Arthur made it clear to his entire council he just intended to take whatever he wanted from Theren, myself included if i survived your wrath, when he boxed Beleth off in some glorious manner- I think they need to be taken down a peg or two. Ruhar’s King is young and arrogant, and thirsty to make his lasting mark in history. Let that be on some other Kingdom not ours.” Meera reasoned distractedly, pausing here and there to tie something in place or adjust.

Avery was glad Meera had gone to change, so she couldn’t see the particularly vicious way he stabbed at his breakfast- Once when she mentioned herself as Arthur’s prize, and a second time at the idea that some boy hoped to outwit him on a battlefield.

Avery hadn’t seen anything of the deal Meera had been working on, but when it was done she saw little reason he wouldn’t accept it. Why side with Ruhar when it plotted against you and you have Theren, whose Queen you married and are about to make a lot of money from.

“I agree with that assessment,” Avery said evenly, after a minute of angry chewing. The King of Ruhar could turn his greedy eye elsewhere, and hopefully get his ass handed to him regardless. “But all the same- Let us not slight him too harshly. In case his desire for vengeance is stronger than his interest in achievable conquests, and the advice of whatever commonsense remains in his councilors.”

“At least be open to the deal Avery. Or do you think it’s a good idea for Ruhar to get the impression that Beleth doesn’t actually value its new ally and is too weak to stop Ruhar from doing whatever it wants. And I don’t just mean to Theren. You do know how it looked to abruptly stop a war you were winning don’t you? It’s not likely Ruhar saw that as mercy. Cutting off trade is hardly an act of violence deserving of a revenge fueled war. They wouldn’t have any excuse besides conquest to attack.” Meera’s bone to pick with Ruhar was personal, despite all the reasons she put behind it.

Avery was very open to a deal that increased trade between Beleth and Theren. Supportive, even- He felt he had been clear about that? He just wasn’t too keen to cut Ruhar out of the equation altogether, and was even less keen to be discussing this so early in the morning and without any of the trade advisors present. He put his fork down.

“No,” he said cooly. “Please, explain to me ‘how it looked’,” Avery challenged.

She froze. He was actually going to make her say it, she was grateful for the partition now and chose to stay behind it. The distinct feeling of threat crept up her spine, hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Paranoia set in, her nightmare of herself surrounded coming to mind again.

“Apparently he said something to the effect of you being too weak to avenge your brother properly.” Meera replied carefully, she glanced at the door, she could leave quickly if need be, it was close enough.

Avery’s dark eyes narrowed. “He can say what he likes, he sounds like a foolish young boy. I am more interested to know if you agree with his assessment.”

She huffed, doubling over in disbelief, taking a deep breath and stepping out. “So you do believe it. That it was Theren who killed your brother and his wife and their poor little child!?” She couldn’t stop her eyes becoming glassy or her voice shaking.

Well- That was hardly an answer! And Avery felt completely unprepared for the accusation she levelled at him! Were all women this absurd when upset?

“I don’t need any more lessons on your strength you beat them into my head well enough.” She replied bitterly, hovering next to the door.

“Well, please, Your Majesty,” he sneered, gesturing sharply at the door and the world beyond it. “Don’t let me continue to bore you. I have plenty of other things to do today than listen to your nonsense!”

That stung, and before she knew it and was flinging the door open and rushing out. The door to the anteroom was heavier, it slowed her some. It was enough to make sure her wordless stomp out of the room wasn’t a sprint.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & Lord Chancellor Cromwell

Location: Redhill - The Castle & The Forest | Interacting with: Lord Cromwell

Queen Meera’s determined stomping slowed and became less confident the more turns she took.

She didn’t know where she was heading.

And wasn’t that just poetic.

Her breathing and pace slowed in tandem with one another until she finally stopped at an intersection of hallways. She had so many choices to take, so many paths to follow, and she couldn’t see where any of them led. So where should she go?

She looked right, her first instincts were to see her ladies, but she wanted to take her frustrations out on something. Perhaps she could goad Nyme into a serious sparring match with metal, she could almost hear the clanging of swords and see the worried looks of indignation and confusion at their Queen’s sudden desire to take the play out of swordplay all of the sudden.

She looked left, would Lord Blackbird be awake by now? She did have work to do, more now that her hus- the King was not cooperating with her vision for Ruhar. She would have her way, Lord Blackbird would make sure of it. But she was so restlessly desperate. Practically crawling out of her skin to run, to hit something, to be free. She wanted to escape her confines.

The clink of metal behind her told her that guards had followed her, she hadn’t noticed them till now. Of course she was being followed, she was always being followed. A reminder that she wasn’t safe here, another in the long list of differences between Beleth and Theren. Instead of a general guard that protected the castle and its inhabitants near every noble in Beleth had personal guards dogging their every step. For a land that had so ardently accused others of assassins they seemed crawling with them.

Assassins were lowly, cowardly, and dishonorable creatures of filth in Theren, the mere notion of them were treated as such. If you wanted a noble killed, you dueled them where the whole court could see. Blood spilled the honorable way was still blood spilled though, she supposed.

“My trunks were moved to the royal chambers weren’t they?” She looked straight ahead.

A pause, “Yes, your Majesty, but I believe they aren’t finished with them yet. Later this afternoon-”

“Lead me there, I’m not visiting to inspect them. I just need to change into riding clothes, and send for Lord Blackbird, tell him to catch up to me.” Meera squared her shoulders, a good hard ride would soothe the wild unease of her heart.

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Cromwell, willing his tired eyes to open, stumbled, no stomped, his way to the door of his chambers. A grunt was all his scrunched up face could muster at the fool who dared wake him before he was well and ready.

“Her Majesty the Queen summons you to ride with her this morning.” One of the royal guard informed him. Darius? Markus? Edward… Cromwell couldn’t remember his name for the life of him.

He grunted in reply and shut the door. Shuffling off but not getting very far before indignant raps on the door brought him back.

“Lord Cromwell. Her Majesty the Queen summoned you.” The guard was aghast.

Cromwell fixed him with a look, “Yes… did you need to watch me get dressed or do you expect that I should go see her like this? Perhaps ride out on my horse without any shoes. Scandalize the whole castle and my Queen by looking like a beggar that has somehow acquired a steed?”

The guard’s face turned red at Cromwell’s less than cordial tone, and had the door shut in his face a second time.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Cromwell frowned as he brought Merchant out of his stall, his Queen had not waited for him, which was unusual. It hadn’t really taken him all that long to get dressed, drop his pup off down in the kitchens with someone suitable to feed and watch over him, and get to the stables. Especially since apparently she had to go dress for riding herself when he had been summoned. She must have been in a hurry.

Or perhaps upset.

He had an inkling that the latter was most likely as he saddled up and rode off in the direction she had apparently gone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

He found her, finally, sitting by a tree in a pretty patch of flowers. Her training sword lay next to her, she was staring off into the distance, looking haunted. What had happened between last night and this morning? Last report he had gotten from Nyme stated that she was in good spirits and that she seemed to be getting along with her new husband.

Then again they weren’t exactly consummating their marriage. Perhaps Nyme’s report was more optimistic than he gave it credit for.

“Your grace.” Cromwell approached and bowed.

“Our plans for Ruhar are going to fall through.” She monotoned.

“How do you mean?” He rose slowly, unsure how those particular plans could already be unraveling, barely in their infancy.

“He doesn’t want to antagonize Ruhar.” The Queen clarified.

“Well. Certainly not when you put it like that. I’m sure he doesn’t.” Cromwell knew she had probably put it with more tact than that, probably… most likely… but so early? When they hadn’t even had most of it on paper? Regardless his sarcasm did its job, she rolled her eyes and finally regarded him.

“Whether officially as economic policy or unofficially by undercutting any deal Ruhar and its nobles make in Beleth we can effectively have our way. Or mostly our way. It doesn’t matter. Nobody but minor merchants will be able to do business across the border by the time we’re done.” Cromwell shrugged. “King Arthur will be antagonized one way or another. Our point will be made. He will be punished for his arrogance.”

“I should’ve had confidence that you would see little obstacle in a monarch’s will.” She smiled bitterly. Giving the two of them pause.

After an uncomfortable moment Cromwell cleared his throat, “The boy, you gave your orders as to what was to be done with him and now…”

“Now?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“You mentioned you would make a decision about what was to be done with him once you were out.” He sensed that this conversation was going to go nowhere positive as he elaborated. She was being purposefully clipped with him. This wasn’t just general frustration.

“No, I don’t believe that’s what I said.” She reminded him, rising, tossing aside picked flowers to pick up her sword.

“He can not stay much longer, your grace. Your wedding and the consummation thereafter has been considered a success but that is a small victory and giving your new nobles a fresh reason to mock you behind your back is not advisable.” His sword was sheathed over on Merchant’s saddle; his dagger was at his waist. Neither of these blades were dull training weapons however.

He saw her eyes flash with anger and hurt but he pressed on, “Any longer is past a period of kindness befitting the Queen’s mercy. Send him back to his proper station and let this be a credit to you, not a smear.” He reasoned.

“I have a better idea. I think I’ll make him my ward.” The casually flippant tone she used was emphasized by a twirl of her sword.

“Then I suppose your grace that you expect to gather all of the unfortunate orphans of Beleth and keep them in the castle as your wards?” He deadpanned, noting that she was beginning to circle him.

“Now there’s an idea Lord Blackbird, see to it immediately.” She fired back angrily, cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment at being spoken to like a child for the second time that morning.

“Your Majesty…” he said reproachfully.

“You seem to have forgotten my Lord, that it is not you who wears the crown! I am your Queen and you may not overstep yourself!” She fumed at him, realizing with quelled rage that in the past, his tone would have worked with her and she would have yielded. She had been making a mistake allowing him to take the reins for so long in her decision making.

Cromwell straightened, choosing to ignore the dull blade pointed at his throat. “I am merely your Majesty’s humble servant. I only advise the best course of action.” He defended himself evenly, trying for a humble dignity, unused to being on the receiving end of his Queen’s anger.

“You advise my Lord Blackbird. And when I have made a decision you will do your utmost to carry that out. I am surrounded by enemies and married to a disappointed and cold King. The time for Princesses is over. I need you to do your duty and support your Queen’s decisions, even if they are not ones you would advise me to make.” Had her voice sounded strong and sure, it would’ve been quite the statement to make. A rallying cry for support, but it shook, and quaked. It sounded paranoid. She did not feel strong and she did not look it.

“And when you have information that is pertinent to me, you would be wise to deliver it to me instead of letting your Queen look like a fool.” She hissed, prodding forward, forcing Cromwell to take steps back, so as not to choke.

That… what could she possibly mean? Cromwell kneeled slowly, dropping his gaze respectfully, “If I have failed my Queen in any way, please your grace, know that it was unconsciously done and that I am prepared to give my head most willingly should you demand it.” He meant every word.

The point of Meera’s sword fell away after tense consideration, “You knew he was lying to me. And after all that careful coaching to be amenable and in control of how he saw me, was it not you and my mother who expressed that the very first impression was the most important. That I had to dazzle him from the start?” A fresh tear fell down her cheek, she felt suddenly very tired.

Cromwell looked up, his brow furrowed, “Your majesty I did not know until it was too late, and I did not tell you to cause you pain or embarrassment. You were already dazzling him, being your natural self. You could not have done better had you known. In fact, I thought it would have given you unnecessary pause. Nor did I think it would cause you embarrassment, that the King would tell you himself.”

Meera closed her eyes and took a deep breath, sighing, “That is not for you to decide my Lord Blackbird. You do not make those decisions for me from now on. You are never to keep such things from me ever again simply because you think you know what is best.”

Cromwell nodded, bowing his head in acknowledgement as she made herself clear. He rose when she gestured for him to rise.

“I have allowed you and my mother to take care of matters in a way that is not befitting a Queen and now I suffer for it. I have not been dazzling the King, anything but in fact. Everytime I think I am connecting to him the next moment the chasm between us gets ever wider. Sometimes I think I know what to make of him and others…” She turned away, letting the point of her sword drag through the grass and flowers.

“Angry as you are with me, your grace, the King perhaps does not deserve so much distrust or ire... - He made a plan that he made me aware of after the attempt on your life, should you not arrive safely.” It was another thing that he had not told her, but something she needed to hear while he could still both clear his own name and reassure her. Her distress worried him, it mirrored the same kind of distress that plagued her after her father, spirits guide him in his eternal peace, died.

That got her to turn around, “Should you not survive the journey to Redhill, he was to be taken into custody by the Princess Grace, and sent to Delphi to await the judgement of your mother, the Queen Regent herself.” It sounded ridiculous as he said it out loud, but the truth often was.

“I don’t believe that, what kind of fool…” Confusion and even a spark of happiness broke Meera’s dark mood. Her mother would have never let him live, nor would should let him die quick, or with dignity. He had to have known that.

“He is honorable. To the point of foolishness yes. But you like that in a man, as I recall.” Cromwell joked.

It was true, her previous engagement had been to a foolishly honorable man, and it made her laugh softly in remembrance of it. “The sweet Captain… to keep the peace he would have done it too.” Some small part of her wanted to believe it was in care for her life too, but it was unlikely the plan was put in place for that given they hadn’t even met yet. Despite that, it did warm her a bit.

“I believe he would have.” Cromwell confirmed, though he was not sure that his advisors, his aunt, or his sister the Princess would have let him though. The thought was nice, but thoughts and plans often could be noble where reality was not.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & Lord Emerson

Location: Redhill - The Castle - Queen's Solar | Interacting with: Her Ladies & Lord Emerson & Lord Cromwell

Meera remembered the savage ruthlessness with which her very first ruling was passed as Queen apparent. An important one. The ruling to accept peace and negotiations for a marriage alliance with Beleth.

It would not come to pass without her approval, but neither would it pass without a majority approval by her noble council. The two needed to be in agreeance, and given that she was already for the treaty, the onus was on her council. In the end it was decided in favor of, by five votes.

Because five noblemen had been locked in the dungeon on offenses ranging from minor to treasonous by her Lord Chancellor.

At first glance, choosing a wardrobe was not quite so cutthroat, but that was only at first glance.

“Yes I agree I like that silhouette, the sleek quarter sleeves are very different from what I’ve seen. The bell sleeves are in fashion here, so this winter I’ll stand out. But that fabric, it’s fabric from Merid isn’t it?” Meera circled the wooden mannequin, several in various silhouettes and styles with varying sleeves stood sentry in the room, the dresses in plain white but with pieces of suggested fabrics pinned here and there.

“It is your majesty.” The royal tailor, newly hired and though he was old, had two younger sons known for their talents in embroidery who apprenticed under him, spoke up.

“The neckline is so high though!” Nyme complained, speaking up from her very comfortable position lounging in the pillows and snacking on a small raspberry tart.

“Your majesty will be very glad for that when the snow comes, um, your grace.” One of the tailor’s sons spoke up. He received a reproachful look from his father for his trouble.

“It is true, your majesty. I am told it does not snow in Delphi, we must dress your majesty so that she does not need to walk around the castle in her fur cloak through the halls all day.” The tailor confirmed.

“Oh spirits are we going to freeze in our beds?” Mercy said through a mouth full of food.

“Yes yes the neckline is fine, it’ll work with my gold and pearl drapery, perhaps better than even Theren dresses do. That’s not what I asked.” She paced around the mannequins and tailors alike, voice deceptively light.

“The fabric over here is from Merid yes. Fine textiles suited well for-”

“I won’t be using that fabric. Show me others.” Merid was blatant, dangerously blatant in their desire to undermine her. Baroness Elleni was fearless according to Nyme’s reports on her and though she had no desire to stop her ladies from… befriending her should they choose she had no desire to show Merid favor either. They would have to do better, be cooperative if they wanted that. So Meera made up her mind to not wear any textiles from there.

“When you embroider these overcoats though, use those pearls the Duke of Yehtun gifted me. The Duke’s land is known for their pearls apparently. We will see about supporting their enterprises.” Meera ran her pointer finger across the shoulder of a mannequin featuring a tight overcoat silhouette. The Duke was one of the Dukes contesting for the barony of Merid, a subtle slap in the face. A subtle show of favor. Perhaps the barony had to worry about its independence. All much too subtle to really be accusatory or brought up, but this right here, this matter of fashion and fabric and the showing of gifts and textiles and style from here and there meant something. Queens and Ladies were not dressed without careful consideration.

“Ah Lord Emerson! You finally got here, we thought you might never show, had you taken any longer we’d have eaten all the snacks.” Nyme waved as a familiar redhead entered the Queen’s rooms. “We were just deciding the fate of fashion this winter. Merid and bell sleeves are out of favor, Yehtun and sleek sleeves are in.”

“White fur. I like the cloak I was gifted but not everything can be in black, use white fur for the others, it’ll contrast my hair.” Meera made note to the tailor as she pet the sleek pitch black cloak that had been gifted by a minor Lord, it was quite pretty and finely made, she’d never worn anything like it.

“Your Majesty,” Emerson greeted Meera with a sweeping bow, but righting himself quickly enough. “I apologize for the delay.”

He did not offer an excuse, as he did not have a good one that was truthful and he could not come up with a false one that worked either- He’d been sleeping. First on the couch in his small and mostly empty library, though the girls had woken him with news of the queens summons. The problem was that he had then gone to change and caught sight of his bed and- Well.

He looked a tad rumpled, but no more than might be expected from a man who spent the last several days over. He had cleaned himself up enough so as not to smell of alcohol, though he imagined they all could guess he was supremely hungover.

“Being mocked by a beautiful woman so early in the day,” Emerson told Nyme with false affront. “Truly, I am wounded! But not to worry- My ego shall recover, and we can always have more snacks brought up if it becomes necessary,” he said with a wink.

“You could’ve been mocked by beautiful women last night Lord Emerson. But I think you were busy with other beautiful women weren’t you?” Nyme handed him a goblet of wine, winking back.

He would rather be anywhere than here- all right, not anywhere, only in his bed- but acting otherwise was second nature.

“Excellent to hear,” Emerson said approvingly as he took his seat, and some food. “I’ve always said bell sleeves are more trouble than they’re worth- They add a nice effect when dancing, but one is liable to drag them through one’s dinner by accident, or worse, a candle.”

“Especially when it comes to heavy fabric I agree. Good eye my Lord.” Meera nodded, agreeing. “Though we do wonder how it is you are so well versed in women’s dresses.” She teased.

“No we don’t.” Mercy piped up, smirking before taking a sip out of her own goblet.

“What we mean to say Lord Emerson, is that the Queen didn’t summon you for fashion advice.” Veora, having abstained from the snacks and wine, explained evenly, putting her book down.

“She summoned you to show you favor, and ask a different sort of advice.” Mercy clarified.

“My ladies have told me about why you are so close to the King Lord Emerson, besides your charming personality of course.” Meera pointed to the blue fabric and nodded, the tailor making note.

“Of course.” Nyme mimicked, it was her who had found out about the vow, she pointed to the scar on his hand and smiled.

Oh goddess, they wanted to talk about that. Emerson steeled himself.

“I don’t know the particulars, but it seems to me to be a silly thing that so trusted a man isn’t invited to family dinner. Meanwhile my ladies are.” Meera mentioned as she considered the table of jewels, taking a necklace and bringing it over to Nyme to try on. “That’s pretty.” She mouthed to her.

“So, I wanted to extend the invitation for the future. This might anger your aunt I’m sure but she’ll get over it in time. And the King needs people he can trust shown the proper favor. As I do.” She regarded her ladies, taking a sip of wine.

“Besides, they can’t take my ladies from me if you attend too.” This was the major and real reason she wanted to extend the invitation to be entirely honest, and as she fixed him with a look she trusted he understood that.

Well, it hadn’t been a barrage of uncomfortable questions about their time on the Wider Sea, so Emerson supposed he should be happy, and he gave a smile to indicate he was. Internally, he was swearing- Vienna would be thrilled to have finally gotten her way.

“How gracious of you,” he said genially. “I would be honored to dine with the royal family. Though I do not think you need to worry too much about access to your ladies- As you have no blood family of your own here at Redhill, I believe Lady Roysa views them as the closest substitutes. You could dine with them as frequently as the King does with Princess Grace with little fuss.”

“They gave us rooms very far from her you know.” Nyme mentioned as she fixed the jewel necklace on Emerson as though he were a mannequin himself.

“That looks pretty on you.” Mercy and Veora both nodded in agreement.

Emerson glanced down at the jewels, laid in silver metal. “I don’t know, I’ve always considered myself to look better in warmer colors,” he said conversationally. “Though I imagine I look good in anything,” he preened with a wink.

Meera gave pause, “It does... Anyhow, the second thing I wanted to ask, given your proclivities for sociable behavior, is your opinion on ladies I might invite to make acquaintance with.”

“And, any young ladies that might make good Queen’s ladies.” Veora added, “They would be tutored in languages and dance and other things, clothed in the latest fashions, and become a close confidante to the Queen.”

“And when the time comes, introduced to excellent matches.” They all rolled their eyes at Nyme’s singular mind.

“All my past ladies have married very well. Well. One married for love, but I raised him in station so technically she did marry well in the end.” Meera fixed one of her silver cuffs on Emerson’s wrist.

“Hmm,” Emerson considered, inspecting the bangle and thinking. “I suppose it depends- Are you interested in ladies who you might personally enjoy spending time with, or ladies who spending time with would be politically beneficial? Or some mixture of both?”

“A mixture of both to make acquaintance with, it’d be helpful to know which is which going in.” Meera went over to the table and started to look through the tiaras.

“But a Queen’s lady must be very... malleable to our purpose.” Veora clarified.

“Someone whose loyalty can be gained and kept. We don’t just keep the Queen company you know.” Mercy’s bluntness was more helpful here, and Veora nodded in agreement. “I started when I was 14. Older ladies probably already have agendas of their own.” She mentioned.

“We’ll probably end up dismissing the little tarts anyway but it’s a nice thought.” Nyme shrugged unkindly.

Emerson snorted.

“That’s not a very generous attitude Nyme. The object isn’t to disgrace ladies, it's to create allies.” Meera chided, choosing a tiara with pale moonstones that matched the jewels in the necklace Emerson was wearing nicely and placed it on his head carefully. “Perhaps families that would be grateful for that kind of recognition…”

“Ugh, stop being so pretty Lord Emerson it’s audacious.” Meera put her hands on her hips and she considered her work thus far.

“He should wear green.” Nyme got up suddenly, to go look for fabric in the shade she had in mind.

“Yes, green.” Meera took Nyme’s seat next to Lord Emerson, making herself comfortable while they spoke and continued to acost the man with pretty things like a doll.

“Ladies, please,” Emerson protested. “I cannot allow you to dress me up so. Let me stand so as not to wrinkle anything,” he decided, standing and adjusting the tiara to sit at a more rakish angle.

“We don’t really have a comparable position, to that of Theren’s ladies in waiting,” Emerson admitted thoughtfully. “And I worry that anything seen as an attempt to initiate a Belethan noblewoman into your ranks would be taken… Poorly.”

The idea that a lady would ‘work’ for another was rare in formal practice, though he knew it happened often enough- Grace’s friends were always eager to help her any projects she came up with and even those she was less close to would likely jump at the chance if asked.

But Meera wasn’t Grace, of course. Even those who were not inclined to dislike her might well be cautious of the new queen.

“I think it’s a bad idea. Just so you know.” Nyme called over her shoulder.

“But if you attend court functions with the other ladies, I do not think you will find they are opposed to making friends,” he said. Even those inclined to dislike her might want to try and win her trust. “My cousin Vienna often organizes little events that ladies at court are all invited to, once a week or so- Riding about the grounds, or going sailing down the river when the weather is better.”

He swallowed down the urge to say something rude about his cousin- Meera was friendly and Emerson hoped that they might one day be genuine friends, but they weren’t there yet.

“There is generally good attendance, across a broad spectrum of the court- If you were to attend one, I think you would able to have more intimate introduction to some of the ladies and begin to take stock of which might suit your needs.”

“We’ll do that, but you really don’t have any pointed directions? Any little suggestions? Any hints?” Meera looked over his shoulder as Nyme found what she was looking for.

“I’ll be honest,” Emerson said. “The things you are looking for in a lady’s company are not the qualifiers I tend to give attention to,” he admitted.

“Any warnings?” Nyme dropped a pale green over Emerson’s shoulder.

Well, she had asked. Emerson could hardly be faulted for answering, could he?

“In my experience, my cousin Vienna is a wretched woman with a poisoned heart,” he declared, somewhat theatrically. “But I did once shove her down a well as a child, so we have never been fated for friendship.”

The women in her close circle certainly seemed to consider Vienna to be a good friend at least.

“Some of the older girls in Princess Grace’s cohort, maybe,” he suggested. They were of noble families already, and the age difference that had made it more difficult for them to become part of Grace’s inner circle might predispose them towards Meera and her ladies. “Lady Alis is supposedly at Redhill so that her younger sister has some family here, but she has never seemed to be much interested in tailing after her sister and the Princess.”

The girl seemed uninterested in many things, if Emerson was being honest- She had a serious expression on her face most of the time, and was rarely seen without a book. But she’d also grown up in the shadow of her outgoing sister and her sister’s best friends, always just a few years too old to enjoy the things they did. And she was smart, and her uncle was a duke and her other uncle a general, and did not seem particularly malicious.

Meera looked at each of her ladies, who were looking at each other and her as well.

“We… haven’t looked there to be honest.” Nyme read the room, she hadn’t taken notice of any Lady Alis either.

“Well there we have it, our hint. Thank you Lord Emerson. Now give us a twirl!” Meera smiled.

Lord Cromwell entered quietly, regarding the scene with some amusement as his Queen and her ladies cheered Lord Emerson on as he… twirled.

Emerson spun about as instructed, the green fabric trailing off his spread arms. He made his circle wider, twirling not in just one spot but about the room, and might have continued until he made himself dizzy if he hadn’t collided with something. Or, someone.

“I’m interrupting aren’t I.” Cromwell announced, though more directly to Lord Emerson himself.

“Ah- A bit,” Emerson admitted, his hands tightening where they had landed on the other man’s shirt for a moment before he withdrew them quickly and straightened the tiara, brushing his hair out his eyes.

He was worried for a moment, about how unhealthy and unattractive he must look when so exhausted, and then quickly discarded the notion. If Queen Meera could handle the dark circles under his eyes, then her chancellor certainly could. And if he didn’t care enough to spend time worrying about it for Meera’s sake, then he of course didn’t care what Cromwell thought either.

Curiously the room became quiet, eyes trained on them. Cromwell dropped his arms abruptly, as Lord Emerson no longer needed steadying. If he perhaps had held them out for slightly longer than necessary it went unnoticed until it was too late to not draw notice.

“I do hope you all haven’t been exhausting Lord Emerson, he seems as though he needs a nap.” Lord Cromwell saved himself by noting Lord Emerson’s unsteadiness as excuse for what probably amounted to absolutely nothing of scrutiny on his part, paranoid as he was of showing favor to anyone in Beleth. Especially anyone with the foxish shrewdness Lord Emerson possessed.

“Fatigue from fun is hardly anything like fatigue from work Lord Blackbird.” Nyme rolled her eyes and faced forward as Cromwell approached.

“And yet they are both fatigue. A letter.” Cromwell handed the folded parchment, unsealed, to his Queen. He trusted no one else but himself to deliver letters of this kind to her as of yet.

She thanked him and set to reading it immediately.

“Green is your colour, Lord Emerson, though perhaps gold would suit you better than silver.” Cromwell noted as he passed the redhead, leaving them to their fabrics and jewels and machinations.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

Location: Grounds of Redhill Castle, up on a bluff overlooking the castle and the city
Interacting: King Avery and Lord Emerson
Timing: Next day from last post

"-And then she brings up Elion's assassination, like that has anything to do with whether I'm weak or I'm merciful or really anything else we've been talking about, and it's suddenly somehow my fault that Theren had him killed- And- Ugh," Avery exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I don't understand what I'm supposed to do!"

"Try kicking that rock again, maybe it'll help this time," Emerson suggested brightly, and Avery shot him a dark look. His foot still hurt from earlier, and Emerson had laughed uproariously at the King's swearing.

"It's just- It had been going so well," Avery sighed, and then paused. He didn't need to look behind him to know Emerson was making a skeptical face. "All right, fine. Not 'well' maybe, but not so badly as I'd feared. And certainly not as terribly as it somehow became."

"Yes, you did seem to be heading on a decent enough trajectory before yesterday morning," Emerson conceded, ripping off a piece from a loaf of bread. They were sitting up on an outlook that overlooked the castle and the city, the trees blocking the worst of the breeze without compromising the view. It was a favored spot of nobles who were willing to make the somewhat arduous hike for picnic lunches and the like- So, really not too many of them. But Avery came often, usually with Emerson behind him, griping about the slope the whole way and complaining they should have gone somewhere their horses could carry them.

"But clearly something went awry- Nothing horrible happened the night before?," Emerson prompted.

"Not that I noticed! I mean- It wasn't any more uncomfortable than the rest of it had been," he insisted. "It must have been her nightmare," he decided. "Making her act all... Irrational."

"Are you sure she really said she wanted there to be no more trade between Beleth and Ruhar? At all?"

Avery looked annoyed to have his word doubted. "My memory is reliable enough that it does not need to be questioned when the events in question have occurred within the week," he said.

"No, I mean- Maybe she just meant she didn't want for Beleth to make any new deals with Ruhar for direct trading, crown to crown," Emerson suggested. "Or maybe she really did mean that you as king should no longer trade with Ruhar, and fail to renew your deals with them, and instead turn to Theren for goods and let Arthur stew... Not that the individual merchants couldn't trade across the border. Which would be very hard to enforce."

"Exactly my point!," Avery said, apparently unaware or uncaring that Emerson's agreement with him on this was contingent on disagreeing with him about what he recalled Meera having said in the first place. "It would be a waste of money to try and enforce, and a waste of goodwill besides! And people would starve," he added.

"Your people," Emerson said astutely, which Avery did not appreciate.

"They are all my people," he said automatically, but there was some truth to what Emerson said. Beleth shared a rocky border with Theren, but an even more mountainous border with Ruhar. The people who lived there had technically been part of Beleth longer than Merid had, but the region had a history of rebellion. The most recent had been put down by King Garret, who had executed the leader- And taken the man's bride as his second wife.

They were arguably the poorest community in Beleth, and Avery knew it was more practical- and more affordable- for them to trade for food products with their neighbors down the other side of the mountain in Ruhar than wait to pay for a trade caravan from someplace like Fremont, who charged extra for the hassle of the winding trails.

"At any rate, she was being completely unreasonable," Avery reiterated with annoyance.

"Vee- when I say something, how often do you know what I actually mean?"

The king frowned at him.

"Depends on the context, I suppose- Much more often than I used to at least," he said wryly, and Emerson snapped his fingers at him, glad his friend had picked up the point without even meaning to.

"You know me, and you know how I communicate," Emerson told him. "Or, mostly you do. You've known Meera- A week? You absolutely do not know how she communicates. Maybe the entirety of what she meant, was not conveyed in what she said," he suggested. "And maybe what she said is not entirely what you heard. Especially if you were cutting her off-"

"I was not cutting her off," Avery insisted, cutting off Emerson as he did so, and the lounging man smiled up at the king like a particularly pleased cat.

"Just admit it, Vee," Emerson teased. "You have been reduced to taking relationship advice from me. How does it feel?"

"I do not come to you for relationship advice," Avery scoffed. "Just for... Perspective."

"I am a wealth of perspective," Emerson crowed, and Avery flopped down next to him on the blanket the guards had spread over the grass, and snatched the bread out of the redhead's hands in petty vengeance. Emerson was unperturbed, and merely helped himself to rest of the food still sitting next to him in the basket.

"Yes, well, do share," Avery told him. "You spent time with her and her ladies yesterday, yes? What did she say?"

Emerson turned to Avery and gave him a withering look.

"Do you want me to tell her about this conversation I'm having with you?"

"Of course not!"

"And, do you want her to trust me and see me as a friend?"

"That would be good, yes," Avery said hesitantly, sensing a trap.

"So, do you think that telling you what I talk about with her- and not returning the favor- would encourage that goal?"

Avery had no immediate reply to that, which was probably for the best, and they sat in silence for a moment as the clouds crossed the sky.

"Could you at least- Give me a general impression? If you think it would be appropriate? Maybe just a warning, if she’s still very upset with me," Avery tried.

"We really didn't talk about you all that much," Emerson said honestly after considering for a beat. "I was a tad disappointed- This was before I knew of your boorish behavior regarding trade deals, so I was hoping I might catch some reviews of your husbandly performances," he teased.

Avery made a dismissive noise. "There weren't any to review," he said shortly.

"Oh all right, perhaps not of the proper 'husbandly' variety," Emerson agreed, since he was aware of Avery's concerns regarding the timing of any potential conception. "But those ladies of hers are concerningly inquisitive. I'm sure before I got there, they were pressing her about the more… interesting activities of the week," he said with a wink, parting the fingers on one hand and putting them to his mouth. He wiggled his tongue obscenely, and Avery looked away.

"There weren't any of those sorts of... activities, either," Avery clarified, and Emerson gaped at him, and slightly regretted having brought this up. What had started as a chance to distract his friend with slight embarrassment had instead turned uncomfortable. But Emerson was hardly one to avoid discomfort.

"I thought you said it had been going relatively well!"

"It was," Avery insisted. "We don't have to have been... It could have been going ‘relatively well’ without that!"

Emerson looked around, making sure the guards were well out of ear shot before they took this conversation any further.

"Vee! You are two young, attractive adults who recently got married who are expected to maintain something resembling a positive physical connection for at least long enough to reap the rewards in the form of a few heirs! Are you really telling me you did nothing- the entire week- to facilitate such a future relationship?"

"Um-"

"Something with the hands? Above the waist maybe? At least some heavy petting?"

Emerson clearly knew the answer, but couldn't stop himself from asking anyways.

"Wait- You took a bath together," Emerson said, half in a tone of triumphant recollection and half accusatory.

"No," Avery corrected. "She took a bath."

"But you were there! You were talking with her, you said," Emerson insisted.

"I was just sitting there! Not in the tub," Avery clarified. "Outside the tub."

"You were just... Sitting next to her while she bathed? With your clothes on?"

"Yes," Avery said, not really sure why Emerson needed to make such a big deal of this.

"And she let you? You really are an idiot, Vee," Emerson said with exasperation, hitting Avery lightly on his side. "Women don't take long soaks while their husbands sit on the edge of the tub fully clothed unless they have some sort of interest in him becoming less clothed."

Avery was silent for a long moment, not looking over at his friend.

"I'm not going to... Assume anything," he said eventually. "After everything with...." He trailed off.

Regardless of whose name he said next, he was rapidly approaching the territory of things they avoided talking about.

"Well. I'd just rather- Not," Avery said instead.

Emerson hit him again, though much more gently.

"It is somewhat different, you know," he told Avery.

"Not different enough," Avery replied bitterly, and Emerson had no clever return for that.

"She may not have chosen you, but she's here now," Emerson finally said. "And she probably has some expectations for what that looks like. Your noble intentions might be coming across as… Dismissive and rude. Unless you’ve already communicated all of this to her?”

Avery did not give a rapid and affirmative answer, so Emerson guessed that was a ‘no’ then.

“It’s not just that you don’t know each other,” Emerson reiterated. “You come from different cultures. What may seem like an obvious cue to you, could be something she won’t even pick up on. And vice versa,” he mused. “I mean- Don’t they prefer to give birth in water in Theren?Maybe they prefer to conceive there, too,” he said suddenly, as though he had made some great connection. “Goddess, Vee! She might have been trying to seduce you and you couldn’t even be arsed to notice!”

The look Avery gave him was baleful. “I think I would notice if someone was trying to seduce me,” he said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Emerson muttered darkly.

“Hmm?,” Avery asked.

“Just complaining to myself- They didn’t give us that cheesy bread I like,” Emerson replied, and Avery rolled his eyes.

“I’m just saying- You have to talk to her,” Emerson repeated firmly. “About- All of it, really.”

“I’ve tried! She’s just so-”

“Try. Harder,” Emerson said, and Avery sighed.

“I’ll do what I can,” he reluctantly agreed. “I think I’m going to have to apologize for the fight as it is, so. She certainly isn’t going to do so,” he said with a hint of annoyance.

“You haven’t talked about it at all?”

“Ah. Well. I was busy most of the day, and- By the time I was ready to go to bed she was already asleep so-”

“So you’ve been avoiding her,” Emerson surmised. Correctly.

“She’s been avoiding me too!”


“Maybe she's been ‘busy’,” Emerson suggested. “But yes, you should apologize. If not for what you said, at least for how you said it.”

He knew Avery well enough to know his friend wasn’t going to recant his statements simply for the sake of keeping the peace.

“And give her the godsdamned horse, too. That’ll probably help to get you back in her better graces.”

“I have to pick one first,” Avery pointed out.

“You spent the better part of yesterday afternoon examining some of the best horses available from several countries, and none of them met your standards?”

“Several of them met my standards,” Avery protested. “The problem is I don’t know what her standards are- I’m thinking I should maybe just ask her?”


Emerson chuckled. “There may be hope for you yet, Your Majesty.”


“Really? You don’t think it will ruin the surprise?”


“Oh, it will totally ruin the surprise- Especially if you just ask her what she likes in a horse and then vanish off to the stables. But if you present it appropriately- as a chance for her to pick her own steed- I think it could go over quite well.”


Avery made a contemplative sound as he considered how to proceed, and they were quiet for a bit.


“I swear I was going to let this go, but actually I can’t,” Emerson said abruptly, looking over at his friend. “You’ve kissed her, right?”


Avery’s exasperated sigh indicated that he would have really preferred if Emerson had indeed let it go.

“Yes. Multiple times. You were there, remember?”


“Gods, Vee, your wedding celebrations don’t count,” Emerson retorted. “Those were… Formal. Expected. But you two have to look comfortable with each other. And comfortable with affection between each other.”


“I’m a fairly private person,” Avery reminded his friend. It wasn’t like he went around showering even his sister with affection in public. He figured his court would be much more alarmed if he started kissing Meera all over Redhill than if he didn’t.

“Her Majesty can’t afford for you to be too private of a person, not until she’s more established here. Neither can you,” Emerson chided. “Look- Being queen makes her a social target as it is. Being someone with the affection of a king, also makes her a social target.”

Avery nodded slowly. He only had to look at the way the other nobles circled Emerson and his other few close companions like sharks smelling blood in the water to know that his friendship could be more of a curse than a blessing.

“But,” Emerson continued. “Being a queen who does not have the affection of her king- That is much worse.”

Avery thought of his mother and her time as queen, and knew Emerson was right.

“Now, I have done a truly spectacular job of seeding this court with the knowledge that you are quite fond of Her Majesty,” the redhead bragged. Some of his best work, really.

“And now people will think I hate her if I don’t live up to that,” Avery surmised with a heavy sigh.

“No, no, don’t worry, we aren’t expecting you to live up to it,” Emerson clarified, and Avery could only assume the ‘we’ meant Emerson and Roysa. He'd almost liked it better when they'd been at odds with each other. “Actually, it would be awful if you did.”

Avery was reminded of his conversation with Meera- She would lose respect if she was seen as a pretty face just manipulating him, or she would lose authority if seen as a pretty face just entertaining him.

“But people need to see that you like her and respect her if they are ever going to be convinced to do the same- And if they don’t have any evidence of that, they’ll start undermining her power before she can even build it first. Or do you want the greater houses to start throwing potential mistresses in your path again?”

That would hardly be the least of it, Avery supposed, but it would certainly be very unpleasant for him. Some of those girls- and a few boys, too- had been so unsubtle that he hadn’t even needed Emerson or one of his spymasters to tell him that they were probably informants.

“... I’ll work on being more affectionate,” Avery conceded, and Emerson laughed.

“Don’t strain yourself, Vee! It doesn’t have to be big- Just hold her hand at breakfast in front of the servants. Kiss her on the cheek when you greet her before a meeting. Take her for a spin on the dance floor during a banquet more than just the opening dance that is required. It does have to be soon, though. I don’t think anyone knows you are currently at odds, but that’s not going to last much longer, now that you are both out and about.”

Avery sighed. “Apologize- for something that was still not my fault, discuss our intimate life, get her a horse, and start kissing her around other people,” he listed. “Anything else you’d like to request?”

“I’m thinking five displays of affection a day,” Emerson said with glee at being able to order Avery around. “I’ll be generous, and say that mouth kisses will count for two, provided someone outside your immediate circle sees it, even if chaste and brief,” he continued. “In two weeks, I shall assess your progress and we will set further goals, though of course I may intervene before then if I feel it is required-”

It was Avery who hit Emerson this time, and the latter dropped his pompous tone and made a far more dramatic cry than was really necessary.

“You are the worst,” Avery informed him. “I don’t know why I spend time with you.”

“My charming personality and sparkling good looks?”

“Definitely not,” Avery retorted with a chuckle. “Seeing as you have neither.”

Emerson fell over, clutching his chest as though he had been inflicted with a mortal strike to the heart.

“Well, your new wife seems keen to keep me around, so you better get used to my ugly face,” Emerson told him. “I’ll have you know- She’s invited me to attend dinners with you as ‘family’.”

Avery winced. “Shit, I’m sorry- I’ll get you out of it somehow-”

“Don’t bother,” Emerson said with a shrug. He didn’t want for Avery to counteract one of the first decisions Meera had made. And besides- “You don’t really have ‘family dinners’ more than once a week as it is. And even if you set an official place for me at the high table for court functions, Goddess knows I rarely sit still at parties.”

“Your uncle won’t appreciate that,” Avery frowned.

“Let me worry about my family and their interests in my utility,” Emerson said airly. He’d figure something out if they got too pushy.

“I’m more concerned about Her Majesty’s interest in such matters- She seems to consider finding her ladies ‘a good match’ to be of importance. I hate to think I might have led her to believe I could be such a man, but,” Emerson continued in a tone of mock seriousness. “I don’t know how to dissuade her of such a notion without demonstrating my unsuitability in ways that might forever mar our blossoming friendship and show her that I am in fact a cad and a blemish upon polite society-”

Avery snorted.

“She does have brains, Emerson. And her ladies seem to have them too. Even if any were to think of you as a potential suitor, I’m sure she would know to encourage them otherwise.”

“Again, you underestimate my fine features and singular charm! Any member of the Theren retinue might- at this very moment- be imagining a passionate romance with yours truly,” he declared theatrically. “And I fret over the hearts I shall have to break!”

“Temper your worries, then,” Avery told him with a slight smile. “I’ll add ‘remind Meera that you are a bastard in both birth and personality’ to the list, and advise her that your gentlemanly airs are all fakery, and her ladies should look elsewhere for good matches.”

“Excellent! I simply could not eat at your table with a clear conscience, if I feared I was being assessed as marriage material under false pretenses.”

“Of course not,” Avery agreed, amused at Emerson’s antics even if he might have found them annoying or confusing in someone else. “We cannot have our new Theren allies thinking of you as a decent man and a good friend.”

“No,” Emerson said with a smile that would likely have come across as false to even those who didn’t know him, “No, we can’t have that at all.”

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle, Stableyard- Royal Stables
Interacting: King Avery & Queen Meera, various stablehands
Timing: Next day from last post

This was stupid. What had Avery been thinking? He should have apologized to her at breakfast, he thought, and gotten it out of the way. Instead of sitting there awkwardly and rehearsing it in his head until she had finally stood and left and they’d barely said anything at all besides ‘good morning’.

It had seemed like a fine plan when he’d made it- He would send Maxwell with a message that he wanted to meet her at the stables after he was done with the afternoon guard review for the day, and he would apologize and present her with the different horses and everything would be fine, or at least not quite so bad.

Except now there was dirt on his sleeves and his hair wouldn’t return to its tie in a nice orderly manner and he was still a bit sweaty and there was a scrape on his cheek where one of the new guards from Theren had managed to hit him and maybe sending Maxwell with a message would come across like he was just summoning her with no respect for her own schedule - Well. He could hardly get the message back now, so.

He ducked back into the private stable stall to review the items inside. Reya’s saddle blanket, which had been cleaned of blood and sewn back together with such fine stitches that you could barely see where it had been sliced through. The newly molded saddle, made with an attachment so that she could hang a picnic basket from it and have lunch out in the grounds. A selection of fine leathers she could pick from to finish the saddle in, and bridles to match each.

A pair of new black riding boots, with gold detailing along the sides- Feathers instead of the laurel leaves they might be assumed to be at first glance. A set of grooming brushes with matched handles hung along one wall, and a narrow table held a collection of other supplies, a bowl of sugar cubes and a small bound book that folded out into a map showing what he considered the best riding trails of the vast Redhill grounds, with occasional details about rough terrain or particularly nice views.

He tested the hinges and latches of the doors and the shutters over the upper grills and found them to be squeak free. One door led into the royal stable and the other into a private grazing yard. The large stall and the yard had technically been his last week, but he wasn’t hurt to give them up. Llamrei preferred the oats and hay given to her fresh each day by the stablehands, and seemed to find the idea of standing out in the sun to eat grass of little interest.

He left the freshly scrubbed and polished stall and shut its door, and went to stand at the stall to the left, where the large brown mare looked at him plaintively.

“Oh, you’re fine,” he chided gently, reaching through the bars of the grill to stroke along her nose. “We went riding with Emerson yesterday, and I know for a fact that my guards spoiled you with apples. We’ll go out again later this week,” he promised, as if the stablehands didn’t ensure she got her exercise regardless of Avery’s own schedule, and the dark brown mare huffed and began snuffling at his sleeve as though there might be a treat for her hidden against his wrist.

There was movement at the far entrance to the royal stables and Avery straightened instantly, but it was only a young stablehand holding a pitchfork and looking surprised to see Avery standing there.

“Your Majesty! I didn’t- I’m sorry, no one conveyed to us that you were taking Llamrei out,” he apologized. “We’ll have her ready for you momentarily-”

“No need,” Avery said curtly. “I’m just meeting Her Majesty here. We will not be going out today.”

The more senior stable staff knew what he was doing of course- they had helped out with a good portion of it, after all- but apparently no one had thought to tell the young shoveler to stay out of the way.

The boy stared at him uncertainly, until Avery snapped, “You can leave now,” and he bowed hurriedly and scuttled away, quite nearly spearing the Queen through as he did so.

She squealed unceremoniously in surprise as she jumped back to avoid the prongs.

“Oh gods!! your Majesty I am so very sorry please-” The beet red stable boy stammered hurriedly.

“That’s alright, no harm done. Goodness that gave me a fright is all.” Meera laughed, clutching her chest and stepping away, trying to reassure the poor shoveler before he passed out in grief as he looked about to do.

“Don’t let me interrupt you, be on your way, I’m fine.” She scrunched her nose and waved him off as he tried to bow and gave him the excuse he needed to escape.

“Phew.” She let out a deep breath and approached where her husband was standing, clearing her throat and trying to school her expression back from amusement.

“And close that door,” Avery shouted after the boy, who hurried back again to shut the large door to the stable’s entrance. It thudded closed, and Avery and Meera were alone.

Avery cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Queen Meera,” he greeted her with a slight bow once she was near, and she returned with a small cursty. “I trust-”

He didn’t trust she had been well, actually. It seemed a presumptive thing to say.

“I shall be straightforward,” he said, deciding to forgo asking how her day had been going. He dreaded getting trapped in small talk when he had a purpose. “I have asked you to join me here for two reasons.”

He took a deep breath.

“First, I should like to apologize for my earlier behavior. I regret that our discussion turned argumentative,” he said, which was true enough. “I am afraid you caught me on poor footing, as I am unused to having entirely new trade initiatives sprung at me while still in my sleep clothes. It seems likely we misunderstood each other,” he offered as a neutral way to absolve them both of blame. “And in the future I shall try to make sure I fully comprehend what you are proposing before I pass judgement on it.”

He was apologizing? In the stables? Perhaps that was why both ends were shuttered, she looked around, realizing they were actually alone save for the horses inside. Well it was smart of him to make sure that they were alone, thoughtful too, but this could’ve been easier to do in their rooms. This was all very planned and careful, and for some reason seemed uncharacteristic of him despite the fact that she didn’t know him well. Though in her anger the past few days she admitted to herself that she’d been thinking of him as undeservedly stupid.

She prickled slightly when she realized that his apology was as careful as his location of choice, very formal and worded in a way that didn’t absolve herself of blame and made excuses for them both. Still, he was apologizing, and before she had too. It saved her the need to choke on her dignity and be diplomatic, a thing much harder to do here and for him than it had ever been in her lifetime. Perhaps because with him it really did feel like choking down her dignity, rather than advantageously playing to her strengths as a facilitator.

Meera really despised how complicated everything was between them, and how helpless she seemed to be around him.

Still. He was apologizing.

She rubbed her arms and took a breath, pausing before beginning, “I’m sorry too.” She gulped. “I acted so rashly.” She shook her head, glancing at her feet and stepping closer, “I was unfair and I think my fears are starting to get the better of me. These past few days I’ve missed being able to even speak to you. Convinced you must have started to hate me.” She searched his eyes with her own, speaking softly, so he had to lean in a little closer.

He clearly wanted to clear things between them and cared about their peace if he was willing to apologize first. It went a good deal towards calming her fears. Even if he couldn’t apologize properly, she could and would, and lay it on thick while she was at it too.

Avery frowned. Why would he possibly hate her?
“... I missed you, too,” he admitted after a beat, surprised to find it was true. “I suppose I should also apologize for having been avoiding you,” he added. “I could say I have been busy and had things to work on, and that would be true, but it is also true that I was unsure of how to… Overcome our stumble and was afraid of how to address it.”

Though she seemed to be handling it quite well- He had certainly hoped she might apologize in turn, but he hadn’t really been expecting it. He should have done it much earlier.

“You were busy, I know, of course you were. A King is always busy. Well. A good one is in any case, it means he cares about his work.” A slow smile crept onto Meera’s cheeks as she artfully let him off the hook for taking his time in speaking with her.

“I only hope in the future that you can share more of that burden with me. I’d be happy to carry it with you.” She rocked on the balls of her feet, her arms lowering to clasp loosely in front of her. Right now, if he would be so inclined, would be the perfect moment to kiss her. But Meera had a feeling that he was much too awkward to do such a thing. Perhaps she should kiss him? No. She could do that later, she found herself flushing a little at the thought.

Avery smiled slightly. “Well, some of it needed to be kept secret from you,” he admitted. “Since usually I try not to tell people about the gifts I am planning for them until they are ready.” He gestured to the door of the large stall and then opened it so she could step inside.

Her eyes widened, she drew in a sharp breath. “I wondered why the stables were the place you chose to speak to me in private. That was sneaky, and well done. Consider me surprised and charm-” As she entered she noticed the table of things her gift would include, her eyes zeroing in on what was unmistakably Reya’s blanket. She rushed over to it, feeling and inspecting it, noticing where it had been stitched together only by squinting, confirming that it must have been Reya’s.

Meera had assumed that it had been left behind, she teared up a little as she smiled. “Oh Avery it’s Reya’s blanket, that’s so thoughtful. It’s as if nothing had ever happened to it.” Or Reya, was left unsaid. But that even Avery could never fix, no one could. Meera turned around and wiped her eyes, pulling him into a hug by his shoulders. “Thank you.”

Avery startled a bit at the hug, but after a moment he stiffly returned it with a pat on her back.

“I thought- My saddle blanket from my first pony was turned into a little stuffed dog, when I was a boy,” he said. “And Grace has taken parts from some of hers and worked them into tapestries. We could do something similar, if you’d like. Or you can keep using it for its intended purpose,” he added.

Meera released him but kept a light hold on his arms, willing them to relax in her hands as she nodded along. She wasn’t going to let the stoic in him win against her.

“I want to get you a horse,” he clarified, in case she had somehow missed that. “And I have a few I think would be good choices, but I couldn’t decide because I wasn’t sure what it was you valued in your steeds,” he began to ramble. “So we can go look at those, but if you don’t like any of them, that’s fine- There’s a horse fair in the spring that will have horses from all over, and some from Theren too, if that’s what you’d prefer. And you can use any of the castle’s horses until then, or my mare Llamrei,” who knickered in the next stall over at the sound of her name, “Whatever you’d like.”

Charmed by Llamrei the Queen smiled in her direction, “Well she is a beautiful mare but before I steal her from you let’s see if we can’t find one that suits me.” She linked her arm into the crook of his to be led out, glancing back at her new stall. “Those boots are beautiful, did you pick them out?” She’d been so preoccupied with Reya’s blanket that she hadn’t really taken a very good look at the other things neatly laid out in the stall.

“I had them made,” he replied. There was a cobbler in the city that he often commissioned for any shoes that were going to see more than formal use and ballrooms. “They may look a tad too large, but they are lined for warmth and to keep out water, so the inside measurements will match those of the shoes you already own.”

He led her to the far end of the stable and opened the door there, where half a dozen stablehands waited with the horses he had decreed to be acceptable. He was uncomfortably aware of her hand wound through his elbow and reminded himself to stop being so aware of it and just let it be.

“Don’t feel you have to choose immediately,” he reassured her. “You can have plenty of time with any of them.”

He pointed first to a lithe black stallion with a large patch of white across his back, interrupted by a spray of black spots.

“I know you like speed, and this fellow was bred for it,” Avery explained. “But we do have fewer open fields here in Redhill, and more unwieldy terrains,” he warned.

“One of the finest specimens I’ve seen of the sure-footed mountain horses,” he said, nodding next to the bay mare. “She won’t let you stumble over rocks or stream.”

“But if you are looking for a challenge, or at least a bit of a project,” he continued with a gesture at the golden palomino, “This gelding is still young- He’s from fine stock, but he will need further training if you are up to it.”

The selection was impressive, handsome as well as varied in type and skill. Apparently Avery was taking special care to cover his bases. The thoughtfulness of the gesture pleased her just as much, if not more, than they thought of receiving a new riding friend. She was no expert in breeding but she had a healthy appreciation for it. There was certainly a beautiful array before her now, and she nodded along as he listed off the horses lined up.

A stallion’s angry scream to their far left, around the corner of the stables, caught Meera’s attention, and for a reason that could only be described later as fate, she felt she should leave her hold of Avery and investigate the ruckus.

A senior stablehand she recognized as Ronan struggled with a large dapple grey stallion whose white mane reminded her of Reya’s, long and luxurious. He landed from his buck with a huff, stomping angrily at the man who dared to try to pull him along. Meera watched as the horse tugged sharply at his reins, causing the stablehand to surge forward so he could bite him. It was only thanks to Ronan’s quick reflexes and experience that he was saved. Meera gasped and laughed as the stablehand danced out of the way, unperturbed by the abuse the steed leveled against him.

“Sorry for the disturbance your Majesties, we’re just passing by.” He bowed, careful to keep both wary eye and a certain distance from the dapple, who took one look at Meera and whinnied.

“Or trying to, I should think.” Meera smirked as she gazed back at the dapple steed.

“Trying is the key there yeah. Beggin’ your pardon your Majesty, but- you should probably give this guy a wide berth. This one’s been givin’ us a lot of trouble, would’ve sent him away if he weren’t such a fine specimen.” Ronan tried to move him again but the dapple just shook his head, making the man give him more rope.

Avery frowned at the sudden lack of Meera at his side and quickly followed after her, reaching out for her arm- Not to pull her back from the angry stallion, but so that he might at least stop her if she tried to get any closer.

The horse flared its nostrils in his direction, and Avery dropped his hand and stepped back again, concerned for Ronan’s safety.

“I thought Iyen was in charge of him, did you send her home early,” Avery said, asking after the female trainer. She wasn’t the only woman who worked in the stables, but she was one of the few who had made it to the rank of trainer and was trusted with the royal steeds.

“Fractured her arm in a fall just yesterday, Your Majesty,” Ronan reported. “Looks like she’ll recover just fine, but a poor shake for me! I’ll be dealin’ with ‘im for now, least ‘til I can convince one of the younger lasses to take him on!”

“He seems to react badly to men,” Avery told Meera to fill her in on why Ronan was so sorry to see Iyena on leave. He doubted any of the younger lasses wanted to take the stallion on and the men who worked in the stables had been kicked enough to keep well clear.

“He’s beautiful…” Meera couldn’t take her eyes off of him, he was simultaneously just like Reya and the direct opposite of her.

Where Reya was a lithe and small mare this stallion was large and sturdy, but both were dapple greys with that luxurious pretty mane. He seemed equally as focused on her as she was on him, his head and ears pointed at her, suddenly uninterested in bucking and stomping at Ronan.

“Seeing as how I am not a man Ronan perhaps I can get him to cooperate, I’m sure I can bribe him with a sugar cube at least.” Meera moved towards where Ronan was, he seemed unsure about the idea, looking towards the King but in truth the dapple was cooperating at the moment.

“Here.” Ronan handed his Queen the lead rope and fished in his pocket, “I think I’m out of sugar, damn beast swindled me out of ‘em.” He wagged his finger at the dapple, whose ears went back, as if indignant at the accusation.

“I’ve got some,” Avery said against his better judgement, pulling a few from his pocket. He held them out in his hand for Meera to come retrieve, wary of getting any closer to the horse. “Be careful,” he warned, but it was more of a wish than a chastisement.

Meera licked her lips as she carefully took the sugar cubes from Avery, excited. A realization was on the brink of dawning on her.

“No need to worry my King, a little sweetness goes a long way towards quelling any angry man.” She jested, eyes twinkling as she gazed at her new charge, closing the distance between them slowly.

He sniffed, knowing full well what she was holding, she caved and gave him one, stroking his neck as he enjoyed his treat.

“I know just where you need to go, come with me.” Meera led him with little trouble, keeping his head close to hers. She led him all the way to her new stall and continued to lead him inside, where she let him loose.

“He’s perfect.” Meera declared, meeting Avery at the door, “Him, definitely him.” The faint sound of her new steed raiding the bowl of sugar at the workbench could be heard to the backdrop of Ronan starting to laugh his head off.

Avery’s mouth settled back into his frequent frown. Really? She had to pick that horse?

“Ronan,” he snapped. “Has he ever thrown Iyen?”

“No, Your Majesty,” Ronan reported, clearing his throat.

“She tested riding him in different conditions?”

“Ay, Your Majesty- He did fine on the rock path tests, even in the rain. Does jumps and turns well, too. Excellent reflexes.”

Avery sighed. He supposed he couldn’t really object.

“He’ll probably do a good job of protecting me against any strange men.” Meera added, though conveniently did not mention that he was just as likely to bite or kick at friendly ones too.

“He’s yours, my queen,” he told Meera. To Ronan he added, “Have someone copy down for Her Majesty any notes on his training and progress that Iyena might have made when she was working with him, would you? And review the rotation so there’s always at least one female hand working in the royal stables.”

He didn’t want some poor boy scared shitless when he came to refill the oats or shovel out the stalls.

“Aye your Majesty.” Ronan nodded

“Does he have a name?” Meera asked.

“Uhhhh, well we’ve been calling him something your Majesty but it isn’t really his name no.” Ronan put it diplomatically, shuffling his feet.

“Arion.” She declared. Her father’s horse had been named Arion as well, he died in battle with him.

“Arion.” He parroted back.

“It’s a fine name! Fits him, he’s Arion now- did you eat all that sugar?! Your dinner is utterly ruined now you naughty man.” Meera became distracted from the two and tended to her now very spoiled new steed, letting him out into his adjoining yard, which he took to happily.

“I know he might cause some trouble but he’s so beautiful and perfect and I’m in love with him.” Meera sighed wistfully as she came back.

“Then that’s all that matters,” Avery said with a soft smile. “I’m afraid I promised I would check in with one of Grace’s tutors before the afternoon was out, so I must take my leave,” he apologized. “But you are welcome to stay longer. Though- I hope I will see you at dinner?,” he asked tentatively.

“I’ll meet you there.” Meera promised.

“I look forward to it,” Avery said, taking her hand in both of his and pressing his lips to it in farewell.

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera

Location: Redhill - Lord Cromwell's Office | Interacting with: Lord Chancellor Cromwell

Meera yawned, it was a long day of planning, though much of the castle’s nobles were preparing for the days of rest and festivities ahead, a lot of work had to go into the amusement they would be enjoying.

“I still think the taxes are much too high, I told him as much but there isn’t much to be done about it until trade with us has opened. My mother is prepared to strike down the trade sanction law and has sent informants to the merchant’s league. Once the coin starts flowing then there can be good reason to lower taxes.” She thought aloud.

“In any case, it would be good for people to associate the taxes lowering with the opening of trade with Theren.” Cromwell pointed out from where he sat, gently feeding his pup, whose eyes had now opened.

“Good point.” She watched him treat the small creature with soft care in bemusement, having never seen him quite like this, brow furrowed in his focus to the little thing.

“Did you get anywhere with the lumber?”

“Lord Fremont, along with a few other Barons are prepared to sell to us as soon as the grain deal goes through. I even got Lord Fremont to begin hiring laborers to get a head start. He’s eager to make money with us I think, despite his proudness.” Cromwell hadn’t expected to be dealing with Lord Fremont, but somehow the man had gotten word that he was looking to deal with regions that had the lumber to spare.

Meera nodded, thinking, “Mercy has spread the rumor here and there in the capital, that trade will open up soon. But she got caught sneaking her way back in apparently.” She chuckled. “The guards weren’t happy about it, she promised never to do it again.”

Cromwell tsked, “Better that she should promise not to get caught again.” Though to be sure, these guards were much more difficult to evade than any she had dealt with before. Even he had to adjust to the discomfort of being watched constantly. It wasn’t so much that the castle’s security measures were so extensive that bothered him, but that they were necessary. He did not take the royal family’s history of dead relatives lightly.

“I think she welcomes the fresh challenge.” Meera nodded, becoming quiet as she watched Cromwell finish up his task and clean up. The pup settled down in his basket to sleep with little fuss, his full belly lulling him to sleep.

“Alekxander can’t seem to sleep on his own anymore, though Veora hardly discourages him. I think she’s taken to him, she seems happy to attend his lessons and help him along.” Meera had meant to spend more time with the boy, but she always seemed to be needed elsewhere. He’d begun attending private lessons with various tutors, he was uneducated and didn’t know how to read or write so he couldn’t attend lessons with any boys his own age yet. She thought that might be a good thing though, as he seemed sensitive and much too delicate to handle roughing around with the other boys.

Veora had his parent’s likeness, not exact unfortunately because the bodies were already buried, made to add to her own family shrine. Alekxander seemed to take comfort in praying to them in this way. He was talking more and seemed animated enough to banter with Nyme while they traded blows with wooden swords in any case.

Cromwell didn’t answer, didn’t even nod, he seemed utterly uninterested in the boy in a deliberate way. Perhaps his apathy would have fooled someone else but Meera had known him for too long to not suspect something when he didn’t try to manage every detail of something. He didn’t like the boy, didn’t like that he was here. But true to his station he had come up with a way for the boy to stay indefinitely. The boy had become her ward through Theren law, and was now considered part of her household and thus entitled to whatever care she saw fit. As technically a subject of Theren he was now no longer subject to the scrutiny of Belethan custom, mostly.

It was all very clever.

“You’re still not with child?” Cromwell knew full well that she wasn’t, but it was a less crude way to inquire as to why the royal marriage had yet to be consummated.

“Well… no.” Meera turned her head towards the crackling fire, adjusting her shawl for warmth.

“You’re sure?” He pressed.

“Spirits… Just ask what you mean to ask, as if you don’t know. Nyme probably told you.” Meera sighed, annoyed.

“It isn’t to work against you my Queen, you know that. We are all invested in the success of your Majesty’s marriage and your reign. It will never be more secure than if you produce an heir.” He reminded her, voice gentler than before.

“Two.” Meera rose from her seat, beginning to wander. “I have to make two, one for Beleth and one for Theren. And Beleth wants a male issue to be secure in.” She remembered this particular part of their peace treaty very clearly. If she failed to produce an heir for Beleth, he was free to take another wife. Another Queen to threaten her influence.

Meera had been enjoying his attentions more and more this past month, this week especially. She loved it most when he kissed her on her brow after breakfast, before they parted ways in the morning to their respective duties. She would steal sweet little kisses herself, whenever their heads were close, or they sat in bed and read something before falling asleep. One such kiss he pulled her back into last night, and it became a little heated before he stopped. She had gone to bed a little dizzy from it.

“But I don’t think you have to worry about it for much longer. I’m planning something. And besides, things have been going well between us.” Meera smiled to herself, stopping in front of the fire. She felt she was beginning to understand his nature now, “He’s very sweet to me, and thoughtful. I think he’s just waiting for me to be comfortable. I mean to show him tomorrow after the festivities that I am.”

The day of the Hunt, though minor, was a day much looked forward to by most of the castle’s men and a number of women who enjoyed the sport or just riding along. In truth, any old day could be a day of hunt, but on hunting day the whole affair seemed that much more special. After all, it was to honor one of their many goddesses, what better excuse to dedicate your time to amusement?

It did however, seem to leave a number of people behind, those who had no interest in hunting as a sport and those who were not very good riders. The day’s catches tended to be rare too, as the day was neither enough time to catch much of any worth and the party usually much too big to lend stealth as an advantage. It all ended up being a lot of riding around and heavy drinking mostly. Something Meera thought she could improve upon a great deal and had discussed only in part with Cromwell.

“I’ve organized plain masks and toy bows and arrows to be made for the ladies.”

“How considerate of you, lest all the men in the castle end up looking like pincushions.” Cromwell interrupted.

“They’ve all been instructed to wear feathers in their hair and dress in their furs. While the men…” Meera pulled out a wrapped parcel and handed it to Cromwell, smiling widely and clearly pleased with herself.

Cromwell looked at the parcel suspiciously as he took it, it was much bigger than the parcels he had seen sent out to the other nobles, so what was this? He carefully unwrapped it, raising a brow at her.

“I am not wearing this.” Cromwell posthumously declared.

“You have to!” Meera whined, “It’ll look so good Lord Blackbird it’s perfect for you and what’s more I am your Queen and you have to do what I say!” She shrugged, amused at her infallible logic.

Cromwell heaved a great sigh, “If I wear this I will not participate in the hunt.” He bargained.

“I accept the terms of our negotiation Lord Blackbird. I don’t want you ruining your feathered capelet by running around anyway. You’ll look much too stately for such silliness.” Meera revelled in her success. The blackbird mask and matching capelet were made with him specifically in mind after all, as was Lord Emerson’s fox mask and new fur collar she sent him. The emerald on the clasp of the collar reminded her of the green in his hazel eyes. The fur would hold up much better for the running around involved in the hunting game they were going to play, and it wasn’t difficult at all to imagine Lord Emerson running around enjoying himself. The two, save for the King and herself, would be the best dressed for the event there, even if one of them couldn’t be persuaded to participate in half of the day’s activities.

“You’ll at least participate in the archery competition won’t you?” Meera had considered holding a javelin toss competition as well, but archery competitions were simple to set up and she didn’t want the day to turn into an expensive tourney.

“No.” He deadpanned.

Or perhaps her Chancellor wasn’t going to participate in any of the day’s activities. “But you’re the only one who has any hope of beating Veora.” It usually came down to a competition between the two of them, as others simply did not compare.

“I wouldn’t dream of outshining our gentle Lady when she has a Baroness to impress.” Cromwell’s eyes twinkled with his smirk, they had all been giving Lady Veora the space and privacy she desired in spending time with Baroness Elleni. Though they still all hoped the best from the sidelines, as the Baroness was the best situation of marriage she could hope for. “In any case, you’re forgetting that there may be others with a sharp aim to contend with in the castle.”

“And you don’t engage unless you know what you’re dealing with do you? Not if you can help it. Well, at the very least you can’t get out of the dinner. My Chancellor has to be there.” She reminded him.

“That, I can’t seem to avoid, though to be sure I shall enjoy watching the day’s activities even if I do not participate.” He clarified, not wanting her to think he intended to hide away in his office on her first organized event.

“Oh good you won’t play with everyone you’ll just be busy looming over them.” She joked.

“As one does.” He confirmed.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Cromwell

Location: Redhill - The Hunting Festival| Interacting with: Lady Vienna

The first day of festivities was going extremely well, everyone had woken up excited, sensing this year would be different, interesting, and dramatic. Everywhere Cromwell went people were smiling and twirling around, the masks, a thing popularly used in Theren parties, seemed to be doing their jobs well. Masquerades offered people a sort of plausible deniability with their actions, it offered a mischievous facade with which to act out in. When the masks went on the inhibitions went down, and it was as much true here as it was back home.

Cromwell stood, a silent sentry, at the entrance to the wooded area they were using as their running ground for the hunting game. Whereby the men ran away, wearing their various masks of creatures commonly hunted, and the women had to catch one in order to secure her first dance at the dinner later. He was joined by lounging and meandering elder nobles who didn’t participate in the game for obvious reasons.

The ladies of the court had been having fun all morning testing their toy bows and arrows, harmless blunted things that didn’t seem to have very much range or impact but offered their necessary amusement. He personally thought they were the genius touch to the whole thing, that and the masks, and perhaps the freeflowing wine. He hadn’t had much of a hand in the planning, if he had it wouldn’t have turned out so well. Parties were never his area of expertise. Dazzling people was his Queen’s talent. Blackmailing them was his.

His thoughts were interrupted by a dull thump on his back, he turned his head and cocked his brow. A triumphant redhead he supposed was Lady Vienna circled him, stringing another arrow. Most all of the Fremonts were blessed with those fire kissed locks, and picking them out tended to be easy, even in a mask.

“Lord Chancellor Cromwell,” Vienna greeted with a smile. “I do hope you didn’t think that failing to run meant you weren’t playing the game,” she chided. “All you’ve done is make yourself an easy target!”

Cromwell snorted, her conniving talent with courtly manners impressed him somewhat, though he appreciated being on the receiving end of them less.

“I’m a terrible dance partner Lady Vienna, I’m not sure your target of choice is the wisest.” In truth, Cromwell had actually managed to go his entire time here without dancing, publicly at least. The Queen and her ladies had roped him in to their dance lessons while they all learned popular belethan sets. He wasn’t actually terrible at it but he also had little interest in indulging people he simply did not care about and had nothing to do with.

“No need to be modest, I’m sure you have many other talents,” Vienna said pleasantly. “I shall make sure we keep on step for us both,” she told him. “I think I’ve made an excellent choice and I won’t hear otherwise- Neither myself nor my dance partner will have mud on our hems, after all!”

Cromwell was interrupted by another dull thump on his shoulder, he turned slightly to see that Lady Veora had found them.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re already taken my Lord?” Veora feigned airheaded surprise well.

“As it is, I’m afraid I’ve already been caught.” Or trapped was more like it. He didn’t know what he’d done to annoy her but Lady Veora had succeeded in forcing him to accept his courtly duties.

“Apologies, Lady Veora,” Vienna said. “You may be the superior archer, but this time I was faster on the draw!”

“I concede my defeat.” Lady Veora gave a small curtsy and hurried off, triumphant. He doubted that she was seriously pursuing any target today. Perhaps accidentally ending up without one would give a certain Baroness opportunity to swoop in and save her from embarrassment. The thought made him smile a little

“Wine?” Cromwell saw little else to do but accept his fate as he held out his arm for Lady Vienna to take.

“If you think it will help your feet move more smoothly,” she teased, winding her hand around his elbow.

___________________________________

The King had seemed to become fed up with having his face covered, and had lifted his mask to the side as he led the Queen out onto the dance floor. Perhaps if Cromwell watched from this dark corner Lady Vienna would forget that she had secured him for tonight. He gulped down his wine, feeling absurdly hunted. She had sought him out practically all day. There was something to admire about her tenacity but there was something exceedingly annoying about searching through the crowd and thinking you had been found by one person only to find out it is actually their cousin.

He thought for sure Lord Emerson would have sought him out today, but he hadn’t seen him at all.

“There you are,” Vienna’s voice said brightly from Cromwell’s left. “I’m afraid we’ve missed the first dance, but I’m sure you had something important to attend to,” she allowed. “But I trust Her Majesty will still feel we have followed the rules she set forth, so long as we dance the next.”

“Often it is so that I am busy. Allow me to make it up to you Lady Vienna.” He set his goblet down and twirled her around out towards the dance floor, melding them seamlessly in with the others. Resigned that he would be dancing after all, and determined not to make a poor show of it, lest he embarrass his station.

Vienna laughed in delight at the sudden show of confidence.

“I think you were quite exaggerating your failures on the dance floor, Lord Cromwell,” she said with a smile. “What else you consider yourself to be ‘terrible’ at, I wonder?”

“I’ve been advised being humble is a virtue.” Cromwell deadpanned, deciding to add on a whim, “Besides, I prefer keeping a certain reputation. So as not to mistakenly give any ladies hope.”

“I think you would have to emerge from your rooms more often if any hope was to be fostered in the first place,” she told him with an amiable smile. “You seem to be cultivating the lifestyle of a cave troll! You are lucky that I am not put off by such things,” she told him, “I fear too much avoidance of court life might give the impression you do not enjoy Beleth,” she advised. “Even our most dour of nobles have fun on occasion,” she said with a wink and a look over her shoulder, where Lady Roysa was playing a hand of cards with some other older women.

That was interesting. He hadn’t known that. He would have to look into Lady Roysa more deeply. Or perhaps Lady Vienna’s reveal had been innocent minded. He doubted it.

He huffed a soft laugh, “I do not avoid court Lady Vienna, much of my work is done in it. No doubt you’ve heard your uncle and I recently came to an understanding.” ‘And no doubt that’s why you’re here.’ Was left unsaid. “My duties are vast, and of my most paramount concern.”

Vienna looked confused for a moment, but understanding dawned after a moment.

“Oh, with the grain trading,” she said. “Yes, I’m glad that worked out- Fremont is the largest agricultural supplier for the kingdom,” she said with a note of obvious pride. “It might have been difficult to find enough other sellers if Uncle had decided to be stubborn about it. And I know you are a very busy man,” she conceded with a lightly teasing tone. “But I just think you ought to consider that your duties might be easier to accomplish if people found you… More approachable,” she suggested. “My uncle, for instance, is far less likely to drag his heels on business dealings when he thinks of the other man as someone he might have a drink with instead of…”

She trailed off. “Well, an antisocial cave troll!,” she laughed. “I would hate for your cultivated surly reputation to impede your success.”

“No not the grain.” She was right just as much as she was wrong. He did not have a relationship cultivated over time with any of the nobles at Beleth, like he did in Theren. He was going to have to work for it from the ground up, but not in the way she was suggesting. Being friendly and open surely made dealings easier, but not when you required a healthy amount of fear in your abilities. He would let others be smiling fools for him.

“Lumber, actually.” The dance ended, he led her to the edge of the crowd, intending to leave her now that his obligation had been finally fulfilled.

“Then you have been busy,” she said, somewhat impressed. “My uncle tends to be protective of our forests. No wonder my cousin has spent so much time writing to him this week, I was almost worried he’d suffer hand cramps!”

That gave him pause, setting off alarms in his head. He felt he knew which cousin she meant. And how did he know anything about it? Damn her he couldn’t walk away now.

“Your cousin?” Cromwell stepped closer back in, not letting go of her hand.

“My proper cousin. Lord Chester,” she clarified. “Emerson’s involvement in Fremont’s affairs is… Minimal, for obvious reasons.”

“I hadn’t meant Lord Emerson.” He was quick to clarify. “Though he seems to be on your mind.” So Lord Emerson did know, as had she.

“I do tend to worry over him,” she admitted with a sigh, looking over to a group of people playing some sort of game with small flat coin-like pieces. Emerson was among the crowd watching, occasionally offering a critique of someone’s move but mostly enjoying his wine- despite the difficulty of getting into his mouth without removing his mask- and talking to the other onlookers.

“Though he has yet to cause any significant disturbance or embarrassment tonight- Perhaps he really is trying to behave better this time. I don’t know how much of a difference it can really make at this point, though.” She sounded a touch sad, but gracefully resigned.

For some reason, his mood prickled, but he was careful not to show it. “Surely no more embarrassment or scandal than your typical young nobleman?” He inquired.

“I suppose you met him on your journey from Theren,” Vienna recalled. “He can be quite charming at times, I’ll admit. But he has a bad habit of letting his vices get the better of him,” she admitted wistfully. “He wouldn’t even be here if the King didn’t have such a soft spot for him. And now that His Majesty is married and starting his own family- Well. I worry Emerson may finally found he’s run out of second and third chances. King Averett could waste time trying to rehabilitate a bastard alcoholic when he was only a prince, but I imagine even he does not have infinite patience.”

And there it was, the sneering arrogance Lady Vienna shared with everyone here. He had been waiting for it, he realized. Waiting for her to show her true colors. Despite her pestering Cromwell had more in common with her cousin than he did with her, and he knew that she knew that.

“Let me assuage your fears Lady Vienna, as I so happen to know that Lord Emerson is now considered a friend to the Queen as well. I think he has secured himself at court just fine.” He said offhandedly, inclining his head slightly before excusing himself.

“I’m happy to hear it,” Vienna said, and she did sound somewhat relieved. “Though do I hope Her Majesty plans to expand her social circle a bit further. A pleasure, Lord Cromwell,” she said with a slight curtsey, determined that she would at least give a polite farewell even if he couldn’t be bothered.

After he’d left, she looked across the room to meet her cousin’s eyes. She couldn’t quite tell, but she thought Emerson looked a bit annoyed under his mask. She smiled slightly at him, and he turned his attention back to the game he’d been watching.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Avarett

Location: Redhill - The Royal Chambers | Interacting with: King Avarett

Meera’s heart thumped loudly, absurdly nervous and excited as her ladies fussed about her appearance. They were putting finishing touches on her in her private solar. Speaking in unnecessary hushed tones. The famed purple dress she brought with her from Theren left little to be imagined, and though the exposure left her chilly they’d taken great care to set the fire in the bedroom and strew petals on the bed.

“Stop worrying your lip and drink the rest of that wine.” Nyme instructed, pushing her goblet to her lips.

“I think there’s little else to do. You’re… perfect.” Lady Veora stepped back, a slight flush to her cheeks too. Sharing in the nervous feeling of the room.

“You look so dazzling Meera there’s no man in Beleth or Theren who would tell you no.” Mercy sighed, dreamy look in her eyes. “Not when you look like this.” She clasped her hands together, looking like she might cry.

“Oh Mercy, come now.” Meera chuckled, bringing her into a side hug. “Wish me luck alright? Your Queen goes to do her duty.” She said in a mock serious tone.

“He’s coming up he’s coming shhhh.” Lady Nyme hushed them, rushing to the wall to listen.

Avery rolled his shoulders as he ascended the stairs- He had to admit, Emerson had been right that he’d been neglecting himself. But there just always seemed to be something to do, these days. At least it all seemed to be going well. They were on their final drafts of the grain trading agreement with Theren, just waiting to be sent back to Queen Agora to alert her of recent revisions. A merchant in the city had been busted for dealing with pirates, so there had been a lot of black market goods to sort out. He’d finally wheedled Grace’s fighting tutor into agreeing to train Meera as well, despite the man’s continued grumbling about how he was meant to be enjoying his old age. And then, there was Meera herself.

He had to admit, he had gotten used to having her around much more easily than he’d thought. It was nice, to have her sitting at his side while his ministers clamored at them both about the kingdom’s affairs. It was nice to enjoy a meal with her and listen to what she thought of the food or the weather or if the assistant to the minister of the exchequer had known about that rather unfortunate stain on his pants. It was nice to visit her in her solar in the evening- for some invented reason that he didn’t examine too closely- and find her sitting with the cat Grace had given her curled at her feet, talking and laughing with her ladies and wearing an easy smile that he thought maybe he’d seen directed at himself a few times.

Even this afternoon’s festivities with the full court had been remarkably bearable- Avery hadn’t realized how exhausting it had been to constantly pay attention to how much favor he paid attention to one lady or the other until he didn’t have to anymore. He could simply dance with his wife, so he had. Quite a few more times than was ‘the minimum requirement’, much to Emerson’s delight. The redhead had been watching with keen eyes, and had been positively beaming when Avery had lifted his mask to kiss Meera closelipped but on the mouth when she’d arrived in the dining hall.

He was really a most annoying friend, Avery mused as he hung up his jacket in his changing room. Strong hands, though. Even if he had spent half of the massage complaining that he still thought Cromwell shouldn’t be trusted. Avery, however, was not in the habit of discrediting his wife’s most trusted advisor simply because he gave Emerson ‘a funny sort of feeling’.

Avery had begged off joining the hunt tonight, though he thought if he listened closely he could hear some of the other nobles gathering in the courtyards on the other side of the castle. Traditionally speaking, you weren’t supposed to catch anything on the first night as it was, so it wasn’t all that exciting unless you were into the social aspect, or were drunk. And besides, he’d socialized enough during the festivities. Meera had done an excellent job of respecting the existing traditions around the holiday but presenting them in a way that neither Grace nor Roysa would have. The masks had certainly been more fun than the usual deer antler or pheasant feathered headbands the gentlemen usually wore.

“I’m back,” he called as he went from his changing room and into their bedroom, mostly out of politeness sake. Honestly, she might still be in her solar with her ladies for another few hours- She’d had a very conspiratorial look about her this evening, he’d noted, likely because Baroness Elleni was still at court and had asked only Lady Veora to dance after dinner had finished, and declined the few invitations she had received herself.

“I think that went over quite well,” Avery said, putting his mask down on a side table next to some food and drink the servants had put out for them if they’d come back late. “Would you like any more wine,” he asked to the room at large, pouring himself a goblet. Avery had had a bit more at dinner than he usually did, but the effects had worn off in the hour or so since he’d left the dining hall and it was a holiday, so. He wondered if Meera would be amiable to learning a Belethan card game that was considerably funnier when tipsy.

“Who in the world are you speaking to?” Meera giggled at Avery’s antics as she entered the room, empty goblet in hand. She did in fact, want more wine, and held it out as she studied his reaction.

“You, of course,” Avery replied as he took the cup from her without looking and poured more wine. “Figured you were at least within hearing… Distance,” Avery finished. He’d turned halfway through the sentence and found a very unexpected sight, and he hoped his surprise wasn’t too noticeable. At least he hadn’t spilled the cup.

She smiled wide, amused, and pleased.

“And if you weren’t, then there would be no one to make fun of me for it, so,” he continued with a slight smile. Most of the servants had the night off for the holiday, he supposed, so if he was making himself look stupid it was only in front of Meera. “You’ve changed your outfit,” he noted and then regretted it. Why had he said that? Like she had somehow failed to notice? Goddess, that was a lot of skin.

“I did…” She took a drink, circling around to his other side, “There’s just something about this dress that I like.” She traced her finger around the hem at her waste, “And it’s warm enough in here to wear it even now.” She finished simply, leaning to the side on the table.

“It’s… Very nice,” he said after a moment and a hurried swallow of wine. How was her chest even staying covered by the fabric? “Though the weather does usually start to change in earnest after the festival. Which, uh, seems to be going well. You should be proud.”

“Oh I’ve already started to feel the chill I assure you.” She laughed lightly and ran her hand over his shoulder, deciding to lean into him and rub and his shoulder. “But I’m sure my King will keep me warm anyhow.” She leaned her head on him too, “I’m glad it’s going so well, I want our people to know what kind of Queen to expect.”

She set her goblet down, “You know I’m not tired enough to go to sleep quite yet, do you want to play?” She turned her head, spotting the cards, or perhaps they could read, that’d put them close together, but perhaps cards would be more fun.

“Uh- Sure,” Avery agreed. “What did you have in mind?”

“Teach me a Belethan game.” Let him go and snatched up the cards in question, “I bet you I can beat you at it. I'm very good at card games.” She teased, spreading and flaring the deck like a hand fan to raise to her face and wink at him over.

“Then I won’t go easy on you,” Avery returned with a smile. “Now, the object of the game…”

True to her promise, Meera did win the first round, though she suspected that was because Avery let her win. It was the second round that became competitive, and narrowly he did beat her, though it mattered little when both of them were in fits of giggles.

“Alright alright!” Meera tossed the cards into the middle, conceding.

“Alright you’ve won, so that means you’re supposed to get a prize right?” She rose from her seat, boldly settling herself on his lap. “Would you be satisfied with a kiss?” She asked, innocent as could be.

Avery stiffened a bit at the new seating arrangement, not quite sure where to put his hands. “That would be… Fine,” he agreed.

“Fine?” She teased softly, leaning into the side of his jaw and running her lips along its edge, her hands snaking their way up his chest, to cup his neck. “Well maybe if that’s just fine then I shouldn’t give you a kiss after all.” She turned her head away, smiling slyly, right before her lips met his mouth.

“It’s… More-” Avery was cut off, though he found he didn’t mind too much. Without much conscious input his hands settled tentatively on her waist. “Certainly more than fine,” Avery amended, speaking against her cheek.

Her smile widened as she felt his hands settle on the bare skin of her waist, “That’s more like it.” And rewarded him finally by capturing his mouth in hers, her fingers trailed through his hair, finding the pleasant warmth wasn’t leaving either of them, but building.

Avery let out a soft hum and let Meera do as she pleased, one of his hands moving up her back as the kiss deepened and the thumb of the other tracing small circles on the small of her back.

She quite liked that and let him know as much by closing whatever little space there was between their bodies and giving him a pleased whine, deepening their kiss. He was surprisingly good with tongue, and she wondered at not doing this sooner.

Avery leaned back and tried to adjust his hips to be further from hers, though there didn’t seem to be much space for it. They continued like that for a few minutes more- or perhaps many minutes more, Avery wasn’t paying much attention- until Avery realized his wandering hand had been wandering along her side, and getting closer to the front of her dress. He broke the rhythm of their kiss, and paused with a small sigh, as though deciding something.

This had been… Very nice. But he could wait.

“I think- That’s enough,” he said after a moment.

Meera pulled back in confusion and surprise. Never in all her years had she heard a halt of intimacy so plaintively direct. And with her brain still dizzy from what she thought had been escalating passion she couldn’t think of what to do with that.

Dumb compliance ended up being what she went with, obediently slipping off of his lap and feeling the sting of… rejection? Was this rejection? Was he just tired? No this was definitely rejection.

Avery stood and crossed the room, glad she had taken that well. He unbuttoned his vest- he had been pretty sure more buttons had been done when he’d come into the room- and ducked behind his privacy screen to pull on his sleepwear.

Meera took the opportunity to quietly rush into her own changing room, hurriedly pulling out her hair ornaments and convincing herself that the water threatening to spring from her eyes was from the sting of having her hair pulled and nothing else. She took deep breaths and pressed her cold hands to her cheeks to calm the angry flush of embarrassment on them.

“I was thinking we could go riding sometime this weekend, if you have time,” he conceded as he got into bed. She’d been a whirlwind of activity with coordinating activities for the festival, and he really wasn’t sure if she was in a position to step back at this point, or even willing to. “I promise I’ll keep my distance,” he joked.

She scoffed softly to herself as she pulled on her nightgown, they could have been going for a ride right now and there wouldn’t have been any need to keep a distance at all. But distance seemed to be something the King needed. And she was too scared to push.

“Y-yes.” Was her ungraceful and awkward reply as she came out of hiding and climbed into bed, turning her back to him as she got comfortable underneath the covers.

She felt she should elaborate or say something else but found she couldn’t when she finally settled, and instead stared at the wall. Feeling a bit lost.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera

Location: Redhill - Lady Nyme's Room | Interacting with: Ladies Nyme, Mercy, and Veora

The second morning of the goddess of the hunt was considerably more difficult than the first, at least for Meera. Everyone else would watch the men compete in archery today and later go for a real hunt in the woods. Well, those sober enough would.

Breakfast was quiet and pleasant, she spent it by herself. Grateful, in a way, that she did not have to fake a smile and find some small talk to struggle through with her husband.

Later in Lady Nyme’s room where they picked out feathers and ribbons to wear in their hair, the catalyst for the day’s drama set off.

“It’s never going to stay, just pick another one it doesn’t matter, it’s not like the Duke was terribly interested in my hair.” She adjusted her bosom in what was perhaps the tightest dress they’d ever seen her wear.

“He’s not a Duke yet.” Meera reminded her.

“Yes but he stands to inherit a Duchy so it’s the same thing.” Nyme countered. “Now, stop trying to make a nest in my hair and tell us how it went!”

“Veora isn’t even here yet.” Mercy swatted at her shoulder.

“As if we aren’t going to tell her thesuspenseiskillingme pleaseputmeoutofmymisery.” Nyme whined, stomping her foot a little and making the spotted feather they were trying to secure to the braided bun on her head fall out for perhaps the fifth time.

Mercy shot Meera an apprehensive look, feeling dread and guilt the more silent their Queen was. Praying to whomever was listening that things went well despite all the odds stacked against her. Mercy couldn’t be responsible for the failure of a royal marriage, the fall of an entire lineage, and the misery of her dearest friend and Queen. She just couldn’t.

“...Well.” Was all Meera could seem to articulate, opening and closing her mouth in an attempt to either lie or tell the truth or say something in between the two.

Nyme stilled, her smile falling as she looked between Mercy and Meera, “What happened?” She asked Mercy.

Meera looked at the blonde in confusion, unsurprised that Nyme caught her fumbling as suspicious but confounded as to how and why Mercy also looked apprehensive. As though she’d been caught.

“I was going to say something. I swear it! But…” Mercy looked between them, terrified that she had breached the trust built between them all, had betrayed her Queen in a treasonous way.

“Mercy, calm yourself it’s alright.” Meera reached out but the girl pulled away, beginning to sob. Nyme and Meera looked at one another in bemusement, both trying to reach out with steadying hands to calm the girl.

“I didn’t want to ruin your special night and I couldn’t be sure of what I saw anyway but still it was unmistakable, Lord Emerson was on top of him and everything!” Mercy’s voice was muffled by her hand as she began to break down.

“WHAT?!” Nyme cut off her own screech with her hand.

Meera paled, ice water seeping from the top of her head down her spine, the implication clear. Her shoulders slackened, as if defeated. Her arms encircled the blonde girl as they both sank to the floor, alarming Nyme.

“What?! Mercy it’s alright calm down oh spirits do I need to fetch the- the physician or? Should. Mercy calm down you have to calm down sweet girl we can’t understand you.” Nyme panicked, unsure of what to do, her Queen looked so pale and distant all of the sudden and Mercy’s words were unintelligible behind her sobbing which was sure to ruin the Queen’s dress and spirits help her where was Veora when you needed her!?

All three of them ended up on the floor by the time Lady Veora came to the rescue, shocked by what she saw but springing to action nonetheless.

“Nyme?” She demanded as she kneeled behind Mercy, one hand rubbing at Mercy’s back and the other cupping the Queen’s pale cheek, checking her temperature with the back of it.

“I can’t get her to explain properly but last night didn’t go well and something about… LordEmersonbeingontopoftheKingmaybe.” Nyme explained, frazzled and throwing her hands up in defeat at her sister’s arrival.

Lady Veora pulled back Mercy sharply, forcing her to face her, “Mercy, listen to me. Breathe in.” Veora breathed in herself, getting Mercy to follow, “And breathe out.”

Five more steady breathes later Veora dabbed away the tears on Mercy’s cheeks, “Now tell us what you know. It’s important that we sort through what we know and what we don’t. This is how best we can judge what to do next.”

Mercy nodded and sniffed, starting from the beginning, “I went down- remember, to find a comb? I used the servant’s staircase so I wouldn’t run into anyone, and on my way down I noticed the door to the King’s solar was open but didn’t think anything of it until I came back out and heard…” Mercy flushed a deep red.

Meera’s eyes shut tight against the pain that shot through her, she cupped her mouth and turned away, beginning to cry.

“Oh Meera I’m so-” Mercy tried to turn her way but Veora kept her chin in a vice grip.

“Continue.” She urged.

“It sounded like a pained moan, so I peaked in and saw the silhouette of someone on top of someone else, two men. I heard the King say Lord Emerson’s name and realized who they were, so I left in a hurry.” Mercy finished.

“Their silhouette? You only saw their silhouette?” Veora pressed.

“They were behind a screen.” Mercy nodded. “I debated saying something but… Everyone was so excited and happy. And I thought if last night went well then we could do something about the competition later.”

“I don’t know of anyone else that would be in the King’s solar with Lord Emerson, not unless he was so bold as to take a liaison there.” Nyme said slowly, thinking. “Then again, those rumors… I didn’t take them seriously at first, but maybe they’re true. He could be the King’s special friend after all.”

“I was really starting to like him.” Meera choked out, crying freely now.

“If anyone were bold enough to do that it would be Lord Emerson though wouldn’t it?” Veora got up, bringing Mercy with her and sitting her down on a proper chair.

“Go get Lord Blackbird.” Veora sent Nyme away on her errand and turned to Mercy, “Clean and set your face first, and then bring the basin over to the bed so we may make the Queen presentable.” She instructed. The paint on Mercy’s lashes was well ruined by now and the Queen’s own lined eyes were likely to be a mess before she calmed down as well. They couldn’t let others see her like this.

With those two taken care of and busy, Veora could lift her Queen from the ground and get her settled in Nyme’s bed, hugging her for comfort as the Queen tried to settle herself down. “Don’t think the worst, I beg of you my Queen do not unnecessarily upset yourself. This could all be nothing. Your King is not cold towards you. You won’t end up…” Veora trailed off, knowing her Queen’s greatest fears.

“Like the Queen of Dorelith? Or the previous one of Ruhar, or Ruthenia? Or how about King Garrot’s many Queens.” Meera shook her head, “We used to think them so brave, but we’ve seen first hand how unloved Queens live.” Meera smacked the bed, feeling defeated.

“They were alone and miserable, even if their people loved them. A Queen can not take comfort in the arms of anyone else but their husbands just openly-” Meera stopped herself, her head was starting to pound, she could hear the wringing of a cloth to her right, Mercy had come to clean her face. It was time to stop crying and reorient herself.

She took a deep breath, “I won’t end up like them, I have to find another way…” She closed her eyes and allowed Mercy to work.

“But you do not know for sure if-” Veora began.

“I do… It makes sense. It all makes sense now. I always thought he was being sweet but his lack of passion for me makes better sense now. Last night I practically threw myself at him but never got farther than kissing. He all but rejected me.” She said as matter of factly as she could.

They became silent after that.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & Lord Cromwell

Location: Redhill - Lady Nyme's Room | Interacting with: The Queen's Ladies & Lord Emerson

Emerson had barely closed the door to his sitting room when his manservant pounced on him.

“Sir- The Lord Chancellor has come by,” Louis told him hurriedly and with obvious concern.

“Cromwell? I’m surprised he even knows where I live, much less that he would deign to visit himself,” Emerson said with a scoff. “I’ll seek him out later, right now I want a bath-”

“He came by because Her Majesty has requested an audience with you, sir. An immediate audience,” Louis clarified. “He did not seem pleased that the earlier summons had gone unanswered, nor that you were not here when he stopped by, nor that I could not give him hint as to where you might be-”

“Don’t feel badly, Louis, it’s hardly your fault-”

“No, sir, I daresay it is yours,” Louis hissed. There was a sharp knocking at the door.

“No, because he’s never pleased about anything-”

Louis cleared his throat loudly and opened the door to admit their guest.

Cromwell stalked in, brushing past Louis, “Where- nevermind, get ready for the day, make yourself presentable. There is an urgent matter…” He turned back around and paused next to Louis, “Be sure he hurries, there is already little time before the Queen must attend the Archery Competition.”

And he was gone as quickly as he’d come.

“See? Like he’s been sitting on a goat’s horns and has forgotten how to get off,” Emerson told Louis ruefully, but he complied with Cromwell’s haste and marched into his bedroom. It was small and dark, dominated by his wardrobe and with having hangings to block the light from the only window in his suite. Certainly not grand, but Emerson could have had other rooms if he wanted. He just didn’t want.

He washed his face quickly in the basin as Louis pulled out clothes for his perusal.

“Why am I always supremely hungover when the Queen wishes to see me?,” he pouted, picking out a rather tight pair of black pants and a green tunic with black embroidery that would bring out his eyes but still hide his bruises.

“Perhaps if you drank less often, sir-”

“It was a rhetorical question, Louis,” Emerson said with a sigh. In fact, he had been trying to lighten the atmosphere- they both knew that an urgent matter with the Queen, important enough for Cromwell to be knocking down his door, could hardly be good news- but Louis was not in a joking mood it seemed.

Cromwell paced outside of the door, still taking in the information he’d been told and struggling with it. He doubted strongly that this all could be true, yet Lady Mercidea of Argos was no liar. She had seen and heard something, and the most likely answer was likely also the simplest. He couldn’t even think of what else Lord Emerson might be doing on top of the King, making noises like that. Giving him a massage? Unlikely. There was little reason Lord Emerson would be performing such a task for the King when he had a wife and servants and everyone else in the castle at his beck and call. Besides, it was obvious even now that Emerson was not the sort to stay faithful to one person’s bed. He went wherever pleased him, and pleasing a King was… dedicated work. Then again it could just be that they slept together on occasion for no other reason than fun.

Something he could be doing with his new beautiful wife. Why wasn’t the King interested in her? Or rather, how was it that he seemed interested in her to any observer but was dragging his feet in terms of the actual deed? It made absolutely no sense. The King was capable of ruses, more so than one would think...

He paused and looked at the door, Lord Emerson was taking so long, he considered knocking on it once more, but resumed his pacing. He did tell the man he needed to be presentable to the Queen.

Curse the King for being the one variable in this equation he couldn’t control or help along. He could circle the situation all he liked but ultimately he could not force the King to get the Queen pregnant any more than he could force him to actually like her, infuriatingly enough.

“All right, I await your direction,” Emerson instructed Cromwell as he left his suite, having deemed himself as presentable as he was likely to become. His hair was loose and he began to fix it into a short braid as they walked, the tie dangling from his mouth.

Cromwell led a brisk and determined pace, quiet in his dark thoughts as they sped down the halls, avoiding people who had come out and begun to make their way outside for the festivities. People jumped out of their way for virtue of their brisk pace, everything about Cromwell’s gate told them he was on the crown’s business. But if that was so, then what was Emerson doing following him?

Instead of the royal chambers he led them to Lady Nyme’s door, where the Queen still was. By now they’d had more than enough time to fix her face and made sure she did not appear as though she had been crying. Hopefully anyway.

He paused before opening the door, looking back at Lord Emerson he sighed and lifted his mask, leaning into his ear. One could claim his expression was even worried, “The Queen is not a cruel person, be honest with her and you’ll find her very reasonable, and open to negotiation… if need be.”

Well, that was ominous. And a little weird, to have the taller man leaning into his space like that.

Cromwell quickly secured his mask back on, not giving Emerson the time to respond before swinging the door open, motioning him inside. The image of the man’s half open shirt and the kissing marks lining his chest from earlier came to mind. Cromwell did not like the thought of what he would have to do should all of this turn out to be true, or, spirits forbid, if this meeting did not go well. The free spirited Lord Emerson didn’t deserve to be the object of his schemes just because he was everything desirable and amiable. He ran through scenarios in his head as he shut the door behind Lord Emerson. Resigned to standing guard outside.

“Your Majesty,” Emerson greeted with a bow. “Lady Nyme, Lady Mercy, Lady Veora,” he nodded to them each in turn. They were all sitting so… Formally. It was very unlike any of the other times they’d shared company- Goddess, he hoped no one had died. No- If Vee had died, Grace and Roysa would be here. And they wouldn’t bother telling him if someone else had.

“Lord Emerson, thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I hope I didn’t disturb your sleep.” Meera greeted and turned to Lady Veora, giving a small nod.

In unison all three of her ladies rose and gave Lord Emerson a curtsy, filing out, leaving them alone.

“Please, come speak with me.” She motioned for him to join her.

Emerson did not miss the lack of smiles from the usually warm ladies- Mercy had almost seemed… Worried about him. He was starting to get the impression that the problem he had been summoned to address might be him- At the very least, Meera was doing a fabulous impression of the way Roysa used to look at him. He was almost positive he remembered all of last night… But he supposed perhaps he was wrong and had done something to terribly embarrass the monarchy, and now was going to have to face the consequences.

He sat as instructed, and smiled at Meera.

“Is something wrong, Your Majesty,” he asked her, deciding to end his suspense if he was able.

Meera opened her mouth, and then closed it; having been about to deny it, but thought better of it, as it wouldn’t have been true. Her schooled expression started to break a little the more she looked at Lord Emerson. He had become such a fast friend to her and her ladies, had fit right in as though he had come from Theren himself as part of her retinue. He had such a sparkling personality. Perhaps that was why Avery loved him.

“I don’t want you to worry Lord Emerson...” She looked at her hands, they were clammy, she was already struggling to speak.

She reached out and took one of his to hold, “When I was young, I was sent to various courts on tour, to make acquaintances with other Kingdoms. To form important relationships I would need later, and to see how other monarchs ruled. And often… especially in Dorelith. I could see that being a Queen was miserable work. My mother was fortunate to be so loved, as it turns out, because there are others who have to fight in their own home for scraps of affection or respect. The Queen of Dorelith directs all of her rage at the King’s mistresses, whomever they so happen to be. This in turn makes the King miserable, and he makes her miserable, and the cycle continues.” She looked up at him.

This sounded reasonable, though Emerson couldn’t imagine what it had to do with him.

“I don’t want to live like that Lord Emerson.” She could hear herself sounding pitiful, but felt, at the same time, that she could be honest with him, and he would hear her out.

“One of my ladies saw the two of you, so I know now. And I think his love for you might be why he will barely touch me. It makes sense… but still, I was wondering if there might not be a way we could have peace between us. For everyone’s sake… I still want to be your friend…”

Emerson looked confused. His love for Emerson…? Was she talking about Vee? Saw them… What? If Emerson had been any more flirtatious with the King recently, it didn’t compare to how flirtatious he might have been being with other members of the court- And besides, the King certainly never responded to such overtures other than to give heavy, resigned sighs.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve utterly lost me,” he admitted. “You think… The king is in love with me? Because I can assure you that is not the case,” he scoffed.

She closed her eyes for a beat before responding, “My Lady saw the two of you last night Lord Emerson, she had gone down to fetch a comb and apparently the two of you had left the door open to the solar.” She cleared her throat, “Please don’t lie to me Lord Emerson it’ll make everything so much more difficult. I have a contractual duty to not one but two kingdoms. I needn’t get in the way of the King’s pleasure after that duty is fulfilled.”

What was she talking about-

“Oh, shit,” Emerson swore loudly, his face going a bit red. Yes, he could see how that might have been… Misinterpreted.

“Your Majesty,” Emerson said with a sigh. “I was giving the King a shoulder massage.”

Well, that sounded like a weak excuse even as the words left his mouth.

Meera’s brow furrowed at his continual denial, just when she thought they were getting somewhere.

“Lord Emerson I can promise you I have no intention of… any sort of retribution or whatever it is you’re afraid of but you can not seriously think you can pull such a wool over my eyes. I am not some little naive girl, I am your Queen.” She reminded him levelly.

“And you are hardly the first to suggest that His Majesty keeps me around as a convenient piece of ass, and I doubt you’ll be the last,” Emerson spat as he stood, with a bit more frustration and volume than he had intended, and he reminded himself that it was quite likely the ladies and Lord Cromwell had their ears pressed to the door. He let out a long sigh and tried to collect himself. This was hardly Meera’s fault.

She straightened, taken aback. “Well you do apparently massage my husband as it were. So I can’t imagine why anyone would think that my Lord.” She countered, slowly and icily.

“Your Majesty, I am going to assume the King has not completely removed his shirt in front of you,” he said. “That when he changes, he is either behind something or facing towards you. So you have never seen his bare back. Am I correct?”

“... I am aware Belethens are more modest than I’m used to.” It was Meera’s turn to look confused.

“I only make that conjecture because if you knew what his back looked like, you might find it more believable that he needs actual massaging- Everything on the upper left is a fucking ruin,” Emerson said, not mincing words and gesturing to the general area in question. “He might remove his shirt in training, if it is a particularly hot day- But all the men know, to warn him if anyone approaches the yard. Princess Grace and Lady Roysa, they do not know the extent of the scarring. And the people who know how much it still regularly pains him- Myself, Maxwell, and one of His Majesty’s physicians.” Three people. Four now.

Her eyes widened, she stood up slowly, realizing her horrible mistake as Emerson continued.

“He doesn’t talk about it, because it’s my fault,” Emerson said angrily, though it was clear the anger was directed at himself, even turned away from the queen. “So, yes. I give your husband regular massages. It is, all things considered, the least I can do. And that was really all I was doing last night,” he told her when he turned back in her direction.

Feeling like an utter ass, Meera blinked back the tears threatening to ruin her carefully primped face for the second time that morning. “At least, Lord Emerson, I think we can call this entire situation, well and truly my fault… I’m so sorry. I just… I didn’t know what else to think.”

A knock on the door told her they were out of time, that they, or she at least, needed to be out on the grounds by now.

“Don’t be silly, I think it’s obviously His Majesty’s fault,” Emerson said, with a tone that implied he would very much like to hit the king over the head with something suitably heavy. “I told him to talk to you about his… Intimacy issues, and he told me he was going to but apparently that was a lie,” he said with annoyance. “I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you,” except ‘nothing’ if Meera was to be believed, “But he definitely likes women and he definitely likes you.”

Emerson needed to get drunk as soon as possible. Actually, he needed something more than that- He could probably slip his guard if he needed to go into town, right? They’d find him eventually. They always did.

Another insistent knock interrupted whatever Meera was going to say. “I have to go, I’m probably late.” She looked at him apologetically as she made to go, “I… again I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t frighten you shitless when you came in.” Meera dropped her courtesies momentarily and snorted softly, lifting the mood a little. “Please try to have fun for the rest of the day Lord Emerson.”

“You as well, Your Majesty,” he told her. “I hope you are able to… Solve your problem.”

She opened the door and slipped out, nodding to Lord Cromwell as she passed, her ladies flanking her as they left to the Archery competition.

Cromwell watched them leave before he slipped into the room himself, taking off his mask, suddenly very annoyed with it and the infernal capelet he was wearing. The feathers tickled unpleasantly the longer he wore the thing. He threw it to the side as well.

“... Did things work out?” He asked carefully, none of the earlier harshness in his voice.

Emerson’s smile fell once he no longer needed to maintain it for the Queen, and all the emotions he’d been trying to keep at bay came crashing over him.

“I am not a threat to your Queen,” Emerson snapped. “I doubt you care for little else. Can I be excused now, I’m afraid my plans for the day have been altered and I really would like to get them underway post-haste,” he said dryly.

“I am happy to hear that.” Cromwell confessed, rolling his shoulders and adjusting his jerkin now that he no longer was forced to wear feathers. “About the threat, not your plans. I would hate to ruin them any further… Let me make it up to you?” Cromwell straightened, walking over, his tone lighter than he’d probably ever used with Emerson.
Emerson scoffed. “Don’t strain yourself on my account, Lord Cromwell,” he said bitterly, but then amended, “I am in a mood foul enough to match your usual disposition, any efforts you might deign to make would likely be wasted.” He reminded himself not to waste all the effort he had been putting into drawing Cromwell out of his shell, however satisfying it might be to tell the other man what he really thought of him and storm off.

“Many people do mistake my… lack of expression as a foul mood. I am not as free and expressful as you are, but I’d be remiss to have you think that of me Lord Emerson.” He bowed and took his leave.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Brutus

Location: Theren - Delphi - The Queen's Balcony | Interacting with: Queen Regent Agora

He was led, roughly, into the Queen’s chambers, to his great confusion. Whereby she stared at him as he entered, expression as if she were examining a particularly rotten piece of fruit.

“Kneel.” She sighed, and reached for her drink.

Before he could oblige however he felt sharp jabs at the back of either knee, and he was forced to comply.

“Your Majesty? Have I done something to offend? Why am I treated this way?” He began to demand but settled into pinning incredulity once her eyes flashed towards him.

“Lords get to stand in my presence. Strong, noble and loyal, they earn that privilege. But you…” She rose slowly, stalking closer and closer, till she was close enough for his nose to touch her skirts.

He had to strain his neck to look up at her.

“...Have not been acting the part of a lord have you?” She sighed and stepped away, beginning to circle her prey, taking her time as she spoke.

“Public drunkenness, whoring, brawls, making an ass of yourself and your entire family name. Your poor mother left in tears because she can not stop you and must deal with the shame... There was a time when I would have dearly loved to call you my son in law, I compared you to my own husband. Temperamental to be sure, but passionate, made of the same ilk of Kings.” She stopped in front of her seat and sat down, disappointed.

“And yet at the first sign of complication, you shriveled into a whimpering fool. Content to spend your nights crying into a comfort girl’s breasts for months on end.” Agora turned her head is disgust.

“Your majesty I am bereft of your daughter’s love! I… what am I supposed to do without her.” He held his hands out, trying to explain, he didn’t understand why he was being treated like a stranger when it was not too long ago that she would embrace him and fawn over him, calling him the champion of Theren. Could he really have fallen out of favor so quickly?

“You men always need someone to tell you what to do don’t you.” Agora took a bite of candied fruit. “Stand up.”

He attempted to do as she commanded, but the guards on either side of him prevented it with their spears. He looked to the Queen Regent once more in confusion. Who looked at him with a bored expression on her face before smiling slowly and taking another bite of her fruit.

“I said, stand up.” She all but whispered.

He looked at the guards, it took a moment longer for him to understand what she wanted from him, and she waited patiently to see it.

With a roar he grabbed the butts of the guards spears and spun them around as he rose up, a scuffle ensued. Queen Regent Agora watched, pleased at the show. In the end he overpowered her guards, victorious. This was exactly what he needed. A little push. A reminder of who and what he was.

“Excellent Lord Brutus, now that you are back to us once more we will see if there can not be retribution for us yet. You are not the only one bereft. My sources tell me my daughter is miserable as well. We must beat you back into shape, clean you up, so you may ride into Beleth and see if their so called King can measure up to you.” Queen Regent Agora of House Delphi smiled.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle
Interacting: Emerson and Louis, Emerson and Cara, Emerson and Cromwell
Timing: Evening following the last post in Redhill

“It is a holiday, sir, and you have done nothing but mope in your rooms all day, I will not enable you any further,” Louis said curtly, pulling at Emerson’s bedsheets. “If you want food, you shall have to get it yourself.”

“Then I shall just starve,” Emerson decided, yanking his covers back with annoyance.

“Sir! If you are going to spend the whole day, curled in your bed, in a drug induced stupor-,” Louis started.

“I was hardly in a stupor and I’m certainly not anymore!”

“-Then I shall have no choice but to disclose your actions today to a higher authority,” Louis finished.

“Oh, what is His Majesty going to do about it,” Emerson sulked. “Give me a stern talking to and then run back to his wife and his responsibilities,” he said bitterly. “And that’s assuming he can actually muster the nerve to say anything at all, as he does seem to prefer to avoid such things-”

“Actually, I was thinking I would tell Her Highness,” Louis said casually, and Emerson sat up to glare at him.

“You wouldn’t,” he said reproachfully. Grace was the worst. She would hover over him for weeks if she thought there was cause, and she was near-impossible to be rid of. “She’d make your life just as miserable as mine!”

“And is that a bet you are prepared to make?”

“I should have you sacked,” Emerson told his manservant. It was a familiar argument, though usually more jokingly conducted.

“You could try, sir,” Louis told him evenly. “But I’ll remind you that the Lady Roysa pays my wages, and she has been quite satisfied with my performance.”

“Yes, you are a most excellent bastard wrangler,” Emerson said with annoyance, but he threw his blankets at Louis and put his feet on the floor.

“You will be satisfied so long as I leave my rooms?,” Emerson confirmed with his manservant, and Louis eyes narrowed.

“I want you to have a destination, sir, not just pace the hallway for five minutes and then return to your sulking,” the older man clarified.

“I was planning to go to the nearest kitchen to fetch the sustenance which you have denied me,” Emerson shot back, and Louis nodded.

Apparently that would meet his standards well enough not to tattle to the Princess, though more and more Emerson suspected that had just been a gambit to get Emerson annoyed enough to leave his bed.

“And don’t bother searching the room for the rest of the stash,” Emerson told him. “I finished what little I had,” he said with irritation.

Louis pursed his lips, and Emerson knew he was going to return to an overturned suite regardless.

“And do try to be polite to those with the misfortune to interact with you, sir,” Louis said mildly, always determined to have the last word. “Ever since the Lord Chancellor’s arrival this morning, your social skills have been positively dismal.”

Emerson rolled his eyes and let the door to his suite bang shut behind him. Yes, the Lord Chancellor- He seemed to be an omen of bad fortune, didn’t he? Except he wasn’t. He was just a man- An annoying, uppity man, who ignored all of Emerson’s attempts to befriend him and then had the gall to act almost concerned about him this morning. With that stupid feathered cape framing the angles of his chin and blending into his dark hair and… Something needed to be done about that man or he was going to be a real pain in his ass, Emerson concluded.


---

It really was amazing, what some food and the chance to stretch your legs could do for your mood. Even just entering the kitchen had made him feel better- The warmth of the ovens and the smell of the breads, and the general cheerful attitude of the staff. There was a kitchen just a few floors below him and he stopped by often enough that those who worked there were accustomed to his odd hours. He’d sat and ate and chatted with them about how the second day of festivities had gone- fairly well, it sounded like, and he was a bit annoyed at himself for having missed it- and flirted a bit with one of the pantrymaids, who was married and had told him she’d hit him with her spoon if he kept it up, and he was generally feeling much more like himself.

Especially because he had a mission.

He was stalking down the halls of the upper offices when he caught sight of someone and almost ducked to hide when he realized he knew the maid in question.

“Cara,” he beamed through a mouth full of cheesey bread roll. “You don’t have the night off?”

“Klara worked the dinner feast, so there wasn’t much point,” she told him. “Someone’s got to keep things tidy in this wing, since it is being used so much,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And I just swept this hall, don’t be tracking crumbs about!”

“Cara, my dear girl, every tiny morsel of this blessed roll has landed in my mouth, I assure you,” he said with a laugh, and the maid’s inspection of the path behind him seemed to indicate he was correct.
“Speaking of people who sit in their offices constantly,” he said in a lower voice. “Has the Lord Chancellor retired for the night yet?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Last I saw him he was leaving, but he might have just gone to fetch something. He keeps terrible hours, you know- I could try to track him down for you and let him know you’re here,” she offered, and Emerson shook his head.

“No, no, I was hoping to… Surprise him,” Emerson said, and Cara’s smile twitched.

“I think you’d have more luck with me, mylord,” she said with a flirty wink, and Emerson nearly laughed.

“Yes, well, you’re hardly a challenge are you, dear girl,” he returned conspiratorially and Cara gave him a playful shove.

“Be gone with you then, if you are going to be rude,” she told him, and they continued walking their separate ways.

He approached Cromwell’s office carefully, but it seemed empty. If he was truly gone for the night, Emerson figured the candles would be snuffed and the door shut up tight, so he probably didn’t have too much time to investigate. He poked his head back into the hall to make sure no one was approaching before looking at the massive desk and the things piled on it and wondering where the hell to even start. At least the empty halls would alert him to any footsteps headed his way, and then he could… Claim he was here to apologize for his earlier rudeness? He’d come up with something, he was sure.

---

Cromwell's pup was developing fast, and he supposed soon he should actually come up with a name, something other than ‘pup’, as he walked back from putting said pup to bed. He had to be strict with the schedule he put the young thing on now that he could move around. Cromwell himself took to odd hours so he’d have to make sure he was paying attention to his young charge’s needs. At least till the pup was old enough to-

The door to his office was open.

He glowered, rolling his shoulders and steeling himself for a confrontation. By now even servants knew not to go into his office if he wasn’t there, usually he had the thing locked, but tonight he was only gone a short while and saw little reason to lock it when everyone else in the castle was busy partying. He mentally berated himself as his hand pushed the door wider, slowly.

Wouldn’t you know it, color him surprised. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight of Lord Emerson sitting on top of his desk, innocently enough, but somehow looking like a treat that had been delivered just for him. He imagined he had that effect often, whenever he sat on whomsoever’s bed he was blessing next.

Cromwell indulged in letting his eye sweep over the redhead, tilting his head and considering for a moment, before finally speaking. “People aren’t permitted in my office unless I am here, and I loathe when people touch my desk... Lord Emerson.” He said stonily, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

Cromwell seemed almost… Angry? Which wasn’t exactly what Emerson had been expecting, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting, so. He also wasn’t entirely sure why he’d decided to sit on Cromwell’s desk instead of the chair opposite- It wasn’t like a spur of the moment panic. He’d heard the other man’s confident stride with more than enough time to ensure everything looked exactly as it had when he’d arrived, and had been about to plop himself down in the chair when his body had suddenly altered course. But he was here now, so he might as well make the most of it.

“Apologies, Lord Cromwell, I hadn’t known you were so particular about it,” Emerson said genially, though he made no signal that he would remove himself. “But you are a man with such... Singular dedication to your work,” he mused, his fingers brushing over a stack of neatly organized scrolls and prodding one so that its edge hung a few inches over that of the others. “I thought I might have to interrupt such work if I were to have any hope of getting your attention.”

How laughable, Emerson usually had his attention these days. He’d made a habit of watching him out of the corner of his eye whenever the redhead orbited his world. Cromwell had, in his observations, become acutely aware of Emerson and every little detail about him. Despite his excuses of work and his pretense to be otherwise only mildly interested in the man’s antics… Emerson had scratched and gnawed his way into an occupying space of Cromwell’s mind. Interrupting the disquiet of it.

At first he’d found this particularly irritating, but he soon recognized the old, dusty and long forgotten feeling for what it was. Desire.

“Getting my attention?” He clasped his hands behind his back as he meandered over, looking around the room, looking- for anything out of place, “Or searching for something?”

He stopped in front of Emerson, “Maybe I can help you find it.” he heard his voice lower an octave as he sat down on the chair across from him, spread out as though he were a King sitting on a throne, waiting and watching every move Emerson made like a hawk.

Emerson shifted, a bit uncomfortable under Cromwell’s rather… Intense gaze. Was he suspicious of him?

“Searching for you, yes,” Emerson replied with a laugh. “I felt I ought to apologize for my behavior, earlier,” he said. “It was unfair of me to be so short with you, especially when you seemed to be trying to be… Kind.”

“You were upset, and I was the bearer of bad news. I often am.” Cromwell excused Emerson from his earlier attitude easily.

“I was worried for you, I confess… did you find solace elsewhere afterward? For your plans.” His brow twitched as he spoke, trying for courtesy even under the tense atmosphere of the room.

“My plans went more or less accordingly,” Emerson said airly. “Though I’ll admit I did not find them quite as fulfilling as I’d hoped,” he confessed. He trailed off for a moment and then said with a direct match to Cromwell’s gaze, “But I seem to recall you had offered to… Make it up to me?”

“I did.” Cromwell confirmed, going still, considering his actions in his head, weighing options against each other, and deciding that none of it really mattered next to what he wanted. He had already decided what he wanted when he closed the door behind him earlier, all of this had just been about seeing if that interest was genuinely reciprocated and then convincing himself that he could partake.

Cromwell stood up, pushing Lord Emerson’s ankles apart so he could invade the redhead’s space further. Emerson seemed to be letting him, and Cromwell gave him time to protest, but when none came he grasped the redhead’s chin, gently but firmly.

“That offer still stands.” He promised intently, the other hand lightly touching Emerson’s knee, which widened further at the prompting.

This was… Unexpected, thought Emerson. But he didn’t seem to mind when Cromwell kissed him hotly. In fact, Emerson decided as he scooted closer, he didn’t mind at all.

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle, Lady Roysa's Office
Interacting: Roysa and Emerson
Timing: Evening of the third day of the festival


Roysa was sitting at her desk when there was a quiet knock- Not from the door, but from behind the elaborate tapestry on the other wall. She rapped her knuckles sharply against her desk three times to indicate she was alone, and there was the sound of a key in a lock and the tapestry moved aside.

When Redhill had first been built- or at least, the first layer of it- hallways had been built between the rooms to allow for servants to pass unnoticed, carrying laundry and food and fresh water. Few of them were functional these days- Bricked over from the inside, turned into narrow storage closets, or knocked out on one wall to expand a suite.

When the King had hit young Emerson across the face and thrown him from the dining room, Roysa had thought she’d finally seen the last of Fremont’s bastard. But he’d still showed up the next day tailing Prince Averett, his face purple on one side. And the day after that he’d come to her office and presented his evidence about his uncle’s grain storage scheme. She’d conceded that he might be useful, and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

And if he was going to keep going to the Prince’s room at odd hours of the night, she might as well make sure he did so more discreetly.

“Where have you been,” Roysa asked, sitting her quill down once he’d appeared.

“In the hall,” Emerson answered obliquely, inspecting his doublet for dust. “I was thinking we should get a maid-”

“No, where have you been these last few days? I didn’t see you at all on the second day of the festivities,” Roysa clarified with annoyance, getting up from her chair. “And you only attended the closing banquet today.”

“Aww, were you worried about me?,” Emerson teased. “Lady Roysa, I am flattered, but you know I don’t like hunting-”

“Yes,” Roysa said flatly, reaching out and grabbing his chin. She tilted his face back and forth, and pressed the back of her other hand against his cheek and then his forehead. “I was worried.”

Emerson squirmed, uncomfortable with the attention.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I was having- A bit of a bad time, I’ll admit it. But I’m feeling much better now.”

“Hmm,” Roysa allowed, letting his chin drop and turning to take a chair. “I assume Lord Chancellor Cromwell is responsible?”

Emerson went a little red around the ears, grateful Roysa was no longer inspecting him so thoroughly.

“I’m sure I don’t know wha-”

“For your ‘bit of a bad time’? Seeing as it followed directly after he summoned you to one of Her Majesty’s lady’s rooms- I can only predict whatever you discussed is what upset you.”

Emerson’s first instinct, as always, was to lie. But he also knew Roysa was a lot more likely to listen to him if he at least attempted to be honest.

“Somewhat, yes. The topic was not... Pleasant, but it was more… The reminder that this is my life now,” he said with a touch of bitterness and only a bit of a lie. “Rumors and court intrigue and appearances, and having to keep all of it up- And no, I’m not going to tell you what it was about,” he warned. “It doesn’t concern you, it was a personal matter.”

“Personal does not mean the same thing as private when it comes to nobility,” she reminded him, and Emerson chuckled.

“There was a misunderstanding,” Emerson said, settling himself onto a window ledge. “I cleared up my part in it. I believe the whole thing shall be resolved shortly. If it is not- I shall resolve it myself,” he said with a tone of reproach.

Roysa looked at him with narrow eyes.

“And you will tell me if I need to be made aware?”

“If you needed to be made aware, I would have come to you immediately. But if anything changes in that regard- I will tell you,” Emerson replied and after a beat, Roysa nodded curtly.

It was a testament to how far their odd relationship had come- That she not only trusted he would tell her if it was the sort of thing she should know, but that she thought he had a good enough grasp on what sort of things she wanted to know.

When it became clear she was going to accept his word, Emerson moved on.

“The discrepancies in Baron Tihos of Icolta’s finances,” he said, pulling a piece of paper out and crossing the room to hand it to her before returning to his seat. Roysa unfolded it and looked over the series of numbers with interest. One column was long, the other much shorter but with greater quantities. Emerson never labelled any of his notes, which was probably safest.

“Amounts unaccounted for in two ledgers, actually- We only caught on to the more recent ones because of the larger amounts. And because we were looking for it.”

Tihos had been one of the nobles to contest Avery’s claim to the throne and petition in favor of Grace, and though he hadn’t vocally opposed the treaty and marriage, he had not exactly been supportive. It wasn’t a difficult leap, to suppose he might have had reason to organize the attack on Meera.

“Now, I can’t be positive because I don’t exactly have full access to everything, and there’s only so much mathematics I can reasonably be expected to do in a short time period and in the dark,” Emerson began, and the sides of Roysa’s mouth lifted slightly.

“Yes, Lord Emerson, you have a brain like no other- You dazzle me with your near-perfect memory and your speed at calculations,” she flattered flatly. “Do get to the point.”

“I would guess the smaller payments go back about six years,” he said. “Because the larger payments- They match the tuition amounts and schedule of an educational establishment in Icolta, that molds the minds of those young offspring of the wealthy merchants and lesser nobles and occasional celebrated artisan,” he explained.


“They’ll take pupils as young as even 6 or 7, I hear. And right before those larger payments started accumulating into the amount I first noticed missing- He’d made a sizeable contribution in recognition of the ‘public good’.”

“You think he has a bastard son,” Roysa said in understanding.

“Bastard grandson seems more likely, considering,” Emerson said, though he nodded in agreement.

“It should definitely be looked into more,” Emerson suggested, because he would never have imagine Baron Tihos to be financially supportive out of sentimentality. There was definitely something going on there- At the very least, the mother had blackmail material. And if the baron was going to continue being a pest, it would be good to have leverage.

“But he hasn’t been hiring mercenaries to ambush Their Majesties,” Roysa surmised, and Emerson nodded.

“If he has- Then I can’t figure where the money went. Or came from in the first place.”

Roysa nodded with a sigh.

“I should be pleased, and yet-”

“Our other leads aren’t panning out either then?,” Emerson asked, crossing his arms across his chest with a frown.

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “Though most of the time when I’ve spoken to the Lord Chancellor recently, it’s been about the trade deal, so perhaps I’m out of date- Though I assume he would inform me, or at least His Majesty, if there was anything new to report.”

“Would he?,” Emerson asked with a raised brow, and Roysa turned to him.

“You were the one who thought we ought to be suspicious of him,” Roysa pointed out. “So perhaps I should yield to your impression of him. What have you uncovered on him?”

Not nearly as much as I would have liked, Emerson thought, with some annoyance.

He should have- Well, there was a lot of things he should have done, in retrospect. Like left, as soon as he’d realized that he had Cromwell’s interest, instead of just his annoyance.

“He keeps some of the drawers and cabinets of his desk locked,” Emerson said, but that was hardly suspicious in of itself. Several of the compartments of Roysa’s desk were locked. It would be more suspicious if the Lord Chancellor didn’t have locks. “But of the things I went through,” Emerson admitted, “Nothing caught my eye.”

Emerson was good at patterns, at looking at a whole picture and realizing where the puzzle pieces might be missing. The papers he had rifled through didn’t indicate that Cromwell was keeping secrets- At least beyond what was to be expected of a high ranking royal advisor.

Of course, if Emerson had dragged their fliration out the way he ought to have, he would have had more time to investigate. He would have had a ready made excuse to be hanging about Cromwell’s office or even his suite perhaps, and the Chancellor would have thought he was just playing hard to get. Emerson should have been thinking about his long term goals, instead of being distracted by Cromwell’s hand on his neck, creeping beneath his loose braid-

“He does seem to be loyal to Her Majesty,” Roysa mused. “I think- so long as we continue to align our goals with hers- he will not be too much trouble.”

“You are only considering him in a friendlier light because of that dog,” Emerson groused, and Roysa’s eyes sparked with a hint of mirth.

“I’m not suggesting we trust him,” Rosya said. “Only that we don’t waste too much energy on not trusting him. He could prove to be a valuable asset.”

“Not if he continues the way he has been,” Emerson pointed out. “There’s value in being private- generates a little intrigue, a little mystery- but being standoffish is going to make it difficult to integrate him with the rest of the court.”

“Yes, things would be easier if he would be a bit more... Social,” Roysa agreed. “But that is because you are trying to make him fit into a role you have in mind. Not coming up with a use that serves his current role,” she pointed out. “I made the same mistake with you, if you recall.”

Emerson looked away from his view of the city to flash her a grin. They had clashed quite a bit, in the beginning.

“He seems to be a fine enough gentleman,” Roysa concluded. Fine enough indeed, Emerson thought. It really was a shame there wasn’t going to a repeat of the other night’s activities. Men like Cromwell got what they wanted and were satisfied to move on once they’d had it. Emerson should have been smarter in his approach.

“Well, don’t go trying to match him up with anyone- He isn’t interested in such things,” Emerson advised her, and even as he said it, he felt an uncomfortable twinge at the reminder.

“Ah yes- I hear his childhood fiancee lives secluded on his lands in Theren, on account that she abhors court life, and they are to be wed once he returns. Apparently, he writes to her each day,” Roysa revealed, and Emerson leaned forward despite himself.

“I didn’t see anything like a love letter-”

“I also hear that he’s been in love with Her Majesty for years but is content to pine away so long as he can just be near to her,” Roysa continued. “Or that he is a eunuch monk who left his monastery to seek his fortune,” she added with a raised brow, and the sides of Emerson’s mouth twitched upward.

Well. That one certainly wasn’t true.

“That last one come from Vienna?,” he asked with a laugh, and Roysa shook her head.

“I doubt it- Your cousin is usually more believable,” Roysa allowed. “And smarter, too.”

Emerson had seen his cousin dancing with Cromwell, but it hadn’t been clear how the encounter had gone. Roysa was right, though- Vienna would never risk alienating or humiliating someone, until doing so actually served her goals.

“But you seemed to be having success in drawing him out a bit,” Roysa observed.

“A bit,” Emerson agreed hesitantly. He tried not to think about the other night and how… Nice, it had been. Usually he had a plan, an angle, or at the very least he knew he had certain expectations to meet when it came to his performance.

But Cromwell had seemed confident in what he wanted and what he wanted Emerson to want, and Emerson wasn’t quite sure why he’d gone along with it. Maybe because it had been enjoyable, and Emerson hadn’t had any other goals to distract him. Maybe because Cromwell had kissed him first, or met his eyes with that dark stare before he’d put his hand on Emerson’s waist, or-

Maybe it was because Emerson had gotten high earlier in the afternoon. That was probably it.

He shifted uncomfortably in his window seat.

“Well, I think at this point he knows I’m available. If he needs a friend!,” Emerson clarified. “And I’ll certainly still keep an eye on him. But for now- Give him space and see what he does with it?”

“I agree,” Roysa nodded, and Emerson couldn’t decide if he was relieved or not. It was for the best, though. And gods knew he would prefer to avoid Cromwell for at least the next week.

“Let me know if you find out any more on Baron Tihos,” Roysa said. “And could you look into Baroness Elleni’s plans? I hear she may be leaving us within a few days- But that she has arranged for several months lodging come spring.”

“Of course,” Emerson agreed, standing up and crossing to where Roysa was seated. “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so,” Roysa said, but she caught his hand as he turned to go.

“Emerson,” she said softly. “This doesn’t have to be your life. Rumors and court intrigue and appearances,” she said, echoing his complaints.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed automatically. “What would you do without me?”

“I managed just fine before you,” she said primly. “And I’ll manage just fine after you.”

“I’d get bored, sitting around an estate in the country,” Emerson protested. He’d had this argument with Avery before- and with Roysa multiple times, though usually under a different context- and he knew each article of the debate.

Roysa only looked at him, her lips pursed and her dark eyes sympathetic.

“You are not prey, my boy, no matter what mask you might wear. And being hunted is not a good way to entertain yourself,” she said with the sort of finality that Emerson was familiar with. If he kept attending their meetings with dark circles under his eyes, they would have this talk again.

“I know, I know,” he reassured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’ll do better,” he offered, and she made a doubtful but optimistic humming noise. Neither was satisfied, but it was about as much as either was going to get.

Emerson went back to the tapestry he had come from, sweeping it aside and pushing open the hidden door.

“Oh! A maid,” he said, his usual cheer back in force. “That’s what I was saying earlier! We should get a maid to sweep these passages, because they get awful dusty and-”

“We aren’t telling anyone else about them,” Roysa said sternly. There were already too many in the know, in her opinion.

“I’ve got a gal I trust, she’s discreet-”

“Yes, the woman you have threesomes with? And when you stop sleeping with her, how discreet will she continue to be?”

Emerson frowned. She had a point- Except of course, that Emerson’s relationship with Cara and Klara was entirely platonic. That was the trouble with lying.

“Well, then I shall track dust into your office,” Emerson warned brightly as he shut the door and locked it behind him. As it closed, he thought he heard something like, “I’m sure you know how to use a broom-”

He decided to ignore it.