𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍「𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲」

[The Witch Son]

 

[jones573]

It was a just godsdamned bird. He’d done a bird before- An eagle, with its wings spread. It had even balanced on its talons when set up right. But he was on his fourth attempt for this particular bird, not including the rough cuts he’d done to practice the shape.



This was as far as he’d gotten on any of the attempts, and it didn’t look completely awful. It had the long neck and the slender, curling tail which he’d remembered to not make too slender, else it might break off.



Maybe it would be best not to detail it too much, Averett thought, as he brought his knife around the bird’s neck to shave down a lumpy spot into smoothness. The horses he made for Grace could get very detailed indeed, but he’d also made dozens of those by now.



“This is foolish, Avery,” his aunt said from behind him, and he startled suddenly, his knife slipping and lopping the bird's head clean off. He swore loudly at the interruption, and at the newest failed attempt.



“You have already expressed that sentiment in every possible combination of words,” Avery returned irritably, frowning at the older woman. “You are the one being foolish, if you hope to sway me by repeating your arguments.”



Roysa had strongly supported a marriage between Averett and Meera, back when it had been Elion’s idea. She insisted her change in position was not due to which nephew was suggesting it, but because the situation had changed. She had multitudes of reasons why it was no longer advisable, and could lecture for hours about why the marriage was a bad idea. Had lectured for hours, though at least mostly privately.



“Not the wedding,” the stern-looking woman snapped back, though she softened a bit. “I told you- I will not attempt to dissuade you on the matter any longer. What’s done is done, and I shall attempt to be gracious about it.”



He was glad his aunt had kept her arguments mostly within his small circle of advisors- Lady Roysa was a respected noblewoman, and her opinions held considerable weight in the court. He doubted she would be particularly warm to Meera, but at least she would not be malicious towards her.



“I meant about this ‘going to Theren to fetch her’ business,” Roysa clarified. “It is a waste of time, you could be helping with planning the ceremony. And it could be dangerous- You are not exactly beloved by their people.”



“They are ‘our’ people, Auntie,” Averett corrected with a sigh. “I’m not planning on waving my banner and announcing myself- I just want to make sure she reaches the capitol safely. She has her own... Detractors, after all.”



Most of the men in the escort had been chosen by Avery himself, because he knew their loyalty to him was absolute, and those he didn’t know personally were known by those he did. If something went wrong and Meera was killed- Well.



“You are such a worrier,” Roysa sighed. “Always thinking up new and horrible outcomes.”



“I prefer to think I am just always very prepared,” Avery responded dryly. “And I’d only be in the way here at Redhill.”



The castle had been busy during the war, of course, but it was nothing compared to the last month- The logistics of the army of servants that had descended on Redhill boggled Avery, who had organized an actual army.



He’d woken up one morning to find half a dozen people emptying out his wardrobe- Apparently, he was moving to the other side of the castle. Again. The suite of rooms he’d been moved into when he’d become king were not suitable for a married king, he was told, though when’d he first been crowned he’d been reassured that wasn’t the case.



Everyday had been a series on unending meetings and discussions- Which temple should the ceremony be held in? Was he sure that’s where Lord Cromwell should have his offices? Open or covered carriage, between the temple and Redhill? Would he like to have a hunt before the feast? What did he want served? Was he quite sure he wanted to forgo some of the ancient Beleth marriage traditions, surely it would be best to adhere to the customs-



It was either completely trivial, an obvious ploy to humiliate the new queen, or both. The treaty negotiations had been frustrating, but at least they had been important, for the most part.



“Nonsense, it’s your wedding,” his aunt told him. “I’m sure your opinion is… Valued.”



He held her gaze for a moment, and she eventually chuckled.



“Putting Grace in charge was a clever move,” she admitted. His younger sister was actually excited about the wedding, for one thing, and though they had very different tastes, she at least understood his wishes for the important matters. And it was very difficult to say no to her, which in this case worked to his advantage. She had been appalled to learn that some of the Barons were advocating to reinstate the witnessing ritual, pronouncing it ‘barbaric’ and announcing that as the groom’s next of kin, she would not be participating in any such nonsense. Her glare had been fearsome, and no one had suggested it since.



“Try not to let her get too carried away,” Avery asked his aunt, who nodded.



“You will not return to find the entire treasury wasted on fresh flowers,” she promised grimly, and Avery could only assume his aunt and sister had already had this argument, perhaps multiple times.



“We’re about ready to leave,” another voice announced, and Averett looked up to see his friend Emerson had joined them behind the stables. “Lady Roysa! Looking captivating as always,” he gushed, his red hair falling into his face as he bowed over the former princess’s hand.



If he hadn’t known to look for it, he might have missed the scrap of paper Emerson passed to his aunt.



“We’ve barely spoken lately, my lady, my heart aches to hear your voice,” he continued on, and the lady in question rolled her eyes.



“You don’t need to be such a nuisance, in private,” she scolded the younger man. “Take care of him, will you?” She was frowning down at the note, and Avery could tell his aunt was already planning her next task and the one after that- Her attempts at chastising him for the journey were really just a guise for seeing him off.



“I always do,” Emerson said with a grin, and Roysa pecked her nephew on the cheek absentmindedly before hurrying off. “C’mon then, Vee- Let’s go get your girl!”


_____



The journey had been pleasant. It had been a relief actually, to be away from court life, even if it meant a lack of comfortable beds and hot food. The men gave him plenty of grief, but he knew it was from affection and not cruelty, so it was much easier to bear than commentary from the nobility that he had no hope of parsing.



Even the ones that he hadn’t already been familiar with had fallen into the habits of their peers, calling him ‘Captain’ as though they were out on a border patrol, instead of fumbling over ‘Your Majesty’. He’d been wearing his hair down, so the dark waves were his natural ones and not the result of tight braids.



The closer they got to their destination, though, the harder it was to deny this was not some standard patrol, and Avery could feel the tension he’d managed to escape beginning to creep back up on him.



“Relax, Vee,” Emerson said next to him, reaching over to clap him good naturedly on the shoulder- The right one, even though it was the farther. “She’s real pretty, I promise! Unless she’s done something to disfigure herself since I was last here, which she might have, now that I think about it, having to marry you an’ all, would be enough to drive any girl mad-“



Averett gave his friend a very unimpressed look.



“Look: I’ll do all the talking with her folk, be the frivolous noble,” Emerson reminded him- He certainly had a lot of practice with the role. “You be the surly military man,” which Avery supposed he also had practice with, “Stalk paranoid circles around us the whole way home like you didn’t make us do godsdamned protection drills on the way here, deliver her to your sister to fawn over for a day or so, we go to temple, we do a feast, everyone pretends to be happy for you, the two of you have some fat little babies to unite the area, and we all live in peace for generations to come, all right?”



“Ah yes, so simple,” Avery told him with a note of obvious sarcasm.



“Well, I suppose there will be some trickier bits in between,” Emerson allowed. “But let’s just focus on getting her back to Beleth for now, hmm?”



They’d arrived, Avery realized, and Emerson was reaching into his saddlebags to pull out the heavy scroll.



“I am Lord Emerson,” he announced, loudly enough that probably even the Theren guards who had not left their post to come eye them warily could hear him. “By the order of King Averett of Beleth, myself and this squad of men are to escort Queen Meera to the city of Cokinos, and to her wedding.”



He presented the scroll, stamped with the seal of the king. The inside read much the same, though it also bore the signatures of those who had verified both Meera and Averett’s signatures on the treaty and marriage agreement.

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera

Location: Delphi, The Castle Gates| Interacting with: Lord Emerson

By the spirits what in the utter hell was she thinking. There was no going back on the decision now, her ladies could very well not be fetched all the way from Beleth and then back to her only to turn around and head towards Beleth again. Even if it would give her courage. Besides, she had made that particular decision because it was safer for them, had they been murdered, like there was every possibility of happening to her on her journey to Beleth, she would never be consolable. Her wretched death in the dirt with no one friendly around her was preferable to the harm of her ladies, and in some way it felt as though that was exactly what she deserved, was it not the fate of so many of her people in the war? There would be more war if she were to die. Theren would take up arms again, and lose. It would be a massacre. These thoughts and more swirled in her head as she stared at nothing in particular, worrying by herself and looking like a statue of misery in the corner of the stall. “At least you will be there with me.” She cooed to Reya, her dapple grey mare, trying to muster up a smile. But the thought of her mare dying with her too wiped that right off.

Really it was no help envisioning her own death and hiding away in the corner of her mare’s stall, and frankly it was a bit childish. Lord Blackbird would know where she was, he always did, hiding from that man was impossible. But maybe he was just letting her steal away what few moments alone she could. Out of everyone he knew how frightened she was, had seen her attempt at dignified bravery waver. As annoying as his shadow was sometimes, a reminder of her duties, she was in the end grateful to him for being a source of strength.

All of this new worry centered around the trip hadn’t been there initially, but Lord Blackbird had fought tooth and nail over the logistics of how she was to travel with the dignitaries. She hadn’t understood why it was so important to have that nailed down before signing anything until he informed her that there were people, specifically Belethans, who wanted her dead. She had never experienced that before, people hating her and wanting her dead. Meera was so accustomed to being loved. It was a shock, but it had made sense, of course they wanted her dead. She was considered their enemy, just as she considered them her’s. Meera had let him argue on her behalf from then on while processing the information. She had been so shell shocked over how fast everything had happened she had barely come to accept it by now, the day she was leaving for a place she was to call home until her death. Which would come sooner or later depending on her luck. How was she to make a place that hated her her home? Deep in her heart she knew what she had to do, she just hadn’t quite accepted it yet, nor could she muster the strength. How she wished her father were here. He always made her felt she was invincible when she was by his side. Like her smile could win the whole room. Then again, he had seemed so invincible himself…

At some point she had contemplated revenge, somehow obtaining it. The thought had comforted her when she was most angry at the world and her situation. But that was childish, and frankly impossible without damning her people. No, she had to do something even more difficult, she had to walk into a den of her enemies, and make them love her. She had to be humble and take their glares with grace, take their humiliations and their ire with ease. All while being dignified and in charge somehow. How exactly was she supposed to manage that?

-outside the castle gates-

The guards had seen the party of Belethans arriving from afar but no one had made any moves to usher them in or welcome them. The only person who needed to dirty his hands with that was Lord Cromwell, and he didn’t appear to be in any hurry to meet them either. The general consensus amongst the men was that this was all a bad idea. Their Queen belonged with them, in their country and in this castle. They did not fancy having her shipped off to enemy territory. Don’t get them wrong, they loved their regent dearly, but they loved their Princess too. She was supposed to rule as Queen here.

Cromwell was well aware of all of this, but everyone’s feelings on the matter right now could not possibly have mattered less. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would have to drag everyone through this process kicking and screaming, and he was already annoyed by it. Why couldn’t everyone see? This was the only option, and frankly it was the best outcome of all of this. Would everyone prefer to be occupied and murdered in their beds?

“Who the hell is this bloody jester?” One guard whispered to the other while stepping forward and flanking the quick paced Lord Cromwell, who approached Emerson without greeting and took the scroll, looking over it carefully as though he had not seen it about a thousand times. Enough to be able to recite it word for word and see the damned thing in his cursed dreams. It checked out. “Welcome my Lord, we are ready to depart of course, my men to accompany to the border, and then half to part ways. As agreed.” He reminded Lord Emerson, just in case there was to be any disagreement on that. His men, his best ones, would travel at the back of the party once in Beleth territory but they were still to be there, and were to stay on as his personal troop once in Beleth. And there wasn’t going to be any budging on that.

He handed the scroll back and turned, giving the hand signal for the gates to open, the accompanying men came out but he knew something was amiss when the Queen did not lead them. He paused, thinking she might be behind them and though that was not decorum at least she would still be coming out of the gate likes she was supposed to…

She wasn’t fucking there. He gritted his teeth, “A moment Lord Emerson.” He said cooly, doing his best to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He sighed and approached the captain of the guard. “Where the hell-”

“We don’t know.” The captain deadpanned back.

“The hell do you mean you don’t know.” He seethed quietly through his teeth, no, this wasn’t happening. He was not going to go looking through the whole gobsmacked castle looking for the Queen who was supposed to be ready to go.

He was about to be furious at the thought of having to do that when the Queen herself came riding out, appearing in fine spirits and ready to go in full riding gear, tiara fastened to her head of curly hair. It wiped the fury off of his face. The last he had seen her she seemed near tears.

“Whatever is the matter everyone? You all seem so dour, do you not know that you’re Queen is off to be married? There should be smiles on your faces shouldn’t there be?” She came to a stop, trotting around the captain and his men. The seemed to relieve some of the tension. Egged on by that small victory Meera turned Reya around and trotted up to meet the emissaries from Beleth. But before reaching them she noticed the balcony, just barely, her ladies, the ones she was leaving behind came out.

“Long live the Queen!” They shouted, startling her. She huffed in surprise and cracked the first genuine smile she had all day, they rained some flowers down on her and she managed to catch one, just barely. She inclined her head. They had already said goodbye, not wanting to cry as she left, so this, this was a show of courage. And it worked. She waved at them, moving away slowly, but move she did, she had to.

She approached the red haired Lord, eyeing the carriage, if he thought she was going to get in that he had another thing coming. She was going to ride while she was in Theren, she was going to say a proper goodbye to her people.

That hadn’t been the plan but well, she didn’t care, she had decided to change that plan.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

“Excellent!” Emerson beamed in Lord Cromwell’s direction at the acknowledgement of the agreement, and his smile did not falter even at the obvious delay when Meera did not appear. “Take your time.”



Averett, gripping the reins to the carriage, would not have been able to keep up his own smile, had he been smiling in the first place. Maybe she had changed her mind, maybe something had happened to her, maybe this was a trap- He was scanning for threats when she appeared, riding out on a fine horse, and he forced himself to relax. Also, to acknowledge that there was very little chance they were getting her off that horse until it was absolutely necessary.



Fine.



He gestured to one of his men on horseback, and they quickly switched places.



“Lord Chancellor Cromwell, was it?,” Emerson confirmed, fairly certain he recognized the man. Emerson had not really been involved in the actually negotiating of anything, but he had gone between the Theren capital and the Beleth army’s encampment to ferry messages enough that he had become familiar with several faces.

“I seem to recall you always had something in hand- We have the carriage if you’ve papers to work on, and the cart if you’d prefer the open air.” It might smell a bit like dried beef portions, Emerson supposed, but he reckoned the Lord Chancellor might be willing to put up with it if it meant he could get his work down and still keep the Queen in view. “And of course, we have several spare mounts, if you wish to ride and aren’t bringing your own,” he also offered.



Averett did not ride out to meet Meera, but allowed her and Reya to join up with his group of men, several of their own horses moving off the road a bit to give the newcomer a wider berth.



“Your Majesty,” he said politely, dipping his head in her direction.



“Cap’n Vee, you want ‘er men flanking ‘er, then? Foot or mounted,” one of the older men called out gruffly, sizing up the queen’s guard as though he were suspicious that they may not be able to understand such simple formations.



Averett stifled a sigh- that was what he had been intending to determine, before he’d been interrupted- and continued.



“If you’ll be riding, I’d like to be between you and the closest side of the road,” he said in a way that indicated it wasn’t a preference that was up for discussion. “But however you and your men usually travel, we can accommodate,” he assured her. If the mare wasn’t used to moving with spearmen on either side of her, he didn’t want her spooked, and same if she would be uncomfortable with other horses, too. “Though if you could spare a few men, I would like them to pair with mine on the perimeter patrol rotations, as they know the area better.”

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & Lord Cromwell

Location: Delphi, The Castle Gates| Interacting with: Lord Emerson & "Captain Vee"

Cromwell clasped his hands behind his back, returning to the side of Lord Emerson while observing the Queen very… carefully. He couldn’t tell if her bravado was genuine or not, which probably meant it didn’t matter if it was real or not and was good enough to pass as genuine.

“Mmm.” Was his only acknowledgment of Lord Emerson until he mentioned work, at which Sebastion huffed a snort of air out of his nose at. “I am already accused of awful penmanship my Lord I believe a moving carriage would only serve to render the whole thing absolutely useless.” He turned to look at Emerson, really look at him for perhaps the first time since becoming aware of his existence. A redhead, a chirpy one. Had he been observing him? For what reason? Was he simply an observant individual? Sebastion didn’t trust it, whatever the motives were, but really it was more than likely that he was just giving Emerson too much credit. He tended to do that, overestimate people. Perhaps there was some truth to the accusations of paranoia laid towards his character.

Cromwell only knew trying to work whilst in a moving carriage was useless because he’d attempted it before, the ink got everywhere, honestly he had to just give up at some point and resign himself strictly to reading. But while writing was next to impossible in a moving carriage and not even a concept while on horseback - Cromwell had actually mastered the art of reading casually while riding. Especially if it was in a group and he could trust his steed Merchant to just follow. If the Queen wasn’t going to ride in the carriage then he wasn’t going to bother either. No, better that he ride behind her, keeping himself her shadow as was his prerogative.

“Unnecessary Lord Emerson thank you.” He motioned with his hand, Merchant, who was originally just going to ride alongside one of the guard was brought to him. He mounted, reaching into his cloak to bring out a small book and maneuvering in line.

“Your Majesty,” A soldier greeted Meera and inclined his head, which she returned, a little confused but smiling none the less. He was young, and very handsome, but he carried himself as though he were in charge. Which was odd because she would have pinned the next man to speak as the one in charge. He was certainly older, and gruffer. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes at his attitude and simply pretended that it had gone over her head entirely.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea Captain Vee, I trust your judgement, and in any case I think we should force the men to work together instead of letting them compare whose sword is bigger!” She turned and winked at the offending party. “It’s mine, mine is bigger.” She joked.

“Although, as we move through Theren there will be people, crowds possibly. I intend to greet them, and that means being closer to the side of the road than you anticipate Captain. But if you allow me that I promise I shall allow you whatever rules you see fit thereafter.” She smiled widely, certain that her tactic of first agreeing with him and then negotiating a later term would work. It usually did, and he seemed to be an agreeable man. Besides, he wasn’t going to be able to stop in anyhow. She was simply trying to get everyone on the same page so that he wasn’t too sour with her later. He was already inclined not to like her she didn’t need to go out of her way to give him more.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

Emerson merely grinned wider when Cromwell turned to assess him, offering him no particular response other than to nod at the older man’s decision. One of the mounted men led a tall, copper gelding by the reins to where Emerson was standing, and he swung himself up into the saddle easily via the stirrups despite the height.



He chuckled a bit when he heard Meera’s declaration.



“Ah, she is going to be trouble, isn’t she,” he said mostly to himself, but he seemed pleased by the prospect instead of concerned and proceeded to make a series of faces in Avery’s direction, which went mostly ignored by the other man, or at least did not receive a response.



If Averett were to guess, Emerson was attempting to communicate something along the lines of ‘See? I told you she was pretty,’ because… She was, he supposed. In a purely objective sort of way. Not that it mattered much. He wasn’t marrying her for her looks.



“Yes, well,” he hedged, unsure of her winking and somewhat joking demeanor. “Let us hope there is no need to draw our weapons.”



He couldn’t recall her weapons proficiency at the moment, but he would feel better if she had a dagger at least. He would speak to her about it when they took their first break, he decided, but for now he was too anxious to get moving that he was even willing to let her think he would let her greet her people.



“You musn’t mind our Captain, Your Majesty,” Emerson said loudly from behind them, and Avery would have winced if he wasn’t already so practiced at concealing his reactions so as to deny his friend the satisfaction.



“He’s a suspicious sort of fellow, so I want you to know- He’s going to tell you ‘no’, and he’s absolutely going to make you sit in the carriage any time we pass through anything resembling a town, and I assure you it has everything to do with him and is no way a reflection on you and your delightfully charming personality and perfectly reasonable requests, in fact I’m surprised the brute hasn’t demanded you get rid of that flower yet,” Emerson explained, obviously content to continue speaking if he wasn’t interrupted.



“You may keep as many flowers as you like,” Averett cut him sharply off by addressing Meera instead. Why wouldn’t he let her keep a flower?



“You are being absurd,” he snapped at Emerson, who grinned.



“Oh? That’s wonderful to hear,” his friend said genially. “As I’m sure her requests were perfectly reasonable indeed. Perhaps he has a heart beneath that armor, after all,” he joked to Meera, and not for the first time, Avery regretted his friendship with the bastard.



“You… May greet your people if that is what you wish, Your Majesty,” he allowed, dutifully ignoring Emerson. “But if it slows our travel time, we will have to make up for it on other parts of the trip.” Honestly he might feel safer camping in the woods as needed than in predetermined and exposed inns, but ladies tended to prefer the comfort of walls and beds over tents and dirt, he’d found.



“And if you wish to pass through the cities at a rate that will allow you to greet the people, then guards on foot will have no issue keeping pace on either side of your horse,” he added firmly. He could still stay between her and the nearest side of the road without blocking the people’s view of her if he walked, and could keep one hand on his sword and the other on her reins.

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & Lord Cromwell

Location: Theren - Corinth, near the border to Megara| Interacting with: Lord Emerson & "Captain Vee"

Meera wasn’t sure the Captain really understood her joke if his response was anything to go by. She gave him a funny look but let it be, in any case some people chuckled, she swore she heard SOME chuckling. This Captain sure was uptight, but bless his soul a lot of military men were.

“Oh come now there won’t be.” She assured him, brushing the thought away, though entirely aware that her optimism would not guarantee a damn thing.

Lord Emerson spoke from behind her and she turned as much as her mount would allow to regard him, her mouth opening in false shock at his words, she laughed, aghast.

“What kind of man doesn’t like flowers?!” She teased, eyes wide and affronted, grin widening when he told Lord Emerson that he was being absurd. She decided right there and then that she quite liked Lord Emerson. She would have to ask her Lord Blackbird to find out more about him. He didn’t seem to dislike her in the least, and she needed every ally she could get in Beleth.

She listened intently to the Captain’s terms and nodded, finding them agreeable for now, “Well don’t be slow on my account Captain Vee.” She clicked her tongue, signalling her horse who began to set a brisk pace.

"I have nothing against flowers," Avery insisted, though he supposed he wouldn't exactly describe himself as 'liking' them either. His opinion of flowers was relatively neutral, and more importantly, had absolutely nothing to do with the safety of the queen and were only being discussed because Emerson had decided they should be.

Meera found it amusing that the Captain would think it necessary to assure her that he wasn’t against them at all. So serious about such a simple thing.

"Could be a poisoned flower," Emerson speculated, trying to come up with a valid reason why Avery might actually believe something as silly as a flower might be a threat to Meera. His suggestion made her frown.

"A very small knife in the stem, meant to stab you while you hold it! At the very least," he suggested to Meera with a grin, "It could have a nefariously floral plot to make you sneeze."

"I am sure Her Majesty can be trusted to know her own limitations when it comes to which plants might make her nose run," Avery told his friend with annoyance, and increased his own pace to keep up with Meera, who was chortling at Lord Emerson’s joke.

"Do not feel obliged to trust anything Lord Emerson tells you," he advised her. "He seems to think that because the royal family tolerates his antics, he can behave however he pleases, regardless the company. He means no harm with his joking, but he is known for letting his tongue run him into trouble more often than not."

“Oh if anyone is to hold Lord Emerson’s tongue against him I do not think it will be me. He makes me laugh, even if he did have the absolute audacity to suggest that my beloved ladies in waiting, whom I had to leave behind tearfully, would ever wish me any harm.” She turned a raised brow to the offending party, trying not to grin.

_

Avery knew Meera had meant to keep her word, when it came to the pace of their travels. But as she had predicted, crowds had gathered to see her off, in every city or village they passed through or even near- That, a washed out road they'd had to find a way around, and the increased size of their party made the journey much slower. Meera had seemed to enjoy giving her flower to an elderly man and slowed down to touch people’s hands, even stopping to talk at some points.

They'd tried to make up the time, but it was no use- The horses were tired and the inn they'd planned to spend the night in still too far, and though one of the men had suggested the party split up so that Meera and a few others could take the freshest horses and ride on to the nearest town with an empty room... Well, no one from either country had responded to the idea with any amount of enthusiasm, and it had died before anyone could articulate why they disliked it, even though it was perfectly logical. Much to Meera’s chagrin.

So, camping it was. At least the weather was nice, as was the spot- Trees offered privacy and some protection, but the greenery was not so dense that it blinded them to any approaching parties. It felt comfortable to Avery, the sound of the men setting up the field tents and cursing mildly at each other, the horses being led off to graze in groups under the eye of a watchful minder, Emerson shouting cheerily about something.

"The carriage is not meant as sleeping quarters, but it is yours for the evening if you'd like it, Your Majesty," he informed Meera. "The tents are also... lacking in comforts," he admitted a tad shamefully, "But they are dark and private, and we can pull the cushions out of the carriage for you to sleep on."

Meera’s brow furrowed in thought as she considered both possibilities. They had three tents, each just big enough for maybe two soldiers to share -three, if they were slighter than Avery and no taller than Emerson- and on the nights the party hadn't stopped at an inn on the way to Delphi, Avery and Emerson had shared one and let the men sleeping on the earliest and latest shifts use the others, so their sleep would be as dark as those who slept when the sun had no influence on the brightness of the sky.

One for Meera and one for Cromwell left less flexibility in that regard, but they were soldiers and had slept in far worse conditions, and Avery knew none of his men would complain.

Cromwell began to put his opinion on the matter in before being interrupted by a certain chirpy redhead.

"I have much more exciting dilemmas to consider! Queen Meera, Lord Cromwell," Emerson greeted them enthusiastically, gesturing towards the far side of the clearing where a young soldier sat with two dead animals on his lap. "Rabbit, or duck? And/or the standard traveling provisions, of course," he added- They had dried meat and dried fruit, and bread that had been bought only in Delphi that was also probably dried now as well.

"I promise we will feed you much better in Redhill," he added, with a wrinkle between his red eyebrows, as though he was worried that his new queen might think she would spend the rest of her life eating only what wild game could be found in the hour before a meal. "But for now you will have to accept my apologies for the substandard fare- I realize that what is an exciting meal to soldiers is perhaps not as enticing for you!"

“I think…” Meera began, looking between the carriage and the Lord Emerson. “...That the soldiers who caught that game deserve it more than I do, split it amongst them Lord Emerson. And as for where I’ll sleep; The carriage should be fine, no need to take up a tent to myself.” Meera said diplomatically, thinking more for practicalities’ sake than anything else. As for her choice to surrender her fresh dinner, while the bickering and overall distrust between the men was wearing her patience thin she did appreciate them and wanted to show it. Also screw Lord Emerson for thinking she couldn’t handle eating travel provisions, as if she hadn’t spent time traveling abroad to every other court in the land.

It didn’t show on his face but Lord Cromwell’s stomach plummeted at this, he had wanted that duck tonight. Soldiers be damned, they could have duck when they managed entire kingdoms how about that? Instead of voicing this however he simply moved to where a fire was being built near them.

Emerson frowned slightly at Meera’s response, but Avery got there first.

“Ahh,” Avery said hesitantly, unsure how to explain. “The game was caught for you- It could be seen as rude, to refuse it. Have the duck, it was likely harder to catch.”

“And the duck should feed the four of us just fine,” Emerson added, eyeing the size of the waterfowl and estimating the appetites of the highest ranking members of the party. “The rabbit can be shared best by the rest of the men in a stew.”

“Oh… I see, things are different in Beleth aren’t they. Yes then as you suggest.” Meera’s face fell, troubled. She hadn’t thought it might seem rude, and the concept had seemed strange to her but it took little to accept it. She’d found it was best to accept and apologize where necessary when it came to things like that.

She moved towards where Lord Cromwell was sitting now, reading. “Be sure the ladies sent my way are prepared to inform me on Belethan etiquette Lord Blackbird. And that dance teacher I asked about.” She told him quietly, passing him and sitting a little ways away.

He looked up and inclined his head in answer, which was enough for her. She was more tired than she had realized, though it had more to do with emotion than physical fatigue. They had rode past a few places where battle had been done today.

“Not always so different,” Emerson hedged. “But with these men, at least- They’ve been instructed to treat you they way they might the Princess Graceling, and I trust they will. At Redhill, things will be more complicated, and niceties may have more hidden strings,” he admitted, unable to keep the slight edge of sourness from his usually genial tone as he took a seat as well, though the Captain had gone off to talk with the men about dinner and watch rotations.

“But for the time being, at least, you will not be offered anything that you are not in good faith meant to enjoy,” he assured her. “And if it is within my power, I shall endeavor to alert you to anything in the future not offered in good faith.”

The men would have found it odd for her to prefer travel provisions to game, but would likely have not been terribly offended, especially since Avery would have glared at anyone who seemed like they might have an attitude about it. But it had been caught with the intention to be fed to the new queen and lord, and dividing both pieces between the men might have caused some discomfort- It was easier for everyone, for the rarer meat to go to the nobility and for the soldiers to split the rabbit in a broth.

This earned a smile that didn’t quite reach Meera’s eyes. She was positive he did not mean poison, but well, food offered in bad faith… she decided not to comment on it. There was no point in doing so for if his comment had truly meant ill will there would be little Meera could do about it right here and now given she was more or less at the mercy of everyone here. Her men wouldn’t allow anything to be said against her, and certainly no harm, but a skirmish was the very last thing she wanted. The object was to reach her destination in hopes to bring about peace after all.

“The Princess Grace, do you know her well? What is she like?” Meera asked, immediately curious once she was mentioned. She knew only her name and age. Lord Emerson seemed very friendly to be sure, and his accounts might be a bit… exaggerated she had gathered, but he was entrusted with the task of fetching her. So that had to count for something.

“I am fonder of Princess Grace than some of my own sisters,” Emerson freely admitted, though his relationship with some of those sisters was so contentious that it wasn’t saying much.

“And she is fond of nearly everyone she meets,” he continued. “I have met a great many people, but I think she has the most persistently cheerful disposition of the lot. She may be a bit… Sheltered,” he admitted, “But she has a sweet nature, and is tremendously excited to meet you, Your Majesty. I think the two of you shall get along well, if only because she very much hopes for it to be so, and has a way of making such things happen even without permission or invitation.”

He had initially regarded her as a nuisance at best, a corresponding figure to Avery as his own sisters were to him, but his opinion had changed radically while spending time with the girl, without him ever being quite aware of it until one day he realized he was seeking her out just to speak with her as a friend, instead of as a means to communicate with her busy older brothers. Also, she was one of the only people who could appreciate just how thoroughly Averett needed to be mocked at times, and Grace and Emerson had spent many hours trading stories and laughing privately about his missteps.

Meera found that by all accounts Lord Emerson’s rendition of the princess had been glowing. And she had to admit, “I have always wanted a little sister. A brother. Siblings in general Lord Emerson but I suppose it was simply not written in the stars…” Meera mused, staring off and thinking of princess Grace. “I confess I am very excited to meet her as well. And it sounds as though we will get along famously. I am very glad to hear that Lord Emerson thank you. This is the perhaps the best news I’ve heard in awhile.” Meera’s grin grew as she thought of the possibilities. It sounded as though out of everyone she was likely to meet, the princess she would have to least trouble winning over, given she was so young and predisposed towards optimism.

If she was sheltered, perhaps she did not hold prejudices towards Theren, as others were like to do. That would be refreshing depending on the atmosphere of the castle. She wished she knew more of what to expect precisely and worried over it constantly these days. The anxiety of it prickling her mind especially at night.

And besides, the princess could be Meera’s fantasy of spoiling a little sister come to life. She’d desperately wanted to do so growing up, picking out pretty silks for her dresses, dancing with her, getting her out of her lessons with her tutors and in general causing all sorts of mayhem. All in good fun. In fact, in good faith Meera had brought a bolt of Theren silk for the princess, to be made into whatever fashion she liked.

“Now Lord Emerson, at the risk of sounding like I am interrogating you. It is my understanding that the King’s aunt is made Queen Regent currently? What is she like?” Meera inquired.


“Not at all,” Emerson assured the queen happily. “I am always delighted to share my opinions, especially when those involved are not here to defend themselves,” he said with a laugh.

“The Lady Roysa,” he said more somberly, “Is… Difficult to describe in a way that is both accurate, and would be approved by the lady herself. She is… Stern in her demeanor, and demanding in her expectations,” he admitted. He wondered if Meera knew, that Roysa had been a vocal opponent of the marriage.

She wasn’t in fact, aware of this, but as Lord Emerson went on she would suspect.

“But of all the King’s advisors, her opinions are likely the most valued. She has spent her life at court and counseled four kings of Beleth now, and I imagine her hard exterior has come about partially from necessity. She is a difficult woman to befriend, and dangerous to underestimate or disrespect,” he warned, knowing from his own disastrous experiences.

“Though- You are hardly a bastard fool known for your frivolity, claiming an unpayable debt with her thought-dead nephew,” he joked. “So you may have a much easier time with her than I did!”

Meera was surprised at how Emerson’s tone could go from dark and serious and then lilt back into comedic. He was someone who knew how to manipulate tension in a conversation, a useful skill indeed. She allowed her emotions to go on the ride he took them on, listening intently with gravitas until cracking a smirk at the end of his prose.

“Don’t do yourself a disservice Lord Emerson. I’ve found you to be very pleasant and nothing but accommodating.” She told him honestly.

There was a lot to address in what he said, and his account left more questions than she had before. She wasn’t aware that Lord Emerson was a bastard, and if so how is it he has become so trusted by the King? What was this unpayable debt he spoke of and what did it have to do with Lady Roysa’s nephew, the King? Did this have something to do with the incident in which the King had been kidnapped by pirates?

Meera was aware of that incident, news of it had spread far past her own Kingdom and home, another royal child dead. Beleth had lost a great many royal children in her lifetime. It happened from time to time, but Beleth especially seemed to get the worst of luck in this regard. By the spirits what of her own children? She would be expected to have them of course, in fact she had recalled during the contract negotiations they had at first demanded that she give birth to no less than two sons. Which had been particularly ridiculous given that Meera in no way had control of such a thing. They kept insisting that she did much to her abject horror but in the end Cromwell had his way and it was negotiated that she need only be sure to birth a healthy heir. Again not something entirely up to her but expected nonetheless.

Meera realized that she was staring at the fire a little too intently and had gone silent. “And… her nephew you said… The King, what is he like?” She asked uncertainly. “You should hear what they say about him in Theren. All hogwash I’m sure, especially since the new accounts of him differ so greatly from the old.” Meera rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“A bit like the Captain over there,” Emerson said, gesturing at Avery who was deep in conversation with several men, looking a piece of paper. A map, maybe. Probably deciding the details of the watch rotation and best lookout locations, Emerson figured. Or discussing the finer points of different sword and dagger handle styles, or something equally boring that Emerson pretended to care about when Avery seemed excited. “Except perhaps with a bigger stick up his ass, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

Meer gasped audibly and covered her mouth to keep from laughing. “Lord Emerson!” She exclaimed in a hushed tone.

Avery looked over at them with a slight frown, as if he had somehow developed an instinct to know whenever Emerson was talking shit about him. But Emerson offered a grin and a quick wave, and the Captain went back to what he was doing.

“What do they say about him in Theren?”

“Well.” Meera eyed the Captain, considering his personality while she gathered what to leave out in her account of him from her court. “They say he is hunchbacked and walks with a limp. On account of his peg leg, which he apparently acquired during his time as a pirate. As well as his eyepatch. He is apparently a cruel barbarian who takes all that he wants and damns anyone who tries to stop him. That he is unfair and crass and wishes nothing more than for the destruction of civilization as we know it in favor of a morally desolate pirate market where there is no justice or order… Oh and that he has a monkey which he keeps on his shoulder and bites anyone who comes near him, is notorious for stealing jewelry and makes nests with the hair of ladies that he just-” She motioned, “-plucks from their head.” Meera gave the account in as unserious and joking a tone as she could manage. “As I said, all entirely hogwash I’m sure. The Captain as I can see has no monkey on his shoulder at all.” She finished, trying not to crack up, as if the monkey were the worst of what she had just accounted.

Emerson laughed loudly at the description, though he suspected Meera’s own amusement was a facade for her anxiety. Which was reasonable, all things considered.

“He is only a little maimed for his time with the pirates, I can assure you on that account at least,” he promised. “And while the period did shape his views on justice and order, it was very much in the opposite direction, in favor of morality. As for the monkey,” Emerson said thoughtfully. “I have been described less favorably, though not often nor so creatively. But I am known to lurk over his shoulder, and to enjoy shiny things and the hair of beautiful women, so. Perhaps that part is true, if an exaggeration,” he joked with a wink.

“You are chirpy.” Cromwell noted in a neutral tone, turning a page on his book.

“That is as close to a compliment as you’ll probably hear from my Lord Blackbird.” Meera’s chuckling died down as she quickly explained, not wanting Lord Emerson to take offense to Cromwell’s particular brand of communicating.

"Your Majesty, I would never have taken it for anything less than high praise," Emerson reassured Meera, offering an exaggerated wink to the woman and her Lord Blackbird. What an interesting nickname, Emerson decided.

"Joking aside, I did find him a bit... Stiff, when we first met," Emerson allowed. "He takes his responsibilities quite seriously, and those responsibilities have only grown over time. He is a military man at heart, so his rougher edges could certainly be seen as crass in nature. Unlike mine, which are only ever seen as charming," he said in a tone of self-aware mocking. "And I suppose he is... Old fashioned, in a sense. Certainly more traditional than me, in many aspects."

Emerson felt he was doing a rather poor job of describing his friend, and wished the man in question would just do it himself. But even if Avery weren't here, Emerson would have struggled with the topic- Of course, he very much wanted Meera to like Averett, if at all possible.

Which she was not prone to do, no matter how wonderful Emerson might make him sound. Especially because Averett would certainly disappoint if Emerson made him out to be something he wasn’t. Maybe he should undersell the King, so that Meera could only be pleasantly surprised.

“My father was not unlike that.” She said before she could stop herself, too lax with the conversation and Lord Emerson’s ease of manner. She frowned when she realized what she had said, comparing the man who had slain her father with him. It was upsetting both to think about and to swallow down. It was akin to bile, something rotting in her that had to be present but never spoken about or acknowledged. Here she was sitting, having a pleasant evening and speaking with a man who was her enemy not too long ago, being delivered to another man who was certainly her enemy still by way of opinion of her court. And yet there was no use in thinking of him like that. No choice but to swallow her anger at the situation, no opportunity to seek recompense.

“A military man he was indeed. Some did not think him charming, may he be at peace, but he too took the duties of a King with the utmost… I believe that is dinner.” Cromwell spoke up, snapping his book shut. He had been listening the entire time intently and realized quickly what had happened and intervened. He was saved from having to ramble thankfully by the roasted duck.

Meera cleared her throat, forcing a smile, “Oh is it? How lovely duck has to be my favorite to tell you the truth.” She recovered.

Captain Vee brought them their dinner and complemented Theren’s soldiers, which Meera was very grateful for. There was no duty assigned to the Captain to be thoughtful to their party and yet he was. He could simply do his duty and leave it at that, but instead she had noticed that he did his best to be fair, and did not seem to hold resentment towards her men. All things considered that was perhaps more gracious of him than most people. She had no doubt that he was unscathed by the war. But perhaps he was simply a practical minded person, rather than someone rash. She had a lot of respect for that, and spent the rest of dinner wondering if the King shared that characteristic with the Captain too while Emerson swooned over the duck and declared that proper cooking should be taught to soldiers. Meera had to agree with him, especially since Theren’s footmen did not dare deploy without being armed with proper seasoning. For it is said that a man should not suffer dying in battle and a poor dinner. One or the other is acceptable, but both?

And the rest of dinner went along in this manner, Emerson joking, Captain Vee glaring when he went too far, Cromwell silent as ever and Meera playing along. Afterwards she retired early and left the men to their devices, the carriages offering a measure of solitude she found that she craved.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

It was the middle of the night when Meera startled awake, she had dozed off with a full stomach expecting to sleep all through the night. Instead she was groggily sitting up, feeling as though she had scarcely slept. It was a dream that had caused to her awaken, she could feel it, but she could not remember what the dream had been about. It was simply a silly dream and really had no right in frustrating or occupying her mind, and yet it did.


She attempted to lay down and go back to sleep but she could not get comfortable. When she traveled as a Princess her party had included many more soldiers and escorts, and an entire team dedicated to setting up a lavish tent when necessary; the inside of which was not dissimilar to the the rooms she and her ladies were used to. This much smaller traveling team was in an effort to maximize speed and provide cover, she would appear as any other noble or official would on the road. Granted, they did not have cover when she greeted her people but really, Meera felt relatively safe within Theren’s borders. She wondered briefly if she would feel the same way in Beleth, and told herself she had already decided to make the effort to see some of its people. Even if it turned out they hated her. She had still wanted to make the effort.


Meera stretched and pulled at her sore muscles, annoyed at not being able to go back to sleep. Was she so used to a plush bed that she could not make do in a carriage? There was no helping it, she would certainly not be the one to complain. It was a matter of pride as well as a desire to not appear demanding. She didn’t doubt the people here would accommodate her as best they could, but she was also keenly aware that first impressions were everything. She could send soldiers home to their wives at the end of this to complain about the new Queen, that she was a tyrant just as they had thought. The wives who would pass that information on to the merchants and the maids and the from there to the farmers and even the birds. The whole country could hate her in a matter of weeks if they didn’t already. The paranoia and weight of that gave her groggy mind a headache. Perhaps some air would do her good.


Exiting the carriage with a blanket as a shawl Meera regarded her surroundings, it was still quite dark out. The grass beneath her was haloed by moonlight and the wind blew gently, russling the leaves of the trees. She breathed deep, taking it in, her home. Theren was so beautiful to her, how was she to leave it behind? Was the grass this soft and green in Beleth, was the air so crisp and hinted with the salt of the sea? It had to be, the two countries bordered each other, they could not be so different as to alienate her senses. It was not as if she was marrying the Prince of Ruhar to the northwest, where things were frigid and unkind. Beleth was north of Theren, but it was not so north that she could barely leave the furs of her bed.


Thinking of warmth, Meera wandered over to the campfire, where she found Captain Vee stoking its embers and adding wood. “Captain, how goes it? All is well?” Meera greeted him, taking a seat near him close to the fire.



Having already completed his stationary and patrol segments of his watch, Avery was on his final and favorite part, where all he had to do was keep the fires going, have his sword available, and watch the hourglass so he knew when to wake the next men in the rotation.



It was a calm night and the man before him had done a good job of building the fire up again, so Avery had little to do and had turned to whittling. He’d fished an unusually shaped branch from the stack of firewood and broken off the segment he wanted, a bit longer than his hand and twisting in a few different directions.



It was beginning to resemble his idea for a horse in motion, with its head rearing up and to the side, though it still had two, bulky legs instead of four. It would take awhile yet, but it was soothing and repetitive, pushing his knife along the grain of the wood until it almost just met his gloved hand, and then repeating.



The wildlife chattered a bit in the distance, not so quiet to be unsettling and dangerous, nor too loud that the sound signals the men had agreed on would be missed.



There was movement from near the Queen’s carriage and Avery tensed immediately, but relaxed when he saw it was only Meera herself, and he offered her a smile as he poked at the fire to heat it up more, assuming she might be cold.



“Yes, all is well,” he agreed quietly. “Some deer, and a single rider anxious to catch up to his caravan, but otherwise the road has been empty,” he explained.



She looked tired, in a way that sleeping in even the softest bed might not cure.



“Trouble sleeping?,” he guessed, then wished he hadn’t. A stupid question, with an obvious answer, and a personal one at that.


Meera reflexively opened her mouth to answer something positive but no sound came out, she paused and then decided looking at the fire was easier than looking at the Captain. “Nervous I think. The more I say goodbye to my people the more I realize I’m leaving them. I’ve left Theren before but… I always knew I would come back to her. She is so very beautiful you know, at least to me she is.” She looked up, the moon and the stars were bright. “And now I do not think I will ever see her again.” She would be doomed to be a Queen split in two, she smiled wistfully, thinking that at least in Beleth, the stars would be the same ones that hung over Theren.


Avery frowned as she spoke- She didn’t think she would be returning to Theren? Like, by herself, or ever?



It would certainly be easier in the short term- Aunt Roysa had made clear that the logistics of holding a summer court in Delphi instead of the usual estate on the coast would be an absolute nightmare, and he had been genuinely afraid of being shouted at since before he joined the military service. But it wouldn’t fix anything in the long game.


“What-,” he started to clarify, until he was interrupted by the loud snore of a man turning over in his sleep. He didn’t think the Theren guards were a danger to him, but they would be a danger to Meera, if they distrusted the group’s commanding officer. “Well. Not even the gods can know for sure, what the future holds,” he tried instead, a weak placation but the best he could come up with.


“What about you Captain Vee, are you married yet?” She turned and asked.


“Ah,” Avery replied with a wry twist to his mouth, turning over the wood in his gloved hands to shave away from the other side. “Not yet, no. Almost was, once. But it didn’t work out in the end for either of our families. So.”


“My condolences Captain. You seem like a good sort of man, one who deserves to be happily situated.” She shifted her blanket, “It was the same for me. Until things changed.” She sympathized quietly, peering over at the figure in his hand and becoming distracted by it rather than the subject at hand.


“Yes, I had heard a little of that,” he admitted, uncomfortable. He was fairly certain the only reason her engagement with the General had ended was because he had proposed. And killed her father, so. “I am sorry it happened that way.”


“Are you an artist Captain?” A genuine smile bloomed on her features. “What is that?”


He was glad for the change in subject, and smiled back.


“Hopefully, a horse. But it may not end up that way,” he allowed. “I started carving them as gifts for my sister, when she was young. She is a bit too old for toys now,” he acknowledged. “But it has become a habit, and a good way to keep my hands busy. I have been trying to expand my range of poses,” he explained.


“That’s sweet of you.” It was truly touching, and felt keenly real of the Captain as a person. Here he was performing what was probably a thankless duty and he had a whole life, family that loved him and he loved back.


“You are… not so different Captain Vee, from your counterparts in Theren. I have long wondered why it is that the two Kingdoms could not be reconciled before given this truth. People might have different customs, but they love their family all the same. They create with their hands and want toys for their little ones, want to live and be happy. We all ride horses and enjoy roast duck.” She shrugged, shaking her head and smiling bitterly, thinking of the field that had obviously seen battle they had ridden past today. She conjured the image of it in her mind.


“I suspect you may be right,” Avery replied. He certainly hoped she was. “But it is that same love that creates fear, and hate, and the very things that drive us to fight.”


He scoffed lightly.


“I can become quite melancholic in my reflections, which I doubt you have need for, I apologize,” he told her, trying to strike a more hopeful note instead. “Perhaps you will be able to demonstrate to people, that we have more in common than not, and less to fear than we worry.”


Yes that was her duty wasn’t it? There were degrees of success that could usher in an age of peace and degrees of failure that could mean anything from her own abject misery to another war, perhaps rebellion. What if she were to be so incompetent at her new station and home that she were to split Beleth in half as well, one side loyal to the crown and the other in disgust of it? She did not wish Beleth harm, not truly, even if there were times when it enraged her and made her fearful.


“Spirits guide me that is what I hope to accomplish.” She assured him, a serious look on her face. “Or perhaps one of your gods can help me too, Beleth has many of those no?” She smirked, changing the topic out of danger of beginning to shed tears.


Meera wasn’t versed on Beleth’s gods, she was just aware that there was a variety. Theren might not have anything to do with gods but it was interesting to think about and consider. Especially since while Theren was rigid in its own practice of spirituality Beleth’s apparently was ever changing, adopting what came from abroad through their ports.


“This capital city has at least a dozen temples,” he confirmed, “And some serve more than one deity.”


He considered for a moment, prodding at the fire for something to do and watching her face as the flames illuminated it.


“There’s Bidti, goddess of changes and transitions,” he suggested. “Or Vetoc, who is looked to for his wisdom. Though I should warn you,” he said with a slight smile. “He is also the god of foolishness, and some of his priests seem to favor the second doctrine when offering advice.”


“Do they?” Meera laughed a little, thinking of old priests in robes with twinkles in their eye.


Complaining of the priests’ unhelpfulness never yielded results, as it only encouraged them to wax philosophically in whatever vein they could seize.


“And the Great Goddess Herself, of course,” he said, nodding up towards the night sky above them, where the orange sparks of the fire flickered out to ash and drifted up into the white pinpricks of the stars. “The patron of the throne, and of all Beleth. She will look out for you, too.”


“I shall be sure to pay her tribute too then…” she trailed off, wondering while admiring the night if she was responsible for painting the stars as well, and if she were what beautiful vision she had.


Lord Cromwell stepped more purposefully as he came up to the campfire from behind ‘Captain Vee’, making his presence known and interrupting their mutual admiration for the night sky. Hands clasped behind his back and regarding the two as a school teacher might he rounded to his Queen’s side. There was a reason he did not object to the Queen speaking with the Captain in a candid manner too strongly, but that didn’t mean he did not have a vested interest in keeping up appearances. Not that he did not trust the Queen, but the perception of others mattered.


“Your majesty it is late, you should rest while you can, we still have a ways ahead of us yet.” He said quietly.


Meera nodded, “I suppose you’re right Lord Blackbird.” She did not argue, as his tone did not suggest it could be protested. He always seemed like that. Not that he wasn’t right, but the way he looked at them made her feel like a little girl that had been caught doing something she should not.


Cromwell inclined his head as she brushed past him, going back to her carriage. He watched and waited till she was out of earshot to turn to the Captain and bow slightly, “Your Majesty…” And with that, walked away.

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & Lord Cromwell

Location: Theren - Megara| Interacting with: Lord Emerson & "Captain Vee"

The last two days had been fairly uneventful. The men had a better feel for each other now and moved together more easily, and even slowing when they went through the towns and villages, they were back on the original timeline. It had been nice to sleep in a bed last night, even if Avery had still insisted on being part of the watch rotation.

Emerson had taught Meera some of the more popular moves and variants for the four step dance pattern that was common in his home of Freland, but his later attempt at also providing ‘the traditional flute music’ by alternately humming and singing nonsense sounds derailed the educational purpose of the exercise. Even the innkeeper- a stern woman whose face seemed to be majority forehead and was none too pleased to be hosting a Beleth squad who were stealing her queen- had laughed, though she still glared at Emerson and the troops over breakfast while unsubtly fawning over Meera and the Theren guards.

If any of Avery’s men noticed or cared, they didn’t say anything. They’d be in Beleth soon enough, and who was served the thickest, warmest slice of raisin nut bread would hardly be the least indication that Meera and her cohort weren’t welcome.

As for Meera herself, she happily declared that this particular raisin nut bread had to be the best she’d ever had and that the nobles residing in Delphi hadn’t a clue what they were missing. Which left a very happy innkeeper indeed.

They still had at least another hour or so before they reached their destination for the night, but they were well into the foothills of the mountains by now, the ground rising steadily beneath the hooves of Avery’s mount as it walked along next to Reya. The road had begun to snake a while back, turning back and forth through the trees to manage the incline better.

“So each of the six dukes have three barons that report to them, and each of the nine barons report to two different dukes- Well, eight of them do, the exception being Merid, of course,” Emerson was telling Meera, trying to describe the rather confusing tangle of Beleth nobility. “Which angers the dukes, obviously, except even if they can all agree they want Merid to report to them, none of them agree who Merid should report to, because then two dukes would have four barons reporting to them and the other four would only have three, so-”

Avery felt… Uncomfortable. Not because of the dukes’ standoff over Merid, as that had been going on since Merid had joined the kingdom, and the debate had only increased as the Beleth nobility eyed the land in Theren and whispered about how to best divide it among themselves, each eager to come away better than their peers. He felt uncomfortable because it had been too quiet, too long, and shouldn’t the men on the scouting patrol have come back from now?

As soon as he thought that, a bird chirped to his left and took off, as if to prove he was only being paranoid. But still….

He swung off of his horse and passed the reins to the soldier who had been walking behind him, so that he could walk along next to Meera.

“Your majesty,” he said quietly enough that Emerson did not bother pausing his attempt at explaining how each duke was supposed to have oversight over a unique set of barons, but it didn’t always happen that way in practical terms-

“Hmmm?” Meera glanced at him, quite enthralled by the rundown of Belethen nobility and already think of ways to handle Merid. Perhaps as a reward to the duke who was quickest and most sincere to ally himself with her reign as Queen...

“I think you should get in the carriage,” he told her.

“What? I’m speaking to Lord Emerson right now Captain this is a little more important information than dancing though the dancing was fun wasn’t it?” She turned to Emerson, looking for backup. “Charmed the innkeeper didn’t you?” She laughed.

“It’s my dulcet singing voice,” Emerson agreed, though Avery might choose other words to describe the sound Emerson was generously referring to as ‘singing’. “No one can resist!”

Emerson’s smile dropped a bit though when he looked down at Avery’s furrowed brow, though, and did his own quick assessment of their environment- The graying sky, the quiet woods. The men riding on the front and back of the carriage had had arrows and bolts in easy reach for their respective weapons ever since the path had started turning, but at Avery’s signal they were scanning the forest for any movement, ready to pull their weapons into firing position at a moment’s notice.

Though Meera felt no change in the environment and took no notice of the signs the trained men around her felt. She did take notice of the sudden tension felt by the people around her. She glanced at the Captain and looked around. The smile on her face froze, and then fell in confusion as she turned to Lord Emerson. Was something happening?

“I assure you, I shall have no difficulties complaining about my betters from within the carriage,” he told Meera. “It will ease the Captain’s worries, and keep us both dry if those clouds gathering above us think to drop their wetness down on our path,” he said, reframing a stint in the carriage as a comfort rather than a confinement.

“Well, if you insi- !” Meera began.

It was not rain that fell on them in the next moment, though, but arrows- Avery heard them before he saw them, his ears trained from months on the battlefields, and grabbed Reya’s bridle to halt her next few steps. The space where Meera would have been in the next moment was empty when the several arrows aimed at her flew through, startling Reya who was held steady by Avery’s hand, but that hardly meant the danger was past.

“Ambush!,” Avery bellowed loudly, in case anyone in the party had failed to notice. There were men on foot and horseback pouring down on the either side of the path from the hills in front of them- Too many to easily count, though the trees obscuring them might have made them seem more than they were.

To Meera certainly they seemed like a horde, she stared wide-eyed at them, too frozen by the sight to know what to do. Her tension and panic fueled Reya’s, who stomped and huffed under her, ears drawn down.

They had been probably hoping to wait a bit longer until at least half the party had rounded to corner, but had seen that the soldiers were growing wary and more alert, and seized their chance while they still thought they would have the advantage.

They were perhaps a bit uncoordinated in the precise timing of their attack, but no less unprepared and certainly not not lacking in enthusiasm. There were a few shouts of what might have been ‘Death to the queen’, but Avery was sure he heard even less kind words as well.

“Second position,” Avery shouted, in reference to the drills they had practiced and taught to the Theren soldiers- It had particulars, of course, but the basic concept was ‘defend the queen at all costs’.

Avery had drawn his own sword at some point in the chaos, and was swinging it dangerously at any attacker who might get too close before the men could circle up around Meera. He saw one of their men at the back of the party fall from his horse with a spear through his chest, but he didn’t dwell on it- There was nothing he could do for the man now, or any of the others beyond his reach.

“Tighten up!” Barked Cromwell’s order, the men closing in on the gap their felled comrade left. He loosed an arrow in the eye of one of the front runners, another into the head of an armored man’s horse. Satisfyingly the horse flipped over onto him, not even his armor would save him from that crushing weight. And within moments the full brunt of the attack was on them.

The men fell into position easily enough, and if Avery had been watching externally, he would have been pleased to see they worked together not quite seamlessly, but with little trouble. As it was, he was keeping two separate men at the length of his sword, until one found an arrow in his eye and staggered back in pain, and Avery seized the distraction to gain the advantage.

Cromwell’s title was not just for show, it seemed, which was good- He had seemed to have a decent understanding of tactics and good authority with his men, but there were plenty of nobles who could say the same and didn’t have half the good aim Cromwell seemed to.

Meera found herself flattening into Reya’s back, as if doing so would make her less conspicuous, less of a target. The dull drum of numb fear soon gave way to adrenaline induced panic. She didn’t know what to do, she felt helpless. What was it that her swordmaster had said? ‘It is all fun and games until you must use what I teach you to defend your life.’ She should have listened to him better, practiced more, she should’ve carried a blade. A blade! She reached into her boot and yanked out the dagger the Captain had made her carry. It was only a dagger, but it was something.

Dancing, she had treated her lessons like dancing. This was no dancing, a man was dead behind her with a spear in his chest, another screamed, his voice gurgling as though he were choking on something. Her mouth opened in horror and helplessness, unable to do anything about it, that man had been kind to her.

An arrow whizzed past her shoulder, almost toppling her over. Warm liquid began to ooze down her arm and she realized that the reason she almost fell was because it had actually hit her. Reya screamed, or did she? No it was Reya, she screamed and bucked up, taking off at a full gallop in hopes of escaping the chaos and taking Meera with her.

The soldier on the other side of Meera fell to another onslaught of arrows, and the gap he created was open wide enough and long enough that a horse might slip in- Or out.

“Reya stop! Stop! Halt!” Meera yelled, hoarse, pulling on the reigns and wincing at the sharp pang on her right shoulder. She looked back to check on it, grabbing it in hopes to stop the pang and found that now she was being pursued. They weren’t her men.

She stopped trying to slow Reya down and instead kicked her heels in, urging her on. Stopping or slowing down now surely meant death.

Avery let out an uncreative curse as Meera and her horse disappeared into the trees, made all the more genuine because several of their attackers were in pursuit of her.

And he was pretty sure she’d been hit.

“You and you,” he shouted at two of the Theren men who’d been on the last scouting patrol and hopefully knew the area best, and pointed in opposite directions, where a select few of the attackers riders had gone. “They may mean to cut her off- Catch them first,” he instructed, grabbing at the reins of a now riderless horse. One of their attackers, but it would serve him fine.

He mounted the beast, and took an offered crossbow from the outreached hands of one of his men.

Cromwell shot a mountless man in the neck who charged the Captain loudly, as if to punish him for interrupting him hearing orders.

“Two more follow me,” he shouted over the still-continuing battle, unsure if they would be able to immediately but trusting they would do what they could. “Cromwell has the charge,” he ordered loudly, “Show no mercy, but try to keep one alive,” he shouted over his shoulder as he spurred the horse onward.

“Hear hear!” Cromwell barked, military code for acknowledging that he’d heard loud and clear and also a call to attention for the men around him. “Formation C. Blockade them off and provide cover fire for the Captain. MOVE.” He bellowed, the authority in his voice snapping the men into their training. He fired arrow after arrow along the line as they all formed a half moon against the direction the Captain was headed. The men, despite being in the middle of battle, quite nearly moved as one. As Cromwell expected from Theren and Beleth’s best.

“Hold them, I want a prisoner!” He declared ferociously, reminding them that they had to keep at least one alive. But that didn’t mean they were going to show mercy. Moving back down the line and taking his own position he fired off his last arrow, taking out another man with precision. Looking forward and calling for more arrows he neglected his back.

Emerson had previously been watching for any close attacks on the men firing from the carriage, but he leapt back down to the ground and tackled a man who had been trying to edge up behind Cromwell, burying his fists into the assailant’s face with gusto.

Surprised, Cromwell looked back at the commotion behind him and smirked facing forward, “Lord Emerson has our prisoner kill the rest.” He commanded as he took aim.

Reya sped on, wind ripping past Meera’s ears. She may not be a war horse, but Reya had been chosen for two particular and important reasons. The first was that she was a very beautiful horse, and the second, was that she was fast.

Avery was grateful to have taken one of their attacker’s horses- It had been waiting in the woods most of the day instead of carrying a rider, and he knew it was much faster than the one he’d been using earlier would have been. But the men pursuing Meera had horses just as fresh as his, and he could tell the distance she’d put between them, though great, wouldn’t last.

One of them had a crossbow of his own, and was aiming it at Reya’s retreating back, so Avery did similarly. He was not in the habit of firing while riding but at least the dense trees limited the paths the horses could take and he was directly behind his target- The horse and its rider fell with a crash, though the twisting path meant Avery had lost sight of Meera and Reya.

The mare struggled with the turns, now in control by Meera but unable to turn as neatly while going as fast as she was going. The surge of adrenaline that had overcome them both was waning, though the danger was still very present. Reya huffed hard, and Meera’s breathing matched, they couldn’t keep this up, they had been riding all day.

Reya audibly protested as she nearly ran into a tree, sidelining it instead with her hindquarters. It caused a stumble but Meera yanked her head up and steady, “We can’t stop now girl, we can’t!” She cried out.

Recovery fatalistically lost them the precious headway they had gained thanks to Reya’s natural speed. In what Meera thought was a miracle the trees opened up into an open field, and hoping to use Reya’s speed again she tried to kick her into a gallop. She galloped, but it was not fast enough, not anymore. Meera felt it, she was slower. Fear and guilt spiked through her, Reya was in pain and exhausted when they could not afford to be.

“Death to the bloody Queen!” Came a shout that was far too close behind them, she looked back just the man swung his broadsword downward, lodging it into Reya’s left thigh. Meera did not even have time to scream, but she did have the wherewithal to shove off of Reya to the right. That was what you were supposed to do when you fell off of a horse, shove away, so that you do not get crushed. They had taught her to fall before they’d taught her to ride. The response was automatic and the realization that she would probably not live out the day without Reya came somewhere in between flying off and hitting the ground in a roll.

She was surprised at herself for being able to get up, and though slightly dazed she had not broken anything from the fall. Things were rushing again, a second strike of adrenaline. Her second realization was that more than one man was now in the open field, but so were her own soldiers, two of them, holding them off from reaching her but unable to get to her, which was both lucky and a problem.

It was her own dumb luck that the man that had gained on her hadn’t been quick enough to stop his own steed becoming tangled with Reya, his horse was down as well. He had gone down harder than she had.

Her dagger, where was her dagger? He was getting up. Her dagger must have flown out of her hand somewhere when she fell.

The man cursed and threw his helmet off, hearing it before seeing it. The Queen, in lieu of finding her dagger, had decided instead to draw the spare shortsword from its place on his mount’s saddle. She stood in between him and his broadsword lodged in the crying mare’s thigh.

“You don’t know how to use that, stop kidding yourself and I promise I’ll make it quick… your majesty.” He growled that last part, trying to intimidate her.

“You must not know Theren women then.” Meera’s voice was braver than she had thought it would be.

His response was to spit on Reya.

Meera yelled and swung at his shoulder. He dodged and drew his dagger.

Avery reached the clearing in time to see the Queen and her horse go down, and he dug his heels into his own steed, though he could hardly tell if it had much effect on their already reckless speed.

She’d taken his sword from him, which he applauded- She looked a bit unsure of its weight, but at least now her attacker did not have access to it. But she wasn’t backing up and putting distance between them the way he would have liked, and he wanted to shout at her to move, even if it would sound just like a wordless shout at this distance-

And then she attacked him, of all foolish things, but he was clearly more comfortable with his weapon and Avery wasn’t going to reach them in time, he’d be just a few seconds too late-

He didn’t think he had another bolt for the crossbow and even if he did, he knew he couldn’t load it in time as the man brought his dagger up, and what was even the point of Avery being here if he still couldn’t save her, from a dozen paces away-

“Meera, duck,” he yelled, and heaved the crossbow with all his might at her attacker.

It arrived only moments before he did, hitting the man in the side. Not exactly a fatal blow, but it had served its purpose of distraction, and Avery slid off his horse as it went by and wrestled the man to the ground, his own dagger already in his hand.

Meera leapt away from them, the tip of the shortsword dropping to the ground as she let it fall loosely in her hold. It was the Captain, she was saved after all. Today would not be the day she joined her ancestors in eternity.

They wrestled in the grass for a minute, each failing to get the upper hand at first.

“Who paid you,” Avery demanded in a snarl, and the man grinned, bloody and near defeat as he was.

“It is a honor to defend my country,” the man returned and he pried his hand out of Avery’s- Even pinned to the ground, he was trying to throw his blade in Meera’s direction, one last effort to take her life before his own ended.

Meera watched him from a distance in mixed parts of fascination and horror. Not moving out of his aim as perhaps she should.

He didn’t get the chance- Avery saw the movement, and neatly slit his throat before he could lift his wrist any further. Both the man and the knife fell to the ground without further struggle.

Avery turned towards the Queen as he stood, trying to tuck his hair back behind his ears as he did so, but probably just smearing more blood across his face. It might have been his from the cuts he’d gotten in the woods, or belonged to the man on the ground.

He kept one hand on the hilt of his sword, but held the other out in a placating gesture, his eyes scanning for any threats. On opposite ends of the field men were still fighting, but they would know if any of the ambushers came at them.

“Meera- Your majesty,” he corrected, raising his free hand to touch his own shoulder where hers seemed to be particularly bloody. “I think you may be hurt- May I see?”

She might have hit her head too in that fall, but for now he at least needed her to realize she wasn’t in danger in any longer. Or, immediate danger.

Meera stared at the still bleeding man, red pouring from his throat. She couldn’t look away. Some part of her heard the Captain but she didn’t really absorb what he said.

He was touching his arm, but he didn’t look injured, ah, she looked at her own. Shocked at examining for the first time how it really looked, and starting to really feel it too.

She dropped the sword in her hand and clutched it, wincing at the pressure. Without any protest or hesitation she walked to his outstretched arm, glancing behind her to see that there was still fighting but that it was ending, their men victorious. Her eyes grazed over poor Reya next, who had gone quiet as she reached her savior. “Oh Reya. What can be done for her.” Her voice sounded strange and slurred to her, everything was slowing down, an unfamiliar numbness washing over her. Somewhere she knew what would happen to her, knew that there was nothing that could save her faithful mare.

Avery tugged at the clasp on his overcoat and pulled it from his own frame, reaching around her back to rest it firmly over her good shoulder but only place it gently on the side with the injured arm.

“I’m not sure,” he told her honestly, using his arm draped across her shoulder to subtly steer her away from the sight of the dead man and her struggling horse. Probably very little could be done. “I will check on her in a minute and let you know, but I’d like you to sit down now- Do you think you can do that?”

Meera allowed herself to be steered and did as she was told, too drained and in shock from coming down from a high to really do much else. And besides, it was over now. The Captain was there and she felt safe with him.

Avery unwrapped the black sash he had been wearing around his waist quickly as he knelt down next to her, wadding it up into a pad. “Here,” he said, taking off his left glove and pulling it on over her smaller fingers and placing the bundle of cloth in it, before bringing her hand up to her injured arm. “I want you to press down on the wound, very firmly, all right? Try to stem the bleeding,” he instructed.

She nodded and pressed down, the pain was impossible to ignore now, it felt as though it were pulsing. She wondered, her thoughts dulled, if this was how Reya felt.

He looked over at Reya with little hope. The mare’s breathing was labored, and he could tell the sword was lodged deep in her flesh. It had severed crucial muscles- Even if they could somehow remove the blade and treat her, she would be unable to stand.

“I’m so sorry, Meera,” he said as gently as he could manage. “The only thing we can do for her is end her suffering.”

“She saved me…” Meera said, as if that could somehow cure the situation, as if it’d help if the Captain could only understand how precious Reya was. How she was the finest mare in all of Theren, how she’d been given to her as a gift from her father and if she had to lose Reya she would lose him all over again while having her home ripped from her. She wanted to explain all of that to him, but the words fell dead on her lips.

“I don’t want her to be in pain.” She declared, nodding to him.

“Of course,” Avery said solemnly. “I’ll take care of it.”

Grace had found a kitten once, that had been trampled by a horse on accident, and she had brought it to Avery with tears magnifying her brown eyes. He’d felt like a monster, telling her the truth, but he hadn’t wanted to lie to her either. At least it had died quickly, warm in Grace’s shawl, and Avery had had to do very little to ease its passing. But he felt the same, now, bloodying his hands and calling it a mercy.

He blocked his actions with his torso, so that even if Meera did turn to watch, she wouldn’t be able to see the blow itself, and he stroked his bare hand down the side of Reya’s face. Once, twice, and then a third time even after she could not feel it.

“It’s done,” he announced after a moment, setting the knife aside and making sure there was no blood on his glove before he reentered her field of vision.

Avery crouched back down in front of Meera and lifted her chin with one hand, passing the pointed finger of his other hand in front of her face a few times to make sure she was tracking it with her eyes.

If she had hurt her head in the fall, it was not in a way he could easily identify.

He turned the wad of fabric over in her hand so that the drier side faced the wound- The side that had been soaking up blood was wet enough it could have been wrung out red, but hopefully she wouldn't feel the damp beneath the leather glove.

"Good, you're doing very well," he encouraged her. "The bleeding is already slowing down a bit, keep up that pressure."

He unbuttoned his vest and ripped it down the back seam, and then began to tear it into strips. It was nice enough to have an interior lining in lighter color, but not so nice that he didn't have several similar ones at Redhill. Or he had, at least- It was likely they may have been forced out of his wardrobe by the recent influx of more elegant pieces.

He removed the waterskin from his waist and poured a bit of water onto one of the cloth strips.

"I'm going to clean up your face a bit while we wait for the bleeding from your arm to stop, all right," he told her, gently wiping away the streaks of dirt, blood, and tears on her cheeks. It all looked shallow enough. "How are you feeling- Any pain beyond the arm?"

Meera cleared her throat, trying to blink away the feeling of breaking down into tears. The Captain was so gentle. She had to stop, this wasn’t the place, she was a Queen. The Captain wasn’t supposed to be dealing with a crying Queen. She mustered the same effort she exerted upon being told her father was dead and that the war was lost.

“Nothing that can be helped beyond that Captain. You came just in time.” She answered honestly, her voice trying not to crack, trying to say something positive, trying to smile. It wasn’t really working very well. She ached in body, but it was her mind and heart that had taken the biggest blows. She glanced at her arm and looked away, surprised.

“That is a lot…” Meera noted.


‘Just in time’ was a funny way of saying ‘late’, Avery thought wryly- He should have been sooner. He shouldn’t have allowed it to happen at all.

“That’s a natural reaction to have,” Avery assured her. “Your body prefers your blood inside of it, so it’s only reasonable for your brain to feel some alarm at seeing it outside- But you haven’t lost too much, I don’t think. And it seems to be slowing.”

He was glad he had thought to give her his glove, to prevent her from getting any of her blood on her clean hand. He knew all too well how it could stain beneath your fingernails and catch you by surprise hours, and even days later, once you were supposed to be safe.

He removed the wad of cloth pressed to the wound, and began to gently wipe the area with a clean, damp strip of linen. It was still bleeding some, but not as greatly, and slowly enough that he could inspect the area after rinsing it and see there was no arrow tip embedded still.

Meera did her best to hold back her wincing and vocal protests at having her wound being touched, but knew he was doing what was necessary. That didn’t stop her grimacing in pain though. If there was one good thing about this it was that the pain in her arm was a good distraction to numb her emotions with.

“Please don’t hold back tears on my account,” he said after a few minutes as he began to tightly bandage her arm, looking studiously not at her pained face. “I have shed more than my fair share, and been quite theatrical about far less battle wounds,” he confided.

“You? No I don’t believe you Captain.” She half smiled, already successful at burying her tears for now, aware that they’d eventually come later, when she was alone, when she was finally allowed.

“Sobbed for an hour nearly, when this sore got lanced,” he said with a slight smile, showing her a patch of discolored skin on the inside of his left wrist. “Even Emerson told me to stop being so dramatic about it.”

She smiled crookedly, “...Queens aren’t supposed to cry Captain, not unless it is in an elegant manner and timed precisely. I know you don’t understand that. But it’s the truth.” She felt she could tell him this, could be honest about this with him. It was probably her exhaustion, but likely something else too. She cleared her throat again, feeling it tighten.

Avery didn’t press the matter, and signaled to the other men in the clearing to come over. They did so, bringing their own saddled horses as well as two more they had captured from their attackers. The bodies of the dead men were thrown across the back of one of the mares, and Avery made a series of angry facial expressions until one of the soldiers took off his own overcloak and draped it across the corpses before they came into Meera’s view.

The final horse had a simple unmolded saddle, and Avery made sure his cloak was fastened securely around Meera’s shoulders before helping her up into the stirrups. Once she was settled, he climbed up behind her and reached around her to take the reins.

“It’s not a long distance back to the road,” he told her, “But we won’t go too fast, I don’t want to jostle your shoulder. Try to relax it against mine,” he advised, so that he could absorb the impact of any harsh steps the horse took.

Meera let her back sink into the Captain’s embrace, she fit nicely there and made no attempt to direct the reigns or be willful. He was comfortable to lean against. What’s more she was much too forlorn now for any kind of struggle, and grateful somehow, and still afraid, anxious, all of it at once. She took one last look at Reya, her beautiful mangled steed, as they left her behind, to return to the earth in the same way they all must one day. She wondered how she would look laying next to her had the Captain not gotten to her on time.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Cromwell

Location: Theren - Megara| Interacting with: Lord Emerson

‘Victory of the crown!’ Soldiers bellowed, they had felled their last opponent, who had not turned and retreated. Say what you will about these traitors to the crown but there were not cowards who intended to turn tale and run, they fought to the last. Cromwell could respect that, not that it did them any favors in the end.

“Victory of the crown.” He agreed, his voice booming and prideful. “You four, follow that way and find your Queen.” He pointed to the mounted men and sent them off. He wasn’t particularly worried about his charge, especially since she was in the hands of an individual who had every earnest reason to ensure her survival. Especially with how well they seemed to be getting along, if this trip was any indication. He seriously doubted the warrior King would do anything less than defend his pretty young bride with every ounce of his might. Men’s convictions were so often stirred best when pretty young maidens were on the line.

Cromwell slid down from Merchant’s saddle, and begun to stalk around the scene, bodies strewn out in the last vestiges of daylight, hands behind his back as he silently observed.

“Stop. Do. Not. Touch. Anything. Not until I am finished. Retrieve our dead tend to wounds and rest, that is all.” Cromwell halted the Belethen soldiers that had begun to move bodies out of the road, the ones he chose from Theren knew better than to touch a ‘scene’ that Cromwell must piece together. When he had chosen the sigil of his lordship it was said he had chosen aptly, he appeared to have eyes everywhere, seeing what others missed and finding trails where often there was thought to be none. He latched his talons into details and heard whispers all around the kingdom. It was the work of a crow, a crow and his many eyed flock.

His methods were creative and thorough, much to the chagrin of many, but there was nothing supernatural about what he did, despite what people said about him. He was just aware of how to retain loyal spies and knew things about common life that nobles did not. His experience in multiple levels of society combined with his keen mind offered a layered perspective. That was all.

He found what he was looking for and bent down, beginning to undo clasps in the man’s armor. There was a man who appeared to be dressed differently than the rest, his sword much more expensive looking than any of the others around him. His attire didn’t necessarily give him away, but his weaponry definitely did. Who else but a leader could afford pretty blades? A dagger with a gold hilt, he put that to the side. Inspecting the breastplate he turned it over, looking for any distinctive marks, an imprint a blacksmith would sear into the inside corners of their work. He traced over what he found with his finger, committing it to memory. He placed that to the side and continued to inspect the dead man, even going so far as to rip open his shirt to look for any tattoos or brands, nothing.

“You there, come here.” He called, gathering the sword, dagger and breastplate, “Take this and follow me, there’s more to gather.” Cromwell began doing much the same to every other fallen man there, they were markless and did not carry any direct indication of who they were loyal to thus far. However, their armor was made by one smithy from what he could tell, their leader’s weapons were distinctive as well. It wasn’t as much as Cromwell would’ve liked to have, but it was something to go on. He wanted as many of his questions answered as he could before he began interrogating their prisoner.

“I have questions, put that evidence to the side and bring me Lord Emerson.” He nodded to the soldier and continued inspecting the dead, willing the body to tell him its secrets.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

One of the older soldiers- the squad leader who Meera had initially taken to be in charge- frowned at Cromwell’s orders. This was a public road, and they could not just leave bodies strewn about it.


Additionally… It was one thing to take orders from Cromwell in a fight, when haste and urgency was needed, and the King had said they should. But there was no more threat of immediate danger, and some of the soldiers from Beleth looked hesitantly at the squad leader and at Emerson, since Avery had yet to return.


“Do as he says,” Emerson agreed, not looking up from where he was binding the hands of the unconscious prisoner. It was not exactly an order, but an allowance that Emerson would face the King’s anger in their stead if anything were to go wrong. One of the younger soldiers, the one with the cooking skills that Emerson had praised, was already following Cromwell around to help carry the evidence, and the rest stepped back from their attempts to clear the bodies.


Their captive had a somewhat lined and weathered face- not nobility, it seemed- but beneath his thin gloves his hands were not gnarled, and his his fingernails much cleaner than those of some of the bodies on the road. Hopefully, he could tell them something.


Emerson pointed to some of the soldiers milling about, two pairs. “Up the hill, then- See if they left anything from where they rode down and bring it back if they did,” he instructed, not envying a climb up the steep slopes. “Anything set up, though- Tents or a cookfire, anything to suggest they had been waiting there more than a few hours, leave it as it is and report back on it, all right?”


The men nodded and departed quickly. If they were anxious about the absence of their Captain and their future Queen, they did a good job hiding it.


Once the squad leader had helped Emerson lift the captive into one of the carts and secure him further with leather straps to the metal loops in the cart intended to harness heavy trunks, Emerson climbed further into the bed of the cart and retrieved a small wooden chest, to which he carried the key around his neck. It wasn’t the only source of coin they carried with them, but it was the most accessible at the moment.


One of the men on horseback returned suddenly, sent back by his fellows to carry news. “The Queen is safe- She, the Captain, and two others survived. They should be back soon,” he reported, announcing it loudly enough that all could hear- And so he did not have to choose if he directed the information to Cromwell or Emerson.


“Em- Lord Emerson,” the young cook/soldier corrected himself, having crossed the scene of the ambush on Cromwell’s request and loading the evidence onto the cart. “Lord Cromwell wishes to speak with you,” he said, motioning behind him with his head. Emerson nodded, as if this were expected, and gave a small bag of coins to the squad leader.


“Ride on to the nearest town and- Well. You know the drill,” he said with a sigh. They would need another cart for the bodies, and shovels. The squad leader nodded, and mounted a horse and departed.


“Make sure the interior of the carriage is… clean, would you,” he prompted the cook as he left, and the younger man nodded in understanding.


“Lord Cromwell? You wanted a word?,” Emerson called out as he neared the other man. He seemed to realize that some of his hair had fallen into his face, and he grimaced as he pushed back a bright orange curl that was sticking to his forehead beneath a splash of dark red. “How can I be of assistance?”

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Cromwell

Location: Theren - Megara| Interacting with: Lord Emerson

Cromwell’s ears pricked as he heard the news of his Queen, that was good, expected but good to hear all the same. He gave no indication that he heard however, busy inspecting pockets and tossing ineffectual things to the side.

“... They wear no sigil of whom they serve, no marks either on their clothing or person. The clothing they’re wearing do you recognize that it’s distinctive? Anything that might place them as from a certain region?” Cromwell asked, getting up and moving to the next man, unbothered by the carnage and focused on his task. “Their clothing is thicker than yours or the men…” He noted, rummaging in the dead man’s vest and finding a letter, how interesting.

“I suspect they may have taken measures to be anonymous,” Emerson guessed. Even if they had succeeded in their goal- death to the bloody queen- they could not have hoped to kill all of the guard and suffer no casualties themselves. “If they did have something as obvious as a sigil, it would likely be to frame someone else for their deeds.”

He paused, considering.

“The one fellow- He referred to Her Majesty as ‘the bloody queen’,” Emerson noted. “The nobles of Beleth have other… creative monikers, that they prefer using. She is not generally considered a ‘queen’ in her own right, since her mother is alive and she is not yet wed to a king.”

It was a small detail, and really only indicated that the man who’d shouted wasn’t a noble or from the capital city, not that he wasn’t acting on the orders of someone who might be.

“Mm.” Was Crowell’s only response, the information was more interesting in the context of the sociability of the court, rather than the matter at hand. But he would file it under things that could possibly indicate region.

He opened the letter, its seal broken but perhaps decipherable if he was careful with it, he opened it gingerly and studied its contents, it appeared to be a love letter, written prettily and signed by a woman with her full name. Now there was something.

He huffed, amused, “Words of love my Lord Emerson, it appears that will be their undoing.” he folded the letter back, placing the wax carefully together, a tree in bloom. Hopefully the writer of this letter lived within the vicinity of the lord this dead man used to serve. He could scarcely imagine a noble lady writing to a soldier but stranger attachments had happened, she could also be an educated merchant’s daughter or some such. Whomever she was, the stupidity of she and her lover was much appreciated.

“How… fortunate for us,” Emerson allowed, though he wasn’t as optimistic about the letter as Cromwell. “We shall have to look it over carefully, then.” He suspected it may not be a love letter at all, but a set of coded instructions disguised as romantic prose. He would have to get a copy of it to Roysa and the spymaster. Well, maybe just Roysa. The current spymaster was perhaps not long for this world, if Lady Roysa had her way.

“Ah, your book- Found it over there,” he said with a gesture behind him. “I’m afraid it suffered a bit in the dirt- You may have to find another way to entertain yourself.”

Cromwell tucked the letter into his own pocket, deciding to keep his thoughts on the other traceable items to himself, not that he was necessarily hiding them, but the only people who really needed to know everything comprised of himself, his Queen, and his majesty the King of Beleth. It was perhaps only his amusement really that persuaded him to share the letter’s contents with Lord Emerson.

“I manage to arrange amusement when I require it, one way or another.” He said casually, sighing, looking the pages over, it wasn’t so bad, pages a bit damp, probably stained with blood in some parts. That wouldn’t stop him really. It wasn’t ripped up or anything, he had tossed it closed when he had to trade the book for bow. As much as he hated when people carelessly damaged reading material and preferred treating books with respect, books were replaceable, lives and limbs were not.

“How many men did we lose?” He inquired, folding his arms behind his back as he slowly began to walk towards a felled horse, it was dead, but the twitching underneath it indicated that perhaps it was on top of a person that was not. He bent over and yanked an arrow out of the ground as he circled around.

“Three, I think,” Emerson reported perfunctorily. “And we may have to lose some as guards for the time being, so that they may live to fight again in the future,” he added. There were a few bad wounds already being tended to- Survivable, Emerson hoped, provided the wounded men stayed at the next town and recovered instead of completing the journey as planned.

“Did you send men to find the encampment?” Cromwell noticed men sent over the hill, but didn’t pay them much heed. Any trace of a camp was probably not going to yield anything useful, had they been successful these men would have needed to make a fast retreat, no stopping to pack up. This was a suicidal mission to begin with. He nudged the man, who was staring at nothing, he gurgled, not dead but not able to speak either. Cromwell tossed the arrow to the side and kneeled down, taking his jaw and head carefully in his hands.

“Two up each side of the hill,” Emerson confirmed, hardly acknowledging the scene in front of him.. “I doubt they’ll find much, but it would be foolish not to check.”

“Indeed.” Cromwell agreed before snapping the man’s neck, and while the motion and sickening crack had been brutal, it was meant in small mercy. A snapped neck was much quicker than bleeding out or choking on your own fluids.

“I sent another man up ahead, to ride on to the nearest town with news of what has happened,” Emerson added. “He’ll bring back a doctor if they have one, and help to bury the dead. There’s an inn I believe, so with any luck there will be a hot meal for Her Highness by the time we arrive.”

Hmmm, he would have preferred to control the narrative, but Cromwell supposed it couldn’t be helped. He began rummaging into the horse’s saddle, supplies, they traveled light, very light. Perhaps whomever they were looking for was one of the lords of the border, that’d certainly explain the animosity but Cromwell didn’t want to assume.

“I only have these few men left, cleanup may commence.” He gestured to a section off to the side, around only several men, of whom he expected to essentially come up empty.

“Before I forget.” He paused, thinking. “The Queen, she’s not accustomed to this, perhaps your charms can better sooth her mind than mine. Safely inside the carriage of course.” He didn’t anticipate convincing her to stay shut in would be a problem anymore, but they could not show up to Beleth with a miserable and palid Queen. She was emotional, and that played to her advantage as much as it did to her detriment. Besides, he recalled how he’d hurled his stomach’s contents the first time he tasted battle, he was younger than she, but not nearly as spoiled.

Emerson nodded agreeably.

“I doubt Vee will even consider she might ride anywhere but inside the carriage,” he said with a snort. And likely men with loaded crossbows sitting on top. “But yes, I shall do what I can to make it less miserable,” he said.

Cromwell glanced up, about to say something when he saw them arriving, speak of them and they shall appear as the saying goes.

“She’s injured.” He frowned, clearly displeased. Tossing whatever he was holding to the side, Cromwell straightening up and made his way over to them. Abandoning his current task and conversation.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

“Yes,” Avery confirmed Lord Cromwell’s fears, sliding down from the horse but keeping his hand on the small of Meera’s back to steady her. “They nearly landed a shot, along her arm- I cleaned and wrapped it best I could for the time being, but she lost enough blood that she may be quite weak for the rest of the day.”


“Meera, I’m going to help you down now,” he told her softly, making sure she hadn’t spaced out too much on the quiet ride back to the road. He checked his cloak was wrapped tightly around her, and then as if to emphasize what he had just said a moment earlier, he pulled her off of the horse and into his arms so that her uninjured side faced away from him.


Meera found that her head had indeed become light, emphasized from the dizziness of being taken from the saddle. Her breath quickened and she held onto the Captain as best she could with her injured arm. Braving the sting if it meant feeling his steadiness. Whether to attribute that truly from the blood loss or the shock of events transpired she did not know. She found herself grateful at being held, sure now that she likely would not have been able to dismount and walk on her own.


“Someone get the door,” he prompted brusquely, nodding towards the carriage as he carried Meera across the scene of the battle, trying to shield her from the chaos as best he could. “And a fresh waterskin, she needs to have something to drink. Cromwell? I expect a report of what has happened, but it can wait if need be.”


He had enough trust in both Emerson and Cromwell’s judgement of the immediate concerns- If something couldn’t wait to be tended to, he didn’t want them wasting time explaining it to him when he would likely just approve whatever action they wished to take.


“I am almost done inspecting their personal effects, after which I will be better informed to interrogate the prisoner. The report forthcoming.” Cromwell spun around sharply and opened the carriage, a Theren soldier came with the waterskin and handed it to Cromwell. The soldier peered anxiously and looked to him, he nodded, letting him know she would be alright. She was wrapped up and pale and silent, it was unnerving to those who knew her for the lively Queen she was.


“Send someone ahead to the nearest town to fetch a doctor and-”


“Already done,” Emerson interrupted. They had been through ambushes together already, more times than they would have liked.


“Good, good,” Avery nodded absently.


“Water.” Cromwell handed the skin over to the Captain.


“No. No.” Meera started shoving hands away from her and shaking her head, oh spirits, the smell, the horrid smell. The sight of bodies that she tried to not look at but couldn’t avoid was awful, but it was the smell of them that was doing her in. The tang of copper so thick she could taste it was making her gag. She sprang out of the carriage and was caught by the arms of someone from falling out of it, swung around to the side in time to heave out her breakfast and lunch.


Cromwell had one arm hooked under her waist, and the other swept her hair out of the way. He had done this more than once under various circumstances, though right now his mind went back to the time when someone held him while he heaved as a young boy soldier.


The Theren soldier standing by handed Cromwell a Handkerchief.


“Thank you, a hair tie as well.” Cromwell was practically holding Meera up now, her legs were shaking as she was sat down at the entryway of the carriage, wiping away at her mouth while Cromwell quickly braided her hair out of the way of her face, his long practiced fingers making quick work of her curls.


“I - I’m so sorry I…” Meera began, embarrassed as well as exhausted now.


“There is no need to apologize,” Avery told her, a bit relieved that she had Cromwell to care for her now. He seemed far more certain of what to do. “If anything, we must apologize to you- Both for allowing this to happen, and for exposing you to such sights.”


The last bit was said pointedly, and he gave a significant look at some of the soldiers near him. A few looked like they might protest- they had only been following Cromwell’s orders- but thought better of it, and jumped into action to move the bodies Cromwell had already inspected far away from Meera and the carriage.


If anything this just served to embarrass Meera further, she was vaguely aware the words were meant in kindness but in her current state she only took them as as a nod to her delicacy. Her weakness in character. She sent men to die for her but could not stand the sight of it. Her father would never do such a thing. It also served to remind her why this was all happening. Beleth hated her. And how much they hated her was now painted very clear in sticky red.


Cromwell tied her braid off and helped her inside the carriage, giving her the flask and telling her to only drink slowly when she was settled.


Emerson stepped up and briefed Avery on what he knew- How many men they had lost, how many he had dispatched up the hill. Provided the men on the hill found as little as expected, they’d split the company once they returned. The larger portion would accompany the Queen and the wounded to the next town, and the smaller would chase down the loose horses and wait for the squad leader to arrive with help to bury the dead.

Afterward’s Cromwell explained he was gathering evidence from the bodies again and would let him know when he was finished, and that the men couldn’t touch what he had yet to inspect. His subtle way of letting his majesty know it was because of him cleanup had been halted. With this, the sun went down upon the bloody scene, enveloping the dead in darkness.

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & Lord Cromwell

Location: Beleth - Inn on the border| Interacting with: "Captain Vee" & Lord Cromwell

Cromwell’s methods of interrogation were not often violent, he found he didn’t need to resort to such things when he could easily manipulate, lie, and cheat the truth out of people. It helped a great deal that those facing him were often not as educated as he was, but he was never one to dwell on feeling guilty about advantages he had when he was busy exploiting them.

Violence wasn’t off the table, by any means, but especially in this case, he didn’t think it would be necessary. He’d start off easy, small pieces of information exchanged, find out what makes him tick. Inquire about his family, guess who they consisted of until his face gave him away. Then he’d simply inform the prisoner that Armin, the dead man addressed in the love letter he had found, had told them them the why but not the who, and simply put - whomever told them who their master was quickest would get the quicker death, and their family would be left alone. And that Armin was very fond of his precious lover. He didn’t want any harm coming to her.

He didn’t think it’d take very long of mulling over that to decide.

Imagine his irritation at finding that his plans were ash before he could even implement them. The prisoner, whom they had captured alive, was now dead. And due to his beaten condition it was unclear exactly how that had happened, whether incidentally or by some design of a traitor in the Belethen ranks. Which is why he personally was now guarding the door to Meera’s rooms and had been for three whole shifts, sending two men away who could have relieved him. The next person to take over would be her future husband, and to him he would finally abandon his watch. He had spent his time writing in detail a letter addressed to the Queen, both to inform her of all that had transpired and to request that his spymasters be sent to him post haste. As they now had work to do in Beleth earlier than expected. It took a while, using his book as a steady plate to write on the parchment, but finish his letter he did, and was blowing the ink dry by the time his Majesty the King arrived.

“Lord Cromwell,” Avery greeted solemnly, offering a plate of hot food to the other man. “You will eat,” he insisted. “And hopefully, not argue when I tell you you must rest. You are no good to any of us in a state of exhaustion.”

He held another plate, presumably for Meera.

“The rest of the company has arrived,” he informed Cromwell, though the other man had likely heard the noise below. “We shall have enough men for several to stand guard each rotation.”

He meant that he’d drawn up shifts so that soldiers from both Theren and Beleth would guard the Queen and patrol the perimeter, though he assumed Cromwell understood what he’d meant. Avery had agreed that it was bad luck indeed that their prisoner had died- And perhaps not luck at all.

He also passed the other man a room key inscribed with a number and nodded down the hallway. “You are next to Lord Emerson.” He almost apologized for it, but didn’t.

Emerson had held it together better than Avery had been expecting, if he was honest. He’d been all business with Avery, and all charm with Meera. Once the inn had been declared secure, though, and Meera safely shut away with a hot bath and a warm bed, his mood had turned somber.

He’d found something strong to drink and someone pretty to bed, and disappeared with hardly any acknowledgement. Hopefully, he and his partner wouldn’t keep Cromwell up- Emerson had enjoyed enough furtive fucks to appreciate the need for at least an attempt at quiet, though he wasn’t always as discrete as Avery might have preferred.

But the nightmares- If he had those tonight, Cromwell was almost certain to hear. Meera, too, and perhaps the whole of the inn. Avery hoped whatever his friend was drinking was strong indeed.

“I suppose that’s an order isn’t it.” Cromwell had a bit of humor in his voice as he folded away his letter and stuffed it in his vest, taking the plate and key and wasting no time in digging in. He was actually pretty hungry, he had reached a point long ago where battle made him ravenous rather than nauseous. He got up from his chair, pocketing the quill and ink, as he chewed and continued.

“If that’s the only way to get you to be sensible, then yes, consider it an order,” Avery agreed.

“She’s been quiet, I’m not sure if she will eat anything, she often doesn’t when she is upset.” Cromwell informed him in a hushed tone, letting him know her habits in the hopes he would note them for the future.

“That is… Good to know. Thank you,” Avery said. Perhaps he would just leave some of the food then, on the side table, for when she woke up. He assumed she had laid down to rest after her bath, and it wasn’t worth disturbing her if she was unlikely to do more than pick at her meal.

He knocked very gently so as not to wake her if she was sleeping deeply but to alert her to someone’s presence if she was only resting, and balanced the tray with one hand as he opened the door.

His posture went very stiff and his face very red, and he might have dropped the tray of food in surprise if he was a man less accompanied to shock.

When the innkeeper had said he and his wife could provide Meera with a ‘private bath’, he had assumed they’d meant only that the washroom would be cleared of any other traffic besides the lady of the establishment bringing in pitchers of warm water, not…. That the room itself had a tub. A tub that faced the door. And was currently occupied. By Meera. Who was naked.

Of course she was naked, Avery thought stupidly to himself- She was bathing, obviously. But beyond that context he could also see she was naked, any soap in the tub long since having lost its obscuring lather and the water line not so high enough to hide her breasts beneath it.

“Ah- Pardon me,” Avery barely managed to not stutter his apology, averting his eyes to the floor after a moment of open staring that had certainly gone on too long, and he was grateful she had not seen. He had seen naked women before, he reminded himself. It was only because he had not been expecting it, that he was so flustered.

Meera lifted her head, broken from the spell of solitude and drowsy brooding.

“Captain?” She sat up and realized she was in cold water and that she suddenly now minded it where she didn’t before. So she stood up and reached over to the chair nearby for her drying sheet, clearly entirely unabashed or concerned about the Captain or Cromwell seeing her naked.

“Your majesty! Please, allow me to,” he fumbled for his words, even more shocked at seeing her stand up so thoughtlessly, “Excuse myself, before I intrude further on your privacy.” He managed to at least turn himself around as he spoke, and allow his feet to carry him back into the safety of the hall.

“I did warn you, your grace, that the people of Beleth were much more modest than you are used to. “ Cromwell caught the door and leaned on it, eyeing the King’s hasty retreat and entirely unperturbed at seeing his Queen naked. He even knew her moon cycle, her body and its health weren’t a new subject to him. The mind and body of the crown was his business.

“But why? It is just my body I am bathing.” Meera said defensively, taking it all as an offense to her looks.

Avery was suddenly very grateful that he had decided to bring Meera her food, instead of one of the other soldiers.

“Maybe you can ask your husband.” Cromwell looked over at Avery before taking another bite of bread, “Once you meet him of course.” He added pointedly.

Any friendly inclinations he had been harboring towards the Theren advisor dissipated. Perhaps he needn’t have worried about one of the other soldiers seeing what he had just seen, as it seemed likely Cromwell would have been more hasty in preventing them from opening the door as he had done.

“Is he going to be afraid of seeing me naked too?! And the ambassadors were so insistent I get pregnant immediately.” She scoffed, earning a chuckle from Cromwell.

“Maybe he won’t take his clothes off, it isn’t entirely necessarily you know.” Cromwell closed the door almost all the way, leaving a crack so they could communicate and protect her ‘modesty’. Staring with an amused smirk at the King.

The glare he gave Cromwell in response was closer to that of a displeased monarch than of a flustered guard, and his embarrassed flush turned to one of anger. This did not seem to worry or humble the Chancellor, who only straightened further with a roll of his shoulders.

“I refuse to make love to my husband fully clothed as if we were sneaking around a feast behind the curtains absolutely not!” Meera gasped and retorted, hating the prospect. Bodies were not particularly scandalous in Theren, though people did cover up the important bits. Sneaking around sexually however, especially publically, was a taboo, and usually done quickly with the clothes on as stereotypically depicted in art and stories. That was indeed considered immodest. Not that people didn’t do it anyhow.

“Best of luck your Majesty.” He called, meaning it to the both of them really as he walked off. It was the most Cromwell had heard her speak since the incident, and the liveliest too, which is why he dared to take the opportunity to tease the King to his face while he could.

Perhaps it had been a mistake, to bring Emerson along- He allowed the bastard lord to get away with many jibes that would not be tolerated from others. He would have to speak with Lord Cromwell, and clarify they were not friends and that if Cromwell wanted to keep his position as a prominent advisor, he would be wise to cease his insolence. No one spoke to- or of - Lady Roysa this way, Avery thought bitterly.

“I have brought food for you, Your Majesty,” Avery said, from the safety of the hallway. “So that you may eat once you are… Attired.”

“That coward he took his opportunity to run away didn’t he?” Meera joked breathlessly while slipping on her nightgown, actually joked, and was surprised at herself for it. How odd, she did not feel she should be joking, not today. Or tonight as it were. Not when death had been certain only hours before. But joke she did, effortlessly.

She pulled on her robe, and tied it secure, just for the Captain’s delicate sensibilities before opening the door.

“I am sorry though Captain, I did not mean to offend your modesty. Truly.” She shrugged, “Our people’s ways are just different, I will learn them in time. I don’t regularly go about trying to scandalize the people who are responsible for rescuing me. I swear it.” Meera said in a more soft and sincere tone. She turned away from the door, expecting him to follow with the food.

“But I must ask, why in Beleth the people would be disgusted by their own bodies. This does not make any sense to me. Even if I do need to accept it.” She asked, not really giving him any space to accept her apology before turning the whole thing around. She stood at the little table in her room, staring at him with a challenging look.

Avery followed her into the room and set the food down on the table from her, doing his best to speak to her as he had previously and not allow himself to be distracted, either by looking or being too obvious in his attempts not to look.

“I do not think it is ‘disgust’ exactly,” he tried to clarify. “You certainly don’t need to worry that- I mean to say- There is nothing… Disgusting about you, Your Majesty,” he attempted to appease her, though he could feel the tips of his ears heating up.

“But our coastal regions are not as warm as yours, and our outfits more suited to the change of seasons,” he attempted to explain. “To show too much skin to anyone besides a servant or a spouse is considered… Improper, as though you expect them to take on that role for you. The first implication can be disrespectful, and the second… Presumptive.”

There was something, very endearing - cute even, about the Captain’s… difficulties. She studied him as he spoke, noticing his discomfort with the subject but his desire not to offend her and softened as he spoke. Though hardly because of his words, she still didn’t agree or understand why seeing someone’s body would suggest anything to do with spousal rights.

Especially given they were so different in rank. She was betrothed anyway. “Goodness, so scary an implication over absolutely nothing. The most concerning of this being that it is too cold to swim? Truly?” She changed the subject out of pity for the Captain and sat down, taking to staring at a candle, thinking of the cold, things were going to be very different for her.

Swimming was an activity she and her ladies did often, nearly every day during summertime especially. She was aware that the castle was not near the coast but she had hoped visiting the coast would not be difficult. She was aware she would not give birth as her mother did, in the waters of the birthing pool, but she thought perhaps she could travel to the coast for something similar. Spirits, all this thinking of birth, she did not know if she would even conceive with this union.

Despite the marriage treaty and expectations of council members no one, not even herself, could force her body to do what it would not do. Her mother nearly died having her and had miscarried often before finally having success. It was lucky that she was born strong and did not die young, yet anyhow, because her father had refused to try again. Which would have left the Kingdom bereft of a successor.

If she was like her mother she too would have difficulty.

“There is a small lake on the castle grounds,” Avery told her. “But it is cool even on warm days, and will begin to ice over in the next few months. There are hot springs beneath the castle, but they are used for soaking than for swimming,” he clarified. They smelled of sulfur and the ones available for personal use were quite shallow, the deeper ones all being used to heat the castle.

“The summer palace is near the coast, and some member of the court take day trips to the beach. But I do not know if the court will be traveling this year,” he admitted. “How is your shoulder feeling?,” he asked, more comfortable sticking to his preplanned list of things to check on than discussing life at court. Or her standards of nudity.

“It’s fine so long as I don’t move it much, mostly just tender.” She turned to poke around around the flesh, puffy and sensitive. She was no longer riding so it had little chance to really bother her, only when the carriage lurched and she knocked it on something did she have reason to wince.

“You are often at court Captain?” Her brow furrowed, he knew a lot of court for a military man, though perhaps he was invited there or it was common for him to be assigned to the castle’s protection. To tell the truth there was little she knew of him.

“Ah- Yes, usually,” he told her. He was getting dangerously close to lying to her, instead of just neglecting to mention important details. She was outright asking about him and his life and he knew he ought to tell her. But she would hate him, if she knew.

And her men might, too. They had leapt into action at his commands earlier that day, but if they resented him, they may not be so quick to do so again.

“I find I spend much more time there than I might like,” he said truthfully. “Certainly much more, recently. But if the reason I am there is because I am no longer needed on a battlefield, then I am content to serve my country in whatever capacity is required.”

“That’s a diplomatic answer.” Meera couldn’t help the amused smile, which the Captain returned, if slightly.

“I don’t blame you for not liking it, court is…” she paused and considered, “- demanding, even for people born to it. If you are there you are under judgement, even someone like you. For however rough this road we’re traveling on might be, at least we don’t have the eyes of the entire ruling force of a country picking apart every move we make. Country life sounds more pleasant in comparison. Is that what you want Captain? A life in the country? Peaceful? Or would you get bored do you think.” She asked, suddenly desirous to learn more of Captain Vee.

Avery looked noticeably uncomfortable with this line of questioning. It wasn’t that he had never considered what he might like in life, if given the choice. He had asked himself that same question, on more than one occasion. He had just always cut off the line of thinking before he could start coming up with answers.

“I am an awful farmer,” he said instead, with a small chuckle, Meera joining him. “A life in the country would not be peaceful for me at all- I would only be at the whims of the seasons instead, and I cannot use my sword to dig irrigation channels or intimidate the weather. There are unique challenges in all walks of life, I reckon, so I must carry on with the ones I have been given and thank the gods I have at least some understanding of my own skills and tools with which to meet them.”

“How noble of you Captain. I suppose then that you’re stationed at the castle? The royal guard or...? Is there a royal guard in the first place? We are like Ruhar in that we have one but they’re comprised of Knights not soldiers. Or rather Theren does, I suppose.” She had to get used to the idea that Theren was not a we so much as it was something she was allowed to keep sovereignty over while serving Beleth.

“There is a royal guard, yes,” Avery told her. “Some of the men we have with us currently are regular members, ones more familiar with the region than those who stay cooped up in city. I am currently unassigned to any particular regiment or unit- Beleth has many men who change positions and duties frequently, and I am glad to be among their number. I suppose I may get bored easily,” he realized. “I like the change of pace the flexibility affords me.”

“Mmm.” She nodded, “Regardless, it is likely I will not be able to speak so candidly with you ever again. You must go to your duty and I must do mine. I am glad I could meet you Captain Vee. Should you have any request a Queen can arrange for you in the future you need only ask. You did save my life after all.” Meera noted more seriously. They were all of them in a strange limbo right now. She was not performing as royalty yet. She was in part of course, as she was born to it and its manners and customs would always be etched into her, but her guard was not up. She was not thinking of courtly tactics or fake smiles, she was allowed to be more genuine here where she did not need to perform. Soon however, she’d be surrounded by people who hated her, if she wasn’t already.

Avery’s discomfort deepened. There was nothing he could request of a Queen, after all, that he could not simply acquire in his own name.

“I don’t think I ever even thanked you…” Meera realized.

“There is no need to,” he told her. “You are to be my queen- It is my duty and my privilege to ensure your safety.”

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Cromwell

Location: Beleth - Innhouse on the border| Interacting with: Lord Emerson

Lilia was no courtesan of any ranking, with a guild or a house madam to protect her and determine the costs of her time and services. But neither was she a fallen woman working on her own in the dirtier parts of a city, or under the exploitation of some greedy master. The husband and wife who owned the inn were good people, and they had come to an agreement years ago.

She assisted with meals and serving and housekeeping as needed, and she received a small room and her meals and a meager stipend. If her pretty face and deep cleavage caught the attention of a guest- She could enjoy that attention as she wished. Their town was one of few places populated enough in this area to even be called a town, and it was good customer service, to have a pretty maid available to warm the bed of travelers.

She could turn down guests if she pleased, and accept what payment she pleased, and she spoke of it a little with the wife and never with the husband. The husband, she suspected, had hoped she might one day marry their son when they had first hired her. But he had never come home from an early skirmish several years ago, so it was not meant to be.

Lila liked Lord Emerson nearly as soon as she'd seen him- He'd been comfortable in his command of the room and with delegating the men who weren't scurrying about under the orders of the Captain or Lord Cromwell but not demanding. She was familiar with his reputation, but he seemed harmless enough. He'd mostly been paying attention to the Theren princess, trying to keep her entertained or at least distracted from the ordeal. It had almost endeared the princess to Lilia, to see someone so eager to be kind to her. It had at least made Lilia more sympathetic to the girl's recent trauma, even if she had thought a few, mean thoughts when they'd first learned what had happened.

But after the princess had been escorted away by the innkeeper's wife, Emerson's grin had slipped like a loose tile from an old roof, and he'd grown sullen. The other men had avoided him altogether when they'd served the evening meal in the common room out of some unspoken knowledge, and he'd sulked near the fire, moody and silent.

It was... Sad, she thought. Lilia was aware of his reputation, of course, but he seemed harmless enough. He had a nice smile, she'd thought, and she wanted to see it again, see if she had imagined it or if he really did have one sharp tooth like a fang that could only be seen if he was grinning widely enough.

When she approached him later that evening, she hadn't been planning on asking for payment. But he'd offered, even before she could escalate her flirtatious attempts, and it had been a very generous offer. Very generous indeed. He'd smiled at her once they'd gone to his room and undressed, a feral sort of grin that she'd found quite intoxicating. But it wasn't a very wide grin.

He was an attentive lover, enough so that her concerns about his earlier moodiness were forgotten amidst her own enjoyment. If he seemed overly dedicated, as if he were trying to distract himself, she did not notice. He made it a point, to make sure she noticed very little.

She'd had to excuse herself at one point, and she'd been surprised to run into the Captain. Perhaps a bit embarrassed as well, though Vee gave no indication that she should be. He'd given her very odd instructions, and said he'd hoped she wouldn't need them.

It had been very strange, she thought. But, as the Captain said might happen, she'd woken to Lord Emerson turning about in his sleep. She'd spoken his name, softly and then a bit louder, and he hadn't roused. He'd started turning more violently, almost thrashing about, and as much as she had found the Captain's instructions overbearing, they had been very specific. She'd gathered her robe about her and slipped out of the bed, just as Lord Emerson said something unintelligible but very angry, and his fist came down right where she'd been lying.

The Captain was on the room to the right of Lord Emerson's room, he'd said- Or maybe it was the left? No, she decided. It was the right, she was pretty sure.

"Captain Vee," she said, knocking on the door, running one hand through her dark curls, listening to any sounds from the room she'd left. The walls weren't particularly thick and she was a little self conscious to remember how loud she might have been earlier in the night, and she could hear Lord Emerson whimpering and moaning and occasionally mumbling something harsh. It wasn't loud enough yet to wake the hall if they were sleeping, but the Captain had said he might start shouting if he began to thrash, which she was pretty certain was how she would define what had been happening.

It was not actually Captain Vee’s door she was knocking on as her luck would have it, but Lord Cromwell’s, a Lord Cromwell who had not an hour before hand finally gone to sleep. He wanted to remain that way frankly, but sat up nonetheless.

"Captain Vee," Lilia repeated, knocking a bit more insistently. "He didn't wake when I called his name, he's started getting violent!"

Cromwell quietly stood on the other end of the door with his hand on the nob, calm where Lilia was panicked. An onlooker might think he was listening quietly and thinking, but really he was just willing the grogginess swimming in his head away. He really was just a man after all, despite the insistence of many that he was a ghoul who needed neither sleep nor sustenance. Once he’d succeeded in gathering his wits he swung the door open and stepped into the hallway, careful to close his door behind him.

“He’s getting violent?” He clarified to the pretty barmaid, noticing how pretty her curls looked after they’d been tossled in bed.

Lilia looked confused to see Cromwell in the doorway, but she brushed it aside. She was pretty sure the Captain was sharing a room with the squad leader since they had alternate watch shifts. She might have recalled that the squad leader was an older man than Cromwell, but he’d answered her knocking with what seemed like confidence in the situation and not confusion over being called upon, so she assumed she had found someone who could help.

“He swung at me,” she clarified. “The Captain, he said- That if he started turning over more than twice in a minute, he might start shouting soon after, and that I shouldn’t try to wake him and should just fetch the Captain instead,” she explained, taking the lamp hanging from a hook in the hall down and bringing it into the room she had just left, since she had extinguished the lamp in the room after she and Lord Emerson had worn themselves out.

Cromwell followed her, since he was already awake anyhow there was little sense in waking up his majesty to deal with Lord Emerson. And maybe, just a little bit, he had some sort of sick curiosity in him about Emerson where there used to be none. Blame the thin walls for that.

He didn’t look much like a lord now, bastard one or not- His face was crumpled with pain by the light of the small lamp, and the bedsheets were twisted around his body as he turned about. He snarled loudly, a guttural sound, and Lillia almost dropped the lamp in surprise at its ferocity. He was more similar to an animal caught in a trap than a charming gentleman, and Lillia found herself almost scared of him.

Cromwell tilted his head in observation for a moment before resolving to wake him up right around when the limited light started to become annoyingly unreliable.

“Do try to hold it a bit more steady miss. If he swings at anyone this time it’ll just be me.” He told her in an effort to get her to calm down and hold the lamp. He didn’t really need to see Lord Emerson all that well he supposed, however, as he leaned over into the bed to grab his arm.

Emerson went rigid the moment Cromwell’s hand touched his arm, and his opposite arm flew to the wooden plank that supported the mattress where he yanked out the knife he had stuck there hours ago. His eyes were open and wild with anger, as he slashed it across the air in front of him and towards the neck of his attacker and he growled out, “You fuckin’ coward, I’ll kill you-”

“You’re in an Inn-house… Lord Emerson. And you’re frightening your pretty bed mate.” Cromwell said evenly but firmly, having dodged and caught Emerson’s wrist, holding his knife out of their way in case he persisted. Cromwell wasn’t entirely foreign to night terrors, but it’d been a long time since he’d dealt with anyone who had them. A long time indeed. The thing he most remembered helping was reminding the suffering party where they were.

Emerson continued to struggle and kept up his curses though they were harder to understand- It sounded like more threats and a demand to know ‘what they’d done with him’, and possibly still more threats.
Lilia had managed to hang the lantern on a hook in the wall before fleeing the room, but she’d done it in such a hurry that it still swung back and forth, and Emerson could conjure up any number of faces to fill the shifting shadows across his attacker’s face.

He tried to drop the knife into his other hand but Cromwell had already seen to prevent that, and Emerson finally seemed to listen, and to look up at the person he’d been trying to fight.

“Even out your breathing.” He suggested flatly, unable to go without noticing he was all but looming over the heaving man, both knees on the bed now.

Emerson was still for a moment as his body and his brain finally worked together to place him in the present day, and then he fell back limply, pinned by Cromwell.

‘There we go,’ Cromwell internally triumphed, satisfied that he’d succeeded in waking the man up with little harm to either person. Though perhaps Lord Emerson’s wrist might bruise if he was delicate enough. He studied his face, making out what he could be thinking, who was it who’d attacked him in his dream?

“You’re not Vee,” he said flatly, though it sounded like it might be an accusation. Even with the shifting light, it was impossible to mistake Emerson’s expression as one of gratitude or even relief as he looked up at the other man. “Let go of me,” he demanded.

“Your partner did not knock on his majesty’s door.” He informed Emerson as he let his knife wrist go, only to snatch away the blade and dig it back into the wood it was placed into before, the movement quick and sharp.

It was fine, Emerson reminded himself quickly, that Cromwell knew that ‘Vee’ meant ‘His Majesty’. This was now, and not then. It was fine.

It was less fine that Cromwell was still leaning over him. Usually he might enjoy the sight, but he didn’t have it in him at the moment to appreciate it, much less make crude commentary.

“And I saw no need to wake him since I was already up.” He finished, pulling back and rolling his shoulders, looking back to confirm the woman had left. He’d heard her retreat but…

Emerson relaxed a tiny bit more once the other man was out of his space.

“Well. I shall try not to make a habit of disturbing your sleep,” Emerson said stiffly, aware he could not really be angry at the man for what had occured. He got out of the bed and did not look back in Cromwell’s direction as he collected his pants and overshirt and dressed himself perfunctorily. “But if it should happen again- I would appreciate it if you would just fetch Vee instead.”

He had to go find the other man now anyways, to reassure himself that Avery was indeed alive and whole.

Cromwell wondered if Lord Emerson’s annoyance stemmed from being caught in a vulnerable position, that made sense and seemed to fit. It did make him bash down any amused tone in his voice however, he wasn’t a heartless bastard all the time.

“As you will.” He said neutrally, turning the heel and leaving the room himself, with the newfound knowledge that Lord Emerson had freckles on his ass as well as on his shoulders. He didn’t know if he really wanted to retain that, how annoying.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & Lord Cromwell

Location: Beleth - road to Redhill| Interacting with: Lord Cromwell & Alexander

In the end, cowardice had won out. Or as Captain Vee liked to phrase it ‘being smart and safe’. Meera didn’t need more convincing to that end but Lord Blackbird actually took the Captain’s side, which set the last the nail in the coffin so to speak. She was Queen and outranked all of them but she was also outnumbered and displaced, which left her feeling utterly useless and strangely powerless. Especially to her own Chancellor. She realized that she resented that feeling quite a bit. How different of a meaning her rank suddenly had outside of a castle, it left her feeling like a silly little girl. And the more she considered it the more she realized that was exactly as she had been treated since she was crowned. It was only really with her mother at her back supporting her that she had any real say. While that left a confidence in her mother’s authority as Queen Regent, as if there had ever been any doubt, it left her feeling inadequate and small. She had to rise to her position in a way she had yet to do in any real sense.

Meera was excellent at waving at people who already loved her, saying pretty and clever things, dancing around a room and captivating onlookers. But authority, rule, the respect of a Queen she had only tasted by proxy as a negotiator. Always with her father’s will backing her wherever she went. She was still just a Princess wearing pretty dresses and glittering smiles.

This and more left her brooding, staring outside the small slits in the drawn curtains of the carriage. The will to perform some semblance of perseverance sort of slipped away by the next day even though Lord Emerson did his utmost to engage her. She found herself apologizing one too many times for delayed responses and dry conversation. Eventually insisting that Lord Emerson should give up and go back to the company outside rather than persist at what was a losing battle. Besides, she wanted time to think.

“The excitement of seeing her ladies will make her forget about all of this. She is strong, she will be fine.” - she thought she heard one night outside her door, Lord Cromwell reassuring someone stiffly, as if defending her. She didn’t know who, but she supposed it wasn’t that important. It made her ashamed but that shame did nothing to lift her spirits. If she was not in a carriage she was shut away in a room, and this quiet mood kept up until what was the last day of travel. She had changed from her riding clothes into a dress and finer cloak of velvety red material that morning, her tiara set above her curls again. She had to arrive looking her part.

The carriage stopped, but they were still on a dirt road, the lining of trees still thick, were they already there? She had thought the castle was set in a city? She had been expecting to see that city long before the castle itself. She drew back the curtains and peaked her head outside, almost immediately Cromwell was at her side drawing the curtains back shut.

“It is nothing your majesty, please stay inside the carriage, it isn’t safe.” He said brusquely.

Ridiculous, if it were nothing then it would be safe wouldn’t it. Anger and defiance welled up in her immediately, though she did not not act on it. She was sure Lord Blackbird had his reasons but she really was growing tired of being treated like a child. She took a few deep breaths, calming down and deciding to be patient. For now.

Lord Cromwell observed the wreckage before them from his place next to the royal carriage, a covered cart was flipped on its side, its cargo strewn about. It appeared to be food and hay. Too little to really be considered all of the cargo, whatever else valuable the cart had must have been taken, along with the horses driving it. The owners however, were clearly still with the wreckage. There they lay, out on the grass, bloody and dead. The wife’s clothes in particular ripped to shreds, he guessed they did not let her die quick.

Those fucking slobs. He had instructed them to leave people alive, this was supposed to be a rescue on the Queen’s part. Something to show people that she was dedicated to protecting the people of Beleth. But this was nothing. This was just carnage. He ground his teeth and cursed inwardly.

Cromwell was ruthless and unopposed to violence in order to get his way, but he did not do such things senselessly. These deaths did not serve anyone’s purpose, least of all his or his charge’s. What’s more this was not just useless death on his hands, but failure of a plan, which in his eyes was much worse. It was a good thing he had decided long ago when he first hired these mercenaries that they would be double crossed, killed and buried far underground instead of paid for their work. He could not risk the incident harming the crown in any way should someone find out, and he certainly didn’t trust the tongues of hired swords. Now he supposed their deaths would serve as their punishment for a botched job. No doubt they rode to their death now, in a few days time to meet their grave once in Theren.

He gestured to two of his men to tend to the bodies of the dead, dismounting himself to make a show on inspecting the scene as the Captain ordered his men around.

Meera, having gotten fed up, peaked her head out of the other side of the carriage, observing in horror and confusion at the scene. She kept her eyes off of the bodies once she realized they were dead, instead training them on the carriage. She didn’t really hear what everyone was saying, instead imagining her own attackers doing this for some reason. Her attackers were dead, they had to be different men. Bandits perhaps, the cart looked ravaged. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the fallen hay, seeing the torn tarp that had covered the cart at one time shift, was that the wind? No, whatever it was it had to be small. She looked at the bodies on the ground, covered in cloaks now. They had been a man and a woman, man and wife probably.

She was out of the carriage before anyone could stop her, crossing the scene and ignoring everyone else in it. She had seen the tarp shift, it was something small. She crouched before it, peeling it back, hidden in a bale of hay, a child, a boy.

“Are you hurt?” She asked softly, he had blood around his collar a little on his fingers and cheek, dry and dark by now. “It’s alright little one, it’s going to be alright, I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but we’re here to help you.” She cooed, extending her hand towards him. He stared at her for a moment before taking her hand.

“There we go, thank you for trusting me. I’m going to wrap you in my cloak, alright?” She said as she pulled at the strings of her thick velvet. It was the warmest cloak she owned, and it left her pretty bare in the cold but she wasn’t really considering that at the moment, focused on the boy. She successfully drew him out and wrapped him up, seeing a shallow cut on his throat, as if someone had held a blade there at one point. It wasn’t bleeding anymore but they could still clean it and wrap it loosely. She covered his head to obscure his sight, though it was unlikely he hadn’t seen his parents already.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

They’d been moving more slowly, Avery’s caution preventing haste- He’d elected to go by land instead of sea, a decision he still stood by. But here in the winding trails of the mountain foothills, another ambush seemed all too likely, and Avery struggled with his paranoia.


At least he’d been able to leverage his saving of Meera’s life into her helping him to preserve it further- If she really wanted to thank him, he’d pointed out, she could show it by not putting herself in any more danger. There were very few people to be waving at along this stretch of road after all, and they’d enter the city in privacy and go directly to the castle.


(Avery was determined she would only meet the people once she was officially their queen, and it would be a criminal act to throw rotten food at her.)


Everything about this current situation screamed ‘trap’, even without the paranoia of recent events, and Avery dispatched the men as such. Yes, men to search the woods for any sign of the attackers (likely long gone, based on the state of the scene), but also men to secure the area and check for archers hidden in the trees.


“A robbery gone wrong, then?,” he asked, as the guards swarmed the scene and surrounding area.


“An unusual target,” Emerson replied, having also gotten down from his horse to investigate with Avery and Cromwell. “Even if they carried jewels or gold with them- There’d be little to indicate it,” he said with a shrug. It was true- items of value might have been taken from the scene before they’d arrived, but the quality of the clothes and cart and what has left did not suggest the travelers had wealth to be stolen.


“Have Silas sketch their faces best he can before we bury them,” Avery instructed. “We’ll have the next patrol coming back this way try to find out their identities-”


He was distracted by a flash of pale blue from behind the carriage- Oh, godsdamn her!


“Meera, get down,” he shouted, already rushing across the opening and pulling his shield from his back, sure he would hear the whistle of an arrow sailing towards her chest any minute now-


It didn’t come, and when he saw the object of her attentions, his desire to yell at her for being so foolishly reckless waned.


“Greetings, young sir,” he said softly, nodding his head slightly. “Let’s get you cleaned up inside the carriage, shall we?”


He did not present the option to stay out in the open, but he noted Meera’s angle and echoed it as he guided the way to prevent the boy from seeing too much of the carnage- In that aspect, at least, they were in agreement.

“Let’s go over here so that the Captain doesn’t yell our heads off shall we? Are you hurt

anywhere else?” Meera asked, but received no answer, not even a head tilt at her joke, which was perhaps ill fated given what had happened today. The poor boy seemed pretty listless. Meera glanced at the Captain worriedly, grateful that he was now playing along. She covered the side of his face as she startled and noticed that they were passing a slaughtered hound, probably the loyal family dog. The bandits hadn’t even left the damn dog alive, the boy had to have been very lucky. How had he survived?


“Water, bandages?” She mouthed, barely above a whisper as they reached the carriage and she lifted him in.


“You aren’t in any trouble,” he reassured the boy. “You were very brave. But you don’t need to be brave anymore, we’ll be brave for you, all right?”


He pulled off the cushion on the opposite bench to reveal a small handle, which he pulled up to expose the shallow cupboard beneath and took out a wax sealed flask and some spare bandages.


He broke the seal and pulled the wax off, crumbling it into a ball and holding it up to the boy’s face. He made a show of twisting it about in his hand for the boy to see before he spread his fingers and revealed it to have vanished. He made a surprised face, as if he hadn’t been expecting that, and then reached behind Meera’s hair, and appeared to pull it back out from inside her ear. Meera grinned thankfully at this, surprised at the Captain’s ingenuity when it came to a child.


“Why don’t you let… Miss Meera here clean up that cut, and make sure you aren’t injured too badly, and I can show you how I did that when I come back?”


He had called her ‘Meera’ when he’d been worried she was in danger, same as he had when they’d first been attacked- Nobility didn’t always respond to their titles as quickly as their names, he’d found. Sometimes he still forgot that ‘Your Majesty’ meant him. But even without the specter of danger, he thought it might be best to refer to her informally. Introducing her as royalty would probably spook the boy into further silence.


“Is that all right? Maybe you could nod, if it is, even if you don’t feel ready to talk?”


The boy’s mouth moved, but he instead decided to nod once strongly, appearing to regret that when he clutched his neck.


“Oooo you poor thing here we’ll make that feel better.” Meera winced at the sight, dampening a cloth she rummaged from the compartment with some water, “Here hold that to your neck right there, I’ll clean you face and hands.” He did as he was told, focused now instead of dead eyed, which was a remarkable improvement. Meera wondered if the allure of a slight of hand trick was truly that enticing. It must be, to a child who believed its illusion anyhow.


“How in the world did he do that? And here I thought the Captain was just soldier…” She said, shaking her head as she worked, a truly confounded look on her face. “Maybe I just have too much wax in my ear do you think?”


“He really pulled it from your ear?” he spoke, softly, incredulously. “Is he… a wizard?” he asked even quieter.


Meera had to push down her triumphant smile with all her strength, to act alarmed of course. “You don’t think? Well he might be. He could be for all I know I only met him recently. But he must be one of those friendly wizards. You know?”


He nodded gingerly, locking eyes with her. “I’m going to learn magic then.” he said, entirely serious.


She couldn’t help but laugh, trying to muffle it with her arm.


Lord Cromwell waited patiently for the King to step out of the carriage, eyeing the inside, face stoney and unreadable. But then again when was it not. “Not much to report, there was less than ten of them. The bo-”


“There was a survivor,” Avery interrupted harshly, looking pointedly at the carriage. He gestured at a spot on the other side of the road, and led the road, expecting the Chancellor to follow. About halfway there though, he said, “Continue.”


“The bodies can be buried here or wrapped up and taken with us I am not sure how you wish to handle the dead. They appeared to be modest traders, some chests maybe were taken but nothing much else. Perhaps they had land to tend to. One of your scouts came back and reported the tracks were old, more than a day, they can be followed if you wish. They all appeared to be on horseback, no arrows they must have melee weapons. Did you say there was a survivor?” Cromwell recited rather quickly.


“Yes, a boy- Ten, maybe. He was hiding. Her Majesty found him,” Avery said, with a hint of accusation. He had thought he could trust Cromwell to make sure the Majesty in question stayed in the carriage.


Which went promptly ignored.


“I want to make it to Redhill before sundown,” Avery repeated the goal for the day, glancing up at the sky. It was still possible. And it looked unlikely to rain and wash the tracks away. “We’re unlikely to catch up with them, but it’s worth seeing where they were headed.”


It might yield some insight into the identity of the attackers, or the cargo they had taken.


But he was reluctant to split their men any further- They’d lost some in the attack to death and injury, and the necessity of extra patrolling as the group traveled meant fewer men in the main group.


“At the next village, we will pay a runner to carry word to the fort on the coast. They will follow the tracks and perform the investigation, and I will speak with the Lord and Baron responsible for maintaining these roads about increasing patrols in the area.”


There was a survivor, and that’s all Cromwell had particularly focused on, the rest was just jargon, routine. He wasn’t concerned with the trail really, even if they failed to mask there’s like he had instructed there would be no evidence of their existence anywhere in a few days. Perhaps this wasn’t entirely a wash, a ten year old boy had been found by the Queen. But without the parents could it ever amount to anything? Children were notoriously ignored, as crass as that sounded it was the truth. Damn those filthy, incompetent, parasite ridden mercenaries.


“Or perhaps that was on purpose too…” Cromwell leveled with the King, staring him in the eye, his hands moving behind his back to rest in the position that always made him to appear a disapproving tutor.


As ballsy as this was, Cromwell was well within his rights to lay down the complaint, in fact it would look odd if he did not. He was well aware the attack was no threat to the Queen but it wouldn't look that way to anyone else. They were supposed to arrive in Beleth with a Queen intact, not looking like a pincushion.


Avery looked alarmed. “He’s only a boy! What kind of monsters would-”


“I do not think the Queen is any danger from the boy,” Emerson interrupted calmly, his hand on Avery’s arm to prevent him from heading back to the carriage in a rush.


Emerson’s wrist was still bruised on the inside, and his stomach twisted up unfamiliarly whenever he thought of Cromwell pinning him to the bed and trying to reassure him - Not that Emerson had spent much time thinking on it, of course.


But he had decided he neither liked nor trusted the Chancellor, and had expressed this opinion to Avery who had nodded his acknowledgment of hearing the concern, but otherwise not responded in a way Emerson would have liked.


“Just because you do not care for the man, does not make him an enemy,” the King had said patiently.


“He’s a shifty bastard, and he’s up to something,” Emerson had insisted, to which Avery had raised his eyebrow in amusement. He’d heard that sort of warning before, but usually about Emerson and not from him.


Now he gave Cromwell a dry look from behind the shoulder of the King.


“Chancellor,” he prompted, “Perhaps you could elaborate on your concerns….?”


Cromwell really had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, the boy, truly. How was it that Theren had lost a war to this man? “Simply put that the obvious danger here appears to be either you, your nobility, or both. I can assure you that is how this is all going to look when a final report of the journey is made to the Queen Regent, who, perhaps I should enlighten you - vehemently opposed this entire attempt at a treaty. We are all very fortunate the crown no longer rested on her head. Two violent incidents in a short span of time the last of which could be because of neglect and carelessness at best and an attempt at intimidation at worst. The only thing missing here is an assassination attempt at the wedding. Which will, should such a thing actually come to pass make no doubt about it, spark violence.” Cromwell deadpanned, his speech speeding up as he went.


He eyed Lord Emerson, “You recall the negotiating table. Half of our Lords of the council were there not because they were all who were necessary but because they were all whom I could convince to show up.”, he pressed.


“It is lucky for both our countries that my Queen values the lives of her people more than she values her head. But despite all that if it does fly off of her shoulders we will have war once again. Something no one present wants I assume against better judgement.” Cromwell finished, his tone actually angry. Spirits he was actually so good at delivering tirades he fooled even himself sometimes. He took a deep breath and sighed.


Avery’s face had turned stony, and Emerson crowed internally.


“Do you really believe me to be so incompently stupid,” he spat, “That I would place myself at the scene of a murder I arranged and would be the most obvious suspect for? If Queen Meera’s death was my goal,” he snarled, “I could have stayed in my castle. Gods above and below, why would I have even bothered with the treaty if I wanted her dead- I could have had both her and her mother executed once I’d taken your capitol.”


He hadn’t even advanced on the city, even though he’d already had the men and the strategy drafted to do so, before he’d killed King Gareth.


“The people can think that and worse of you your majesty. The people, Lords and commoners alike, are stupid and prideful. You should know this as King your majesty.” He shifted his stance, “It doesn’t matter what I think. I am just one amongst an entire country. One who was for this treaty need I remind everyone.” Cromwell added, before he was dragged and quartered for his impertinence.


“Vee,” Emerson warned, recognizing the anger in his friend’s voice and concerned it might boil over. He wanted the King to be suspicious of Cromwell, yes, not punch him in front of their shared men. “He’s only being honest with you- And he has a point. We all know this marriage is not… Popular, among either country. We’ve discussed the possibility of sabotage.”


They had, at length- Even before the attack, they’d drawn up a list of nobility on either side who might prefer to see Meera dead rather than Queen of Beleth.


“Your Queen Regent concern’s for her daughter are not without cause,” Avery admitted. “But they are concerns I share, and I will not have you insinuate that I am the cause. I gave the Princess Grace clear instructions on what she should do, should I return without Queen Meera,” he revealed. “Have me imprisoned for treason, and send me to Delphi in chains to endure whatever punishment will prevent further war.”


He did what? Cromwell tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Pardon?”


Of all the thrice damned stupid things he’d heard, this one was terrifyingly new. Cromwell could say or think what he will about the King of Beleth but he had just succeeded in doing something eerily similar to what had happened on the battlefield not so long ago. He’d surprised him. He recalled in the war room pouring over

maps being frustrated at his ability to blindside them.


“I believe there was a bit more detail to it than that,” Emerson corrected. “And the Princess insisted she would like to at least attempt to find the true perpetrators before allowing anyone to execute you,” he added tightly. “And there may also have been something about, oh, I don’t know, not discussing this with others or within earshot of others?”


If anything happened to Meera, the blame had to go to someone. And quickly, before the war started again, even bloodier than last time. It was all very just and noble for Avery to be willing to accept that blame- Except of course, it put an easy target on his back.


If Cromwell’s hatred for Beleth was stronger than his love for Meera, he might knife the young queen and provided he didn’t do it too obviously, Avery would shoulder the guilt. And not shoulder his head for much longer after that, presumably. Depending on how reasonable Queen Regent Agora was feeling and how confidently the new Queen Grace would be able to negotiate with her, he might not even have to do it subtly. Avery had made clear to both Grace and Roysa that if Agora wanted his life in exchange for her daughter’s, they were to give it.


“You do realize telling me this is dangerous do you not? They call me all sorts of things in Theren, most of them having to do with making and breaking men high and low using their own secrets against them. I could use this to put Theren at an advantage again.” Cromwell told Avery, carefully, incredulously, his voice lowering.


Emerson looked pointedly at Avery. The ‘I told you so’ could have applied equally to ‘Cromwell shouldn’t be trusted’ or to ‘Don’t tell people this’, but Avery ignored it either way, staring down Cromwell instead. He had made a mistake, he knew, admitting that in his anger- But if it was truly the mistake Emerson thought it to be, he doubted Cromwell would be agreeing.


“Lord Emerson is correct, it was very disadvantageous to tell me this.” He straightened, realizing he was leaning in, “Moreover it implicates me now should anything go wrong. Especially since there are two of you and one of me.” He stared at Emerson now, eyebrow arched. His own head was a small concern according to the scale of what could happen but this all just became impossibly more messy.


He fiddled with his cuffs, thinking.


“All the more reason to keep moving,” Emerson hissed. “And get to Redhill before sundown.”


Cromwell grunted, giving a displeased nod.


“Agreed,” Avery said. “Get the men formed up again,” he instructed. “Have anything that might be of value put in a chest for the boy, and use the canvas off the supply wagon to wrap the bodies. We’ll leave the rest for the men stationed at the fort to deal with.”


Wild animals might come before the local patrol did, and the lack of clouds in the sky indicated the wagon wouldn’t need the canvas tarp to protect its contents from rainfall.

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: Alexander & Captain Vee & Princess Grace

Meera had finished wrapping the boy’s neck up, careful not to secure anything too tightly, and learned his name as Alexander by the time the Captain came back and did what he had promised while the men worked outside. They didn’t have very long before they were on the move again, but it was enough to further endear both the Captain and Alexander to her. That shared moment of kindness had been more interaction than she’d had in a while, and did more to lift her mood and strengthen her resolve than any brooding she had done in the meantime. She actually had to keep from laughing when she informed him that she had lead Alexander to believe he was a wizard. Meera was going to miss the Captain’s company when the journey finally ended, she realized. She made sure to thank him again, as much with her eyes as with her words as she could, before he left to mount his horse.

If her husband to be was half as kind as the Captain he sent to retrieve her, she did not think things would be too bad.

Alexander fell asleep, resting his head on her lap, for most of the remainder of the trip. When he was awake and ate something she learned further that he had no other relatives, it was just his mother and father and him. He’d had an older brother, but he never came back from the war. Exhaustion hit the poor boy hard, she didn’t know how long he’d been hiding, or if he’d slept in the meantime, but something told her he hadn’t at all. And when they arrived she had to arouse him.

“We’re here Alexander, at the Castle at Redhill.” She explained, combing through his hair with her fingers.

“The castle? What am I going to doing here?” Alexander startled at that, looking out the window worriedly.

“Oh no it’s ok Alexander, listen.” She pulled him back, “Don’t frighten yourself, I am sent here to marry the King. You know what that means don’t you?” Her words did not appear to clarify as much as she had hoped they would. In fact he seemed more confused than ever.

“It means that I am going to be Queen of Beleth. And as Queen I have the means to see to it that you’re well looked after. You’ll stay here at the castle with me and we will see how best to do that alright?” She explained.

“So… I’m not going back? I don’t have to make my own dinner?” Alexander asked, the implication of this, Meera took, was that he didn’t have to figure out a way to look after himself.

“Nope, you’ll eat big ol’ dinners made by the palace cook.” She winked.

“But, what will happen to the farm?” Alexander made a funny face, feeling guilty about not looking after his home properly as he’d been brought up to do.
“It will be there for you, but first you have to grow up to manage it don’t you? You’re still very little the wolves will get to you if we leave you alone on a big ol’ farm.” Meera pointed out.

Alexander huffed out an amused sound, “The farm isn’t big, but the wolves are.” He leaned on her side. “How come you aren’t fat and ugly?” He mused, bringing up the things he’d heard his parents say about the new Queen, he knew enough to know of nobles but not enough to know anything about appropriate etiquette.

“What?” Meera had time to ask before the carriage doors swung open.

Avery had to stifle his laughter as he helped Meera and Alexander out of the carriage.

“I’m not sure that is a polite question to ask a lady, young sir,” Avery advised the young boy as he lifted him down to the cobbled pavement. “Perhaps Lord Emerson can explain further- He will make sure you get a hot meal and a nice comfortable bed to sleep in, and tomorrow you and the Queen can talk more about your future, all right?”

He might have said more, but one of the women standing up on the steps had decided she was not in a mood to wait, and had come running down to greet them, shrieking slightly as her dark hair flew behind her.

“Queen Meera! Oh, praise the gods,” Grace exclaimed- She nearly went in for a hug but thought better of it at the last minute, and instead grasped Meera’s hands in hers and and clung to them enthusiastically. “We heard about what happened, we were all so terribly worried! But I’m so glad you’re finally here! And you,” she said accusatorily, in the captain’s direction though her face was split in a grin, “Oh, bless you, Vee! Thank you for making sure she was safe, I was going to be ever so angry with you otherwise!”

Grace let go of the Queen’s hand and threw her arms around the Captain, impeding his progress up the stairs and his unsubtle attempts to move the whole of the party inside. He seemed a tad irritated, but mostly fond when he chastised, “Princess, please.”

Meera was handing Alexander off to Emerson when she suddenly straightened wide eyed at the shrieking noble girl coming towards her. Highly unusual of the behavior of a lady if she was who Meera assumed she was but though they were the same height the Princess seemed rather young, younger even than Lady Mercy. Meera was sure of it, she must be the Princess Graceling.

“Thank you your grace.” Meera returned her smile widely, meeting her was like getting the wind knocked out of you but it was not at all unwelcome or unpleasant. It was leagues above what she had expected in fact, that the King’s sister might hate her and not give her a chance. It seemed that wasn’t going to be a problem at all.


Grace released Avery, and he bowed slightly to the other women at the top of the steps.

“Please excuse me ladies, I’m afraid the unfortunate events of the road must occupy my time at present,” he told them. He certainly had a mess of work to do. “Your Majesty,” he addressed Meera. “I trust your ladies and the Princess Grace can show you to your temporary accommodations and see you are ready for a private dinner-”

“Dinner with Aunt Roysa has been cancelled,” Grace interrupted. “Meeting with Roysa can often be a tiring affair,” she told Meera in an aside, though not so quietly that the comment was private. None of the Beleth men seemed to find her frankness unusual. “So I’ve postponed it until tomorrow- We can have our evening meal in my rooms, if you like, once you’re settled!”

Meera restrained herself from saying anything to the tune of ‘oh my’ or ‘goodness’ when the Princess embraced the Captain. In fact it confused her quite a bit. The Princess embracing a Captain? Right where everyone can see? She looked around, slightly embarrassed for the Princess’s reputation. Too shell shocked from the sudden greeting and subsequent action to really do anything besides be led, Meera remembered to look over her shoulder to find Alexander, but he was already gone.

Why in the world was the Captain telling them things that, by all accounts, were not really his concern? If anyone should announce such things it would probably be Lord Emerson wouldn’t it? But Meera chocked that up to a difference in how Beleth operated. There was much she did not understand. That did not stop her from eyeing the Captain uncertainly of course. What had the Princess asked? Oh ancestors help her dinner of course.

Grace looked excited by the prospect, but then added, “Though of course, do not feel obligated- You have had a long and hard journey, food can just be sent to your suite directly. If you would prefer.”

“On the contrary Princess, I would consider it an honor to dine with you, but more importantly I would consider it a pleasure.” Meera gave a dazzling smile, meaning it. She wanted to take the opportunity to meet the Princess now, and if it was alone all the better. Lady Roysa, from what she knew of her, was more likely someone to contend with than to become an ally. And Meera needed every ally she could get. It was just her luck that the Princess was also so very pleasant.

Grace beamed at her. “I should let you catch up with your ladies, and get settled! But just send word once you are hungry- Or perhaps 10 minutes prior- and I shall be ready to receive you,” she said as they entered the hall. It was not the front hall through which guests might come and go and was not as grand, but it was for use by the permanent residents of the court to come and go without traveling into the city, and the two story chamber was paneled with brightly polished stone and dark wood.

Avery was going to say something, but he wasn’t sure what- That she should enjoy her stay? How utterly stupid.

But instead he let her ladies come between himself and Meera, their long skirts and elegant figures presenting a barrier more tangible than any mountain range, and held his tongue. He hadn’t been lying, when he said he had work to do. He supposed he ought to go do it.

As if hearing his thoughts, the three elegant ladies turned their heads to glance back at him, each of them raising a brow, before turning forward. What was said with that look, seemed to confirm that he should go make himself busy.

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: Princess Grace & The Ladies in Waiting

They made small talk until they reached her room, “Are these… the Queen’s chambers?” Meera asked carefully, not wanting to offend, but frankly it was obvious to her that these rooms could hardly be considered a Queen’s rooms. Everything about this castle was so dark, in stark contrast to the white castle of Delphi, who seemed to soak up the light. Her own rooms would be as darkly colored most likely.

“For now, I’m afraid so,” Grace admitted shamefully. “They aren’t quite finished on remodeling the new chambers for the royal couple, and the rooms that are being converted were the guest rooms in which we would usually accommodate someone of your status. I apologize,” she told Meera. “But it’s only for a few days- You’ll stay in the marriage suite after the wedding of course, and they should be done with the new royal apartments by then.” Her tone implied that men would lose their jobs- and possibly their heads - if that was not the case.

“It is cozy your grace, far cozier than sleeping in a carriage I can tell you that. Though the fire was warm and the company pleasant, Lord Emerson and even the Captain kept me good company. I learned a new Belethan dance or two.” Meera smiled and directed the conversation elsewhere. Her room was indeed far better than a carriage and nothing to complain about if she is only staying there for a couple of days. She wanted to inquire as to why new rooms are being converted for the King and herself but she felt that was a question best left for her own ladies.

“I got to ride until we crossed the border, and then became confined unfortunately, so I didn’t get to see as much of Beleth as I might have liked, but there’s time for that I suppose. The Captain was very insistent after all.” She motioned for them to sit over where there were cushions. They were big, fluffy ones from Theren. Her ladies had set up her room here where they could it seemed.

“He can be a bit overbearing in his protection at times,” Grace admitted with an eyeroll. “But I’m glad you are safe, and that you didn’t allow his caution to sour your opinion of him too badly,” she noted, pleased that Meera spoke somewhat positively of Avery. She’d been so sure he’d make a complete ass of himself. “Vee can still be so terribly awkward at times, I’m awfully glad to hear you found him good company!”

Meera was again confused as to why it was terribly important that she found him good company, why the Princess should be concerned with that specifically. Perhaps he was being assigned to her personal guard? In that case it would make more sense perhaps, but before she could ask anything Lady Nyme interjected.

“By the way, they haven’t let us move anything in there or even see the rooms, which is annoying considering that is what we came here ahead of time to do in the first place.” Lady Nyme complained loudly pouting. “Specifically Lady Roysa, she stops us at every attempt as if it were her personal mission to keep us away. You probably won’t like her company very much. Not many do.”

Grace gave no sign that she agreed nor disagreed with the criticism of her aunt- In face she acted as though she had simply not heard it at all, though she had been a moment before been nodding in agreement with Nyme’s frustration at not being allowed into the rooms. She was used to people finding Roysa abrasive, and she could not entirely fault them for it.

“It is a strike of fortune that we came ahead of time, perhaps. Considering what happened…” Lady Veora moved up to her right side, to get a better view of her shoulder. “They cut you? They didn’t tell us you were hurt.” Her long fingers elegantly hovered over her stitches.

“Were you in the carriage during the attack?! How did they get you.” Lady Mercy exclaimed.

Meera’s mouth popped open and shut again a few times, feeling for some reason that it was difficult to speak up about what had happened.

“Oh, how awful,” Grace exclaimed, equally horrified to see the Queen’s injury. “I will let one of our physicians know they should come check on you at your earliest convenience and ensure it continues to heal properly,” she declared.

“Oh, I must excuse myself, forgive me,” she said, realizing she had yet to take a seat with the other ladies and remembering that had been intentional on her part- She had things to attend to before dinner, and also Roysa had chastised her for not giving the Theren ladies much space.

“Do not hesitate to ask for anything that you and your ladies cannot find,” she said, though she thought the ladies in question would likely be fine. They were fast learners, and made Grace wish that Beleth nobility had similar counterparts.

“I look forward to seeing you again soon,” Grace told her future sister in law with a smile, taking the older woman’s hands in her own again and squeezing tightly before bowing her head and exiting the suite.

Meera squeezed her hands back, the ladies all chirping their goodbyes, she was pleased to see that they all seemed to get along well. They all held their breath a moment until she was truly gone.

“I like the Princess, a bit annoying, but so is Mercy and I like her now just fine.” Nyme teased, Mercy’s leg shot out to kick her skirts lightly.

“Oh you’re annoying come here.” Meera looped one arm around Lady Veora and held her other open to hug her ladies properly. They popped up and hugged like their lives depended on it. As used to court manners as they all were they were grateful to let those slip away when in each other’s company.

“I really am grateful that you were not with me. Truly, I don’t know what I would have done if any of you got hurt because of me… Reya is dead. A few men. It was awful I could barely…” Meera began once they all let go.

“They killed Reya? Bastards.”

“Mercy, language.” Veora corrected.

“Sorry, those BLOODY bastards. Reya was such a good natured mare she didn’t deserve to be killed by awful traitors like that.” Mercy fumed.

“Didn’t you have your sword with you?” Nyme asked carefully. “Did you have to…”

“No, I didn’t… I chose not to because I was determined to say goodbye to the people without anything intimidating getting in the way. But… maybe that was foolish but I tell you Nyme that wouldn’t have helped me. It’s different than in the courtyard it’s… it’s different.” Meera tried to explain, not wanting to scandalize her ladies with the gorey truth. She felt strange now having experienced something they hadn’t, like her eyes were opened to an awful truth. One she wanted to protect them from.

“Naturally, it would be. None of us has ever been on a battlefield before how could we possibly imagine. It’s all fun and games in the courtyard but real battle is going to be much dirtier and gruesome. Remember the fields we traveled past? Imagine that but filled with dead men.” Veora said, and perhaps Meera had not given her enough credit, of course Veora in all her thoughtful wisdom would understand better.

“That’s really dark.” Mercy mentioned as they grew quiet.

“Lovely way to kill the mood sister.” Nyme jokes, rewarded with some uneasy laughter.

“Enough of that let us not talk of that anymore, it happened and it was gruesome and I still live. Happy that we are all well. Now; about the court.” Meera straightened her skirts, eyeing them all.

“Lords and Ladies have arrived in droves. Since we couldn’t fix your rooms for you we decided instead to divide the court and begin making acquaintances.” Veora began.

“We focused on Ladies, heads of houses, the men don’t seem too eager to hold a grudge against us mere Ladies in waiting, especially once we get them talking. But the Ladies are more difficult to win over. Except for my sister apparently.” Nyme winked.

“That isn’t even true.” Veora countered quickly.

“I don’t know Veora I think some of them really like you, you seem to draw ladies to you. I’ve told you that before haven’t I?” Mercy mentioned.

“That’s because our Veora is as elegant as they come.” Meera made a kissy face at her blushing lady and tweaked her chin.

“And much too good for any man anyway.” Nyme agreed.

“Sing my praises all night if you like but shouldn’t we move on to specifics?” Veora changed the subject. Uncomfortable with the attention.

“Well there aren’t really are there? We’ve been here about a week, enough to memorize names and a few facts. None of us has been invited to dine with anyone yet.” Nyme slumped back.

“I went into the city, had to snag a maid’s dress for that but I explored-”

“By yourself Mercy?! That’s dangerous this isn’t Delphi.” Meera exclaimed.

“We told her that when she got back believe me.” Veora’s voice lowered.

“I told Veora we should tan her hide for running off like that.”

“Before everyone lobs my head off perhaps we can all recall that I am not a child anymore and that I am excellent and talented and clever and-” Mercy defended herself, gesturing wildly.

“And in a country that you don’t know, in a city you’ve never been in before and without concerned guards we can trust to go look for you if anything should happen.” Meera interrupted her.

“Yes well, I did find out that the merchants are all very excited at the prospect of opening trade to the south with Theren. So there.” She fired back.

“The merchants… hm.” Meera smiled. “That is a good find. You are not under any circumstances going alone ever again but, that was excellent work.”

“And there are many temples and gods here that you could pay homage to. People would like that I think.” Mercy added.

“Yes the Captain told me of a few of them, we should all make a visit soon. The trouble will be in choosing which one.” Meera mused.

“The Great Goddess, you have to go to her first, and we have to make an offering. She is the main one, apparently it would be improper to honor other without honoring her first.” Mercy explained, before grabbing her stomach, which made a noise they could all hear. “Oh spirits I’m going to die of hunger.”

“No dying, I need all of you. Thank you all for your efforts, inform me as soon as any of you is formally invited to dine with anyone. Continue to be my eyes and ears, I should like a description of the heads of houses tomorrow. For now, order some food to be brought here while I freshen up for the Princess, and send word that I’ll be arriving in an hour’s time to meet her for dinner. That physician should be here soon too.” Meera got up.

“We’re staying here tonight?” Mercy asked.

“Of course we are, Lord Blackbird protected her honor on the trip, it is up to us to continue to do so before the wedding.” Veora explained while she helped her up off of the cushions.

“Tomorrow we shall meet with Lord Blackbird to discuss strategy, you all might be sent into the city in the evening.” Meera mentioned as she began brushing her hair. Veora coming over to take over and braid it back in some elegant fashion.

“Imagine his surprise when I tell him I already know the city like the back of my hand.” Mercy bragged, exaggerating heavily.

“See if he doesn’t yell at you for doing such a bullheaded thing too.” Nyme scoffed, earned chuckles from everyone but an offended Mercy.

"I'll just order food I like and damn the rest of you see how you like that." She threatened.

code by Ri.a

 

[jones573]

“And this is just the least of it, just one example,” Lady Roysa explained angrily, showing her nephew the plaster molding she had brought to his room, painted white with gold gilding along its raised edges. “The whole thing was a disaster!”



As far as Avery could tell, the piece looked fine. Except for the fact that it wasn’t currently in place along the upper wall of his future wife’s public sitting room.



He stared blankly between the and his aunt, waiting on an explanation, as one of his manservants, Maxwell, helped him into clothes more suited for life at the castle instead of on the road.



“Oh, for the- It’s shoddy workmanship, Averett,” she told him, pointing with emphasis. “The edges are undefined, the gilding has been applied sloppily- One of your bannermen could have done better drunk off his ass, and at least he would have actually been trying! I realize you are not exactly an artisan, but even you would have been able to note the difference between your rooms and the queen’s, trust me.”



“Then make the inferior rooms mine,” Avery said, the suggestion seeming obvious to him. “I hardly care what they look like!”



If Roysa had seemed disappointed in him previously, she now looked appalled at his stupidity.



“Maxwell,” she said impatiently. “How many clothes does His Majesty have?”



“A great many,” Maxwell replied evenly. “But not nearly as many as Her Majesty will have,” he added, aware of the answer Lady Roysa wanted. “Her dressing chambers will also house the wardrobe of the children, until they are moved out of the nursery, and so is larger for that reason as well.”



“The nursery which is connected to both her dressing chambers and her private sitting room,” Roysa continued.



“Her rooms are specifically for her beyond just the decor, you cannot swap them, I understand,” Avery tried to abort the lecture.



“And moreover, what would be the point of having Theren design elements in your rooms, as you ‘hardly care what they look like’, as you have so tactfully pointed out-”



“That is not what I meant and you know it,” he corrected his aunt, and she pursed her lips. He appreciated the effort and oversight she put into things he would have no understanding of, and hadn’t meant to belittle her.



She huffed slightly, but softened.



“I have been frustrated,” she admitted. “And quite worried,” she added, reaching up to place her palm along her nephew’s cheek. “And it will be some time, before I forgive you for scaring an old woman the way you have, just this last week alone.”



“Understandable,” Avery allowed with a small smile, patting his aunt’s hand before she dropped it and resumed the more severe expression associated with presence. “And how much time will it be before the royal apartments are forgiven- Or at least, ready to be occupied?”



“A few days after the wedding, I think-”



“Days after? We can’t move her back into some subpar guest suite once she’s queen, that would be insulting-”



“Nonsense, she can stay in the marriage suite while we put on the finishing details-”



“No she can’t,” Avery corrected, like his aunt was now the one who wasn’t thinking things through. “If she’s in the marriage suite then I have to be too-”



Roysa turned a withering stare on him, and he balked.



“That is the general point of a marriage suite, yes,” she pointed out.



“A night and a day! That’s what I agreed to, that is what is traditional,” Avery protested, though it was true that some couples spent much longer in their marriage suite. There were not to be disturbed except by fresh food and little else until they emerged together, and many newlyweds took advantage of the chance to be sequestered for a variety of reasons. “I’m not locking her in there with me for a week like-”



“Like you’re a recently wed couple who might like to enjoy each other’s company? Gods forbid that,” Roysa said dryly. “We could stand for a little speculation, that you can’t keep your hands off each other. We could also stand for it to be more than speculation,” she added somewhat crassly, and Avery flushed red.



Avery might have thought his aunt had arranged this all to her likely to exactly this effect, except he knew her better- Roysa liked having a plan, and hated having it go awry. The plan was for the apartments to have been ready before Meera arrived so she could move directly in and get settle while Avery still lived in another wing, and Roysa would have been horrified to have had to alter that plan. Especially if it meant putting the future queen in relatively simple rooms, the more elaborate guest suites already gone to the nobility who’d arrived early in the week.



“I only wish I had caught it earlier,” Roysa sighed. “If I had been more careful in my oversight, we might have saved a lot of trouble- As it is, we are scaling down on the Theren decorative elements. I trust this new team more,” she allowed, and she was right to- The artisans who’d perfected the king’s rooms and been careless with the queen’s were unlikely to practice their chosen profession in Beleth ever again, whereas the men most recently hired had been promised future jobs at the castle if they performed to expectation. “But with the time and their unfamiliarity with some of the techniques, I’m afraid my original vision won’t be possible.”



“Well, just get it done as quickly as it can be,” Avery conceded, and then added, “Without sacrificing quality, of course!,” before Roysa could chastise him.



“Her ladies have been bleating at my skirts about it like a herd of goats, do not suppose I am unaware of the grief this has caused,” his aunt said. “They have raised as much stink about it as can be done politely, though I think they should like to do more.”



“You told them you fired the original crew?,” he asked in surprise. It was unlike his aunt to admit to anything going wrong, much less explaining it.



“Of course not! I won’t have them knowing,” she warned him. “The disrespect on the part of the artisans was monumental, and it reflects poorly on us as well.”



Avery shrugged, knowing better than to argue on this.



“Maxwell, could have dinner brought for my aunt and myself,” he prompted the servant. He’d had her summoned to find out why the royal apartments hadn’t been finished, but he knew they had enough to discuss to fill a meal, but his aunt shook her head.



“You’ve accepted an invitation to dine with Duke YetUnnamed and his family and some of their friends- Oh, don’t ‘tsk’ at me, the man could prove to be a very useful ally and he so rarely comes to court, we must take advantage of the opportunity! Turn, please,” she asked, and Avery turned his back to his aunt, crouching as he went. He’d been taller than her for years and years now, so it was habit at this point.



His hair was still a bit damp from the cleaning Maxwell had given it earlier but not much, and Roysa combed her fingers through it a few times before braiding it neatly and tying it off with a short gold ribbon. She dropped a kiss to the top of his head- or really, several inches in the air above it- and he stood up again.



“I am very glad to have you home, Avery,” she told him with the slightest hint of a smile. “Now do get going- The Duke is expecting you in the Maple Dining Hall before the end of the hour.”



Avery swore, throwing on his jacket as he hurried out the door, his attendant and the guards who’d been waiting just outside quickly falling into his wake.

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle
Interacting: Queen Meera, Captain Davita & Queensguard members

The castle at Redhill had an abundance of many things, and one of those things was guards- The royal guard in particular, dominated the halls with their short black tunics over their outfits, a golden and white cross meeting over their chest. In addition to their general force, they had more specific divisions- The Redhill palace guard, for instance, which stayed at the castle even when the royal family did not. The family guard, which had as many sub units as there were members of the family to be protected, and whose coordinated approval was needed for all joint adventures outside the walls of Redhill. And of course, the Kingsguard and the Queensguard.


The Kingsguard also work black tunics, though they had only one diagonal band in gold, running from their left shoulder to their right hip. The Queensguard tunics were similar, but with a white band running the opposite direction- And far less frequently used in recent years.


The group that had escorted the Princess, Meera and her ladies to the guest suite had been compromised of 6 guards in a variety of uniforms, though Grace’s guards had left with her. But the four who had been in the suite’s guardroom when the ladies had passed through it into their chambers were not the ones waiting there when the exited.


Instead there seven, and all of them wore the white band from the right shoulder, and stood crisply at attention when Meera entered.


“Your Highness,” said the woman in the center of them, and all seven bowed in unison.


The woman who’d spoken was tall, with skin as dark as Avery or Grace’s but in a different tone. She had glossy black hair, pulled atop her head in a bun. She was clearly in charge based on the way she held herself and in the way she was decorated, with golden ribbons pinned on her breast. Another man had one pin, but none of the others.


“I am Davita Peirse,” she announced. “And I am to be Captain of your Queensguard until such a time as you release me from my oath. This is one of your lieutenants,” she said, gesturing at the man with the single ribbon. “My men and I are committed to your service and protection, which may also extend to any of your ladies, attendants, and servants,” she continued, though there was at least one other woman in the group. It was perhaps a coincidence that she looked in Mercy’s direction when she mentioned Meera’s ladies.


Who had the personal wherewithal to at least divert her eyes to the ground, even if she did not look contrite.


“My deepest apologies that I was not available to greet you upon your arrival, as I was in a meeting regarding security arrangements for your wedding. I have also been occupied with selecting guards for your unit, as it is not yet complete,” Davita admitted. “With Your Highness’s allowance, I would like to speak with the guards of Theren who have arrived with you so that I might offer them positions with the Queensguard.”


Despite her speech, Davita did not seem to be a woman of many words- It seemed rehearsed, as though she had practiced what she might say. She had come to a point, though, where she could either finish talking or carry on, and she had still not decided which she would do even when she had bowed to Meera.


She took a deep breath and continued.


“I am unfamiliar with the relationship between guards and their charges in Theren,” Davita said hesitantly. “But your Queensguard is a physical protection- We are like a locked door, or an armored breastplate. You do not need to learn our names,” she told Meera. “Or concern yourself with our scheduling.”


That was all Davita’s job.


“And like a door or a breastplate, what you do and what you say is of little concern to us,” she said, which was the point she had wanted to make. If Meera wished to badmouth Beleth or the King, the Queensguard would not repeat it. If Meera took a lover, they would not report it. Unless she compromised her safety or that of the castle and its occupants, the members of the Queensguard would say nothing of what passed while they were on shift.


If they did, Davita would have them released from their oaths, and publicly flogged. At minimum.


“Thank you Captain Davita, may I call you by your first name? It’s a particularly pretty one, it’d be a shame not to use it.” Meera held her hands loosely in front of her while being presented her official guard. Patient with the speech until the Captain was fully finished.


“Of course,” Davita replied.


“If you are all anything like the soldiers of Beleth I have already met then I am confident that you both mean what you say and will do your duty with pride. I accept your service and will endeavour to make your job as easy as I can. My Lord Cromwell will speak with you regarding the men brought with us from Theren, I have no objections and I am sure neither will he.” Although not precisely expecting this right now, she did know that eventually some sort of guard would be presented to her, and in contrast to the Captain her own words seemed to flow rather easily.

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle
Interacting: Queen Meera, Princess Grace

Meera was led through the palace halls by her guard, attempting to make note of the winding halls in order to learn the layout. It had been quite a number of years since she’d had to learn the layout of a new palace, comfortable with knowing Delphi’s castle intimately. She’d chosen a shawl to wear, as it was cold and she was beginning to realize that her wardrobe was most likely not going to be sufficient here. As much as she loved the feel of silk it did little to guard someone from chill.


She told herself that this was fine, that a change of wardrobe was expected of her, but the more she thought of it the more she found herself forlorn. Her home was gone, Reya was gone, and now her clothes would be too. Perhaps modifications could be made or her clothes could be repurposed or any number of alternatives. There was a purple dress in particular that she would be loathe to give up, another in blue yet another in gold that she would probably keep. Perhaps to wear in summertime. Or perhaps she was being too hasty altogether, she’d keep her clothes out of spite if she became miserable and hopeless. So that was an option. Though not one she should be entertaining while on her way to meet the Princess for dinner.


She shouldn’t be entertaining failure when she had to nurture an alliance, and ancestors help her, produce heirs. Unless thing were going to get particularly ugly she had to come to terms with seducing a King, even if only temporarily. She knew how to seduce, and she knew how to do it well. Meera wasn’t under any impression that she was not attractive, accustomed to praises of the opposite effect actually, and had not actually ever been told no. Perhaps once, or maybe twice, but that was when she was very young and flirting with boys too young to know how to tangle in the sheets anyhow. Her Theren dresses in contrast to Belethan ones would help her a great deal in her endeavors to that end at least. How complicated could this King be anyhow?


Grace’s apartments were relatively small- The guardroom, a public sitting room, her more private study, her bathing and dressing chamber, and her bedroom. But her sitting room was quite large and splendid with a private terrace overlooking the city, and the room was big enough for low tables to be set next to the couches and loaded with food and amphoras of watered wine. Her walls were panels of light wood with minimal carving, set in with shelves at frequent intervals. Which Meera admired, as it was in contrast to the dark surroundings she’d seen in the castle thus far.


She had filled the space of the walls with beautiful tapestries and canvases from artisans she patroned, and the shelves with all manner of things. A few books, of course- Classic poetry and plays that she had been fond of as a child, enough so that she had gotten her own copies. These days she read much less, especially for pleasure, and she had only two tomes borrowed from the castle’s enormous library, both of which were lying under scrolls in her study.


To make up for the lack of books, there were vases of fresh flowers and vases of dried flowers, carved wooden horses and cats of all sizes and shapes, smooth stones and shells she’d found at low tide, unusual trinkets from across Beleth and the region that loved ones had brought her from travels, and small sketches and paintings of a more amateur nature compared to the art on the walls. It was a bit eclectic, but not so distracting as to be overwhelming.

Her windows overlooked the city below, and in one windowsill was a sleek gray cat, napping peacefully opposite the crudest of the wooden horses in the room.


“Come in, come in! Do make yourself comfortable,” Grace told Meera and her retinue. “Would you care for some wine?”


“I would be delighted.” Meera looked around the room as she approached Princess Grace, holding out her hands to squeeze her’s affectionately. “Your rooms are quite beautiful if I do say so myself, you’re a fan of the arts I noticed? Ah, that one in particular is… are those?” Meera began to comment on her room’s decoration when she focused on the wooden figures.


“Wooden horses?” She felt her heart freeze as she said it, looking at the herd of crafted steeds dotting her room, “That’s... such a coincidence, Captain Vee told me he carved wooden horses for his younger sister. He showed me one he was working on while on the road.” Meera felt the bitter hollowness of her own words as she said them, any semblance of a smile beginning to fall from her face as she said it.


The Princess Grace hugging him so familiarly, the closeness of him to their party once they reached the castle, even the way Lord Cromwell listened to him without question during their trip. His manners, his eloquence of speaking, his words, his command. She’d written all of that off in favor of trusting what she had been told, and moreover trusting that her Chancellor knew what was going on and would have informed her if there was deceit at play. She had written all of the suspicious queues off so easily.


She had opened up to him! Shared with him her anxieties and fears at one point. It all clicked in place in her mind without confirmation from the Princess, but Meera needed that confirmation nonetheless. She looked to the young girl’s face, searching for it there.


Grace was pouring cups of wine for them and had been facing away- Perhaps she hadn’t heard exactly what Meera had said, but she certainly didn’t seem to find it odd. She chuckled lightly.


“Another one? I must have told him a dozen times, I’m not exactly his baby sister anymore- I’ve no more use for them as toys, and I’m running out of space for them as decoration,” she laughed.


Meera straightened and nodded, sucking in air from her nose and calming herself down, suddenly very grateful to be drinking wine soon.


“I think Ave’y just does it out of habit, to give himself something to do while he’s on the road,” she allowed, passing the a cup to Meera. Tutors had eventually corrected her tendency to leave out her ‘R’ sounds and she could enunciate beautifully when speaking in front of the courtiers, but she still swallowed it a bit on her brother’s nickname, revealing where the further derivative ‘Vee’ had come from.


“Aunt Roysa nearly fainted in anger, when he informed her he would be leading the guard unit responsible for your journey,” she admitted with an amused huff. “I’ll confess I wasn’t too pleased on the idea either, but I didn’t waste my breath arguing- Avery takes his times with his decisions, but once it’s made he’s almost impossible to budge. His stubbornness can be endearing, but it can also be very annoying,” she advised her future sister in law. The budget for freshly cut flowers being one example.


’Yes…’ Meera thought to herself, that certainly checked out in consistency.


“But I suppose in this case it worked out for the best,” Grace continued with a hand wave, still oblivious to any distressing realizations. “You’re safe, and the flower vendors got to speak with me, instead of being offended by the obvious disinterest of their king. And you got to speak with each other without the whole court breathing down your neck,” Grace smiled. “That must have been nice!”


“Mm! Mhm, yes, our conversations were very… illuminating. Though to be sure my Lord Blackbird was certainly watching like a hawk. He does that. He notices things. A stickler for propriety.” Meera nodded thoughtfully, looking down at her now empty cup. “But I trust him. So… flower vendors? I do love flowers. Even if I did not want to marry I think I would consent just to drown in flowers as I walked.” She chuckled, changing the conversation sharply before she became angry, helping herself to more wine.


Grace’s smile faltered for a second, but it resolved itself quickly enough, and she nodded in amusement in all the right places as Meera continued.


“I take it then that it’s you that I have to thank for a beautiful wedding? All the better, men never seem have a good eye for ceremony. I went to a royal wedding in Ruhar once and the King had planned it, it was awfully gaudy. I think he thought he could substitute style with sheer gold.” Meera rolled her eyes comically, “Oh spirits I thought I was going to go blind from it, but the feast afterwards was rancorous so it hardly mattered. They sure do know how to have a feast in Ruhar, too well one could say. I should probably not tell you the specifics you’re much too young.” Meera shook her head and covered her mouth with her cup, figuring she’d said enough to warrant handing the conversation over.


Tonight was going to be difficult.


“I suspect my brother has enough of an eye to appreciate beauty, if he lets himself,” Grace said, somewhat knowingly. “But creating it is far beyond his patience! Here, let me show you some of the plans,” she said, spreading sheets of parchment across one of the low tables for them to peruse as they ate. There was everything from flower arrangements to menu plans to travel routes from the castle to the temple for the ceremony and back again for the feasting and celebrating.


“I’ve spoken with your ladies to get their approval, and incorporate some traditions from Theren as well,” Grace explained. It wouldn’t do for the couple’s wedding to be viewed as illegitimate in the eyes of Theren’s people.


“But if anything is truly not to your liking, we still have a bit of time to alter it,” Grace reassured her.


Grateful to have something to focus of Meera peered over the plans. “How interesting, you get married in temples in Beleth? In the presence of Gods and Goddesses?” It was indeed different from marriage in Theren, which consisted of a ceremony done in each own’s respective home. For a royal that meant in the castle’s union hall. Nobles could also hold ceremony there but they weren’t expected to like members of the royal family were.


“Any excuse to go to temple and have a feast,” Grace said with a smile. Among the populace, the gods and goddesses of Beleth were generally a matter of tradition and culture, rather than one of faith and firm beliefs. “Especially in smaller villages, the temple- or whatever they use as one- is the largest space for the community to gather. It was suggested that the ceremony be held here at the castle instead, with an alter instead of the full temple, but tradition won out. Especially for the royal family.”


It was said that Belmys of legend had made the first unpayable debt to the Great Goddess, to defend her people and her land, and she had made him the first King of Beleth, from which all further monarchs were descended.


“It seems to be different altogether in Beleth but I think that is to be expected and I do not anticipate there being much to do about that. Nor does it really matter, as my place is here now. We Princesses current and former must naturally come to expect to marry in a different way than our parents.” Something caught Meera’s eye and she pointed to it, panicking internally.


“Ah there, I see what my ladies did, how clever, the ribbon binding.” Meera didn’t let it show but her heart was racing at this point. “You know I don’t think it really necessary, I appreciate what my ladies are trying to do but I don’t think the nobles are going to understand what the ribbon binding means. It’s unnecessary, we should remove it.” She said casually. “It is better for the people to see I am married the Belethan way. Proudly.”


She didn’t fancy having her wrist tied to her lying husband all night. Being married in Beleth would at least prevent that, silver linings?


Grace nodded in agreement and made a notation. “I had been a bit concerned about how you might eat and dance and such, so I suppose it is for the best.” Presumably the style of entertainment at Theren weddings accommodated for the hand-tying, but not so in Beleth.


“To tell you the truth Princess Graceling, I am nervous. I’m not simply getting married to your… brother, I am being married to Beleth’s people. And right now I am confident that they all but despise me. Which I am unaccustomed to, in Theren I’ve been loved by my people since I was a small child. Here they see me as their enemy. I would like to do here what I’ve done in Beleth to improve the common people’s condition and ensure people prosper. But that can be difficult to do when the common person is against you.” Meera confessed, drawing close and lowering her voice as if someone might hear.


Grace’s expression grew more somber.


“I’m afraid I have no good solution for that,” she admitted. “It may be that one does not exists, except the progress of time. Many people are… Not excited, at the prospect of you being our queen.”


The nobility had wanted one of their own on the throne for their own power, and the smallfolk thought much the same for their pride. To have a foreigner- and one that they had so recently been at war with- hold power over their lives rankled them. And the fact that Avery had offered a treaty and a marriage instead of overruning Theren was also a sore spot, one they could not take out on their king.


“I have had difficulty, thinking of ways you might win people over that they will not see as calculated efforts and only serve to make them distrustful,” Grace said with a frown. “But I can warn you that most believe you will try to use your position to aide Theren in unscrupulous ways, and to whittle away at Avery’s authority. If you avoid the appearance of such things, it may make people less wary of you.”


Meera sighed and looked away a moment, “You mean to say I can not be seen as acting as Queen. I’m to be a dutiful little wife or I’ll be thought of as a snake in the garden… yes I had thought I might run into that problem. The question of how to avoid that has crossed my mind with no perfect answer. Perhaps I am doomed to sit in my rooms and do nothing all day lest I anger one person or another.” Meera joked, rolling her eyes, “Would you keep me company occasionally if it came to that?” She hadn’t, actually, thought of that in particular, but realized she would need to scramble to find a way to still be effective while not overtly seemed as though she were pulling strings. The Princess’s description of what people would think of her were not entirely wrong, Meera was here to benefit Theren, and Beleth, she didn’t see why the two needed to be mutually exclusive.


“Of course I would keep you company!” Grace seemed horrified to think otherwise. “But I do not think it will come to that,” she added. “I agree it will be a tricky balancing act, especially at first, but I do not think you are expected to do nothing.”


That her brother might only want a trophy of his victory and not a true queen had apparently never occurred to the young girl.



There were things Beleth needed right now that Theren had, and could trade for things they needed. Currency, was one of those things, while Theren had not suffered in terms of money Beleth must have. No instead Theren had been starved out and cage in on all sides, bereft of trade or the ability to buy grain when they needed it the most. Meaning this year’s crop was sure to be poor. Perhaps the difference would best be bought from Beleth instead of Ruhar, their usual go to when grain was necessary. Yes, she would have Cromwell write up the particulars for such a proposal.


“I don’t suppose going into the city often might be a good idea? Your city here is in very close proximity to the castle, it isn’t so in Delphi, there’s woods that separate us and our capital. I thought it might be a good idea to pay homage to various temples, perhaps if people become accustomed to my presence they’ll like me a little better?”


“... There would security concerns,” Grace hedged, clearly not in a position to say if it would be allowed. “A royal visit can be a disruptive presence, which may not be viewed favorably,” she reasoned. Any goodwill the Queen might gain by speaking with shop owners in their stores might be lost to the hassle of having their store closed and searched through by the guard.


Security concerns, the Captain and she were truly related weren’t they. “Members of the royal family do not simply walk amongst the cityfolk of their capital? But how do they come to know you?” Meera’s brow furrowed, confused, “Must it be a disruptive affair every time I want to go into the city? Can I not simply choose to go out?” She pressed, a little alarmed at the prospect of truly living in a room, however nice that room might be.


“There is at least one petitioner's court day every week, so that the common people can bring their complaints and disagreements to the throne,” Grace explained. Though such things were usually settled at more local levels, and the only the more extreme situations arrived at Redhill for review. She seemed a bit confused by Meera’s own confusion- The people knew their monarchs by the state of the bridges and roads, and the efficiency with which land disputes were settled, and if taxes on grain were lowered to reflect a drought. Not by speaking with them personally.


“Queen Meera,” Grace said hesitantly, struggling with what to say. “I do not mean to be rude and imply you are naive, but… Beleth is a large country, and it is dangerous. Even the most beloved of monarchs have enemies, from within our borders and outside them. Whole branches of our family line have been cut short by the machinations of others,” she advised. Her great uncle, who’d been killed by a duke scheming to marry his son to the princess. An aunt she’d never met. Her eldest brother.


“There was an attempt on my life, even, when I was young,” Grace confessed. “And I was still the younger child of a second wife,” she explained. She’d been fourth in line for the throne, and hardly important in terms of her influence among the other nobles. “Your security detail exists because the danger does.”


Meera reached over and touched Grace’s hand gently, “You must forgive me Princess, I am not accustomed to Beleth. I forget that you and your brother have lost many mothers and siblings, though I did not ever know the details there were rumors… in Delphi, it was very different. My mother and I were in the city at least once a week with little issue. I’ll learn the ways of Beleth in due time.” She felt badly for the Princess, both for having a knife constantly over her head and for having lost so much.


Beleth’s numerous Queens of the past, Meera wondered if she would be dispensed of as quickly as they were.

 

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle
Interacting: Avery, Emerson, Maxwell the manservant


"Lord Emerson, Your Majesty," Maxwell announced and Avery's posture went from rigid and formal, to much more relaxed as he slumped back in his chair.

Thanks the gods.

"Good afternoon, my esteemed and beloved king. Blessings to you in celebration of this most auspicious occasion," Emerson said with a measure of mocking ceremony, before sprawling himself across one of the chaises in the chamber. Avery stood instead, and began pacing the length and width of the small parlor with long strides.

He'd been cooped in the sitting room for hours now, receiving guests and well wishers and exchanging nearly identical pleasantries with each appointment.

They were honored to be in attendance for the momentous occasion of his wedding. He was honored they were able to attend.

If they had come from far away, he might ask how their travels had been. If they were more local, they instead might comment that it seemed the nice weather would hold for the ceremony.

How terrible, they all agreed, that the new Queen had been attacked. How fortunate Avery had been there to ensure no harm came to her. Some of his nobles he watched more suspiciously during this particular exchange, but he could no discern any ingenuity that was not normally present.

They had gifts for the Queen and for the couple which required his approval, which he gave almost unilaterally. Maxwell took careful notes on all of it- This evening he would need to go through it with Roysa to confirm which sheaths of grain and fine livestock would be incorporated into the sacrifice at the temple and then the feast, and other such decisions.

"I've been in here for hours," Avery groaned. "I'm almost looking forward to meeting with the ministers- At least it will be a break!"

"Oh, you know what else you could do to give yourself a break, that no one would fault you for," Avery suggested coyly, feeding himself some grapes. "Visit with Queen Meera!"

"She's as busy as I am," Avery replied quickly. "She has to go through the details of the ceremony, and the tailors insist on making sure the things they've made for her wardrobe fit perfectly."

"The tailors are accustomed to doing fittings even when their model's attention is elsewhere," Emerson pointed out. "And I seem to recall you being King- You could order them to stand down for a bit. She might appreciate the break."

Avery had stopped his pacing, and was looking out the window onto the city's harbor, the last point in the river wide and deep enough to travel by a ship that might also be used at sea.

"She's angry at me," he finally said.

Emerson rolled his eyes, though his friend didn't see. What. An. Idiot.

"Oh, and avoiding her is your clever strategy to somehow make her less angry with you? What a novel tactic," Emerson said dryly, continuing to help himself to Avery's food.

Avery didn't respond, so Emerson eventually continued.

"You don't really know how angry she is with you, because you haven't actually talked to her. Do you really want the next time you are able to speak with her privately to be when the door the marriage suite is locked behind you and you have no one else to talk to and no where else to go?"

"The royal couple gets to meet with an advisor as needed," Avery pointed out. It wasn't like there would be truly no escape from each other.

"I believe that's usually phrased as 'has to'," Emerson pointed out. "And even so, they won't offer any relief until at least early afternoon. Go talk to her, Avery."

"Maxwell, what am I doing after this," Avery asked his manservant. He looked annoyed to be called upon but not surprised.

"You are to be receiving guests until two, Your Majesty, and then you have a meeting with the ministers. Dinner will be followed by a review of the guard and security arrangements for tomorrow's ceremony, and then the Lady Roysa is going to go over final details of the sacrifices. You've also requested to speak with the physician who saw to the boy Alexander- We could do that after your meeting with Lady Roysa, but then you will likely not be able to make it down to the stables before the horses are put away, so perhaps could join you for dinner-"

"Maxwell, I know you to be talented enough to find ten minutes of spare time for the King to visit his bride, and I'm sure you agree with me that he should go visit her-"

"Don't bring Maxwell into this," Avery warned and Emerson stuck out his tongue.

"You brought him into it first, making him recite a schedule you made yourself-"

A guard entered and spoke softly to Maxwell, who nodded.

"Your Majesty, Baroness Ellini of Merid has arrived," the manservant announced, and both the king and the bastard lord flinched.

"Well, that's my cue to leave if I ever heard one," Emerson said hastily, gathering himself up and clasping his friend's shoulder. Ellini terrified him, and he didn't think Avery was much braver.

"Talk to her," Emerson advised again. "While it's still something you chose to do, instead of have to."

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Avarett

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: King Averett

She did not tell anyone.

Not a soul.

Normally she would have fumed to her ladies, her confidantes, there was little she did not tell them. But she was mortified, and angry, and felt robbed of whatever advantages she thought she might have over the King. The later part being the most egregious of offenses. That was perhaps chiefly why she refused to disclose her grievances, a part of her knew she was justified in her anger and a part of her knew she was being a sore loser. Especially when she took into account how the King had saved her life. Then again he was the reason it was in danger anyway.

Granted, just because you save someone’s life doesn’t mean you should put up with their appalling behavior, and the more time passed between her arrival and lack of audience with the King the more appalling it became. She simply ask for it. But her pride refused such a thing. He had to know she would find out eventually. She did not detect cruelty in his manner when she was speaking with him before but then again she did not know him, not really. So who could be sure that this wasn’t all just an elaborate act? The thought of it all made her emotionally exhausted and in order to deal with it she decided to compartmentalize it. She had things to do, things to learn, despite what she was here for or maybe because of it the King himself mattered little in the next few days.

And then there was Alexander, who she and her ladies had fallen quickly for. Mercy was quick to point out that as Queen, Meera did not necessarily need to part ways with him. Perhaps she was waiting for permission or simply had too much to think about, but it became clear in that moment that she wouldn’t. The boy had little to inherit, and he did not know his neighbors terribly well, he could be raised next to her, by her, to become something beyond what his parents had hoped for him. Her own Lord Blackbird was common born, an orphan himself, and look what he had become.

With that in mind she had him moved to her already crowded chambers, his injuries were healing well and he ate well too, there was little need for him to stay with the palace physician. The castle was much too busy for anyone to really take notice of the move. And that was exactly what Meera had hoped for.

Much tutelage by way of Belethan weddings and many fittings later Meera found herself in a heavy dress of black and gold, her soon to be husband’s family colors, a veil of gold and tiara on top of her pulled back curls. They rode into the city in open topped carriages, separate, this was easily her favorite part. She waved to the people she passed and accepted flowers from children, aware that the people’s happiness was likely due to the King, but happy to accept it nonetheless.

All too soon the ride was over and she stood next to King Avery as a priestess of the great goddess’s temple spoke to them and a crowd of people behind them, did everything she was taught, and was married. All while managing to barely look in her husband’s direction, a picture of serene regality she had practiced in the mirror countless times even before coming to Beleth. Meera, after resigning herself to her fate months ago, had decided that at the very least she would be a dignified and perfect Queen. She would have one chance at a first impression, and say what they may, she would not let whatever slander whispered behind her back ring with truth. No, if they wanted to slander her they would have to lie about it.

The ceremony was long, and her dress had many layers, something she had been ill prepared for considered her usual attire of thin silky fabrics that felt weightless compared to all of this, but she endeavored to be still through it despite all of that. There was still a feast to get through, and then she could collapse in a bed, undisturbed if she had anything to say about it.

Finally it all ended, and they rode back to the castle for the feast, this time together. The open casket ensured that Meera did not need to speak to Avery, and just as well since she had nothing to say to him.

When they got to the castle Meera was livened up, responding to her cooing ladies and and saying a quick word to Alexander before leaving him with Veora to take back to her room for a nap and dinner, he was forced to sit quietly in the crowd through that whole ceremony poor boy. He deserved a break. Besides, he didn’t officially really have a place at the feast, even if the addition of one quiet boy would hardly be noticable.

The royal couple were rushed off to the feast, where toasts were given infrequently amongst the eating for a while before the mingling and dancing finally began. Which was when Meera really needed to shine.

Ignoring the King and only speaking to him formally when he addressed her came extremely easily as it turned out. She needed only to pretend she did not know him, which was accurate, and the ice in her veins helped that notion along.

It wasn't that Avery was uncomfortable with finery. He wasn't new to being King, and he'd been a prince his whole life. He'd been wearing suits of black and gold since he was old enough to wear breeches.

The jacket he wore to the wedding, he'd worn before- To his coronation. Gold embroidery in the laurel pattern ringed the collar, a decorative embellishment to be worn only by the royal family. Some might dare to wear a laurel pattern in gold at the shoulders or above, but they were always careful that the leaves pointed away from the face, and even that was quite presumptuous.

The pants were new- The previous ones had been black with minimal decoration, and he'd circulated them amongst his other nice pants, and they were less nice now. These had embroidery to match the coat, and he couldn't imagine wearing them for even the most formal of every day wear.

The shirt he wore beneath was definitely new. It was rather thin white linen, and designed with no buttons or clasps. Meant to be easily removed. Underclothes and nightthings worn by and given to Belethan newlyweds- hell, even parts of an outer outfit, gifted by someone pushing for an heir- were often designed in a similar fashion, with the same goal. Especially for the men. Clothing for the women often had more fabric than was necessary, to be pulled tight and tied back as was needed to accommodate a growing waist in the months following the wedding- And in many cases, prior to the event as well.

Avery appreciated the tactical advantages of these strategies, even if he had no interest in their practical application.

Avery was, he reminded himself more than once, accustomed to finery. All these clothes had been tailored to him, so he had no need to worry he might tear something if he stood or sat too quickly, and he knew how to hold his wine cup and lift his food so as to minimize the risk of staining the clothes. He was used to having his hair pulled back in a much more stylish braid than what he usually wore, and the golden crown being rested on his brow. He was only being self conscious.

But it was so incredibly easy for him to be self-conscious. His aunt and his sister wore their dresses with an ease he doubted he’d ever be able to replicate, and looked like they belonged anywhere they chose to go, despite their very different demeanors.

Emerson, too, looked completely comfortable with himself, wearing a long belted tunic in green and throwing his arms in laughter around anyone who stood still long enough to allow it. He was colorful in his appearance and his personality, alternating between joyous dances with a variety of partners, bawdy jokes (primarily regarding the various ways in which Avery’s ‘evening performance’ might disappoint the new queen), tricks to entertain the children and elderly, and much more heated dances meant to give gossiping tongues something to wag over. He juggled all of these- and some apples- with apparent ease, and looked completely in his element.

And Meera. Meera looked…. Well.

Beautiful was not quite appropriate, though it was undoubtedly true. Dangerous might be a good addition to start with, though he suspected that danger was limited to him, and seen mostly by him as well.

She was flawless in her role as a bride and a new queen- She smiled like she was happy to be among them, had said her oaths at the temple as though she'd always known them, and participated in the feasting as though the dishes and dances were ones she had spent years enjoying. She hadn't recoiled when he'd pressed his lips to hers after they'd drunk from the ceremonial wine the priestess had given them- She might even have seemed happy to do it, if he didn't know better.

But. He did know better.

There was something in the smile she gave to her ladies and even to Grace, that she did not give to most of the nobility. She gave even less of it when she smiled at him. He couldn't say what it was, except that he was certain it wasn't just his self-conscious nature getting to him.

The sea was beautiful when it was stretched out to one side of you with the low light of the evening, with the sun setting behind the cliffs to the opposite side, the array of colors highlighting the facets of the stones and reflecting across the water. Beautiful and calm and breathtaking, and dangerous.

Avery had been in such a situation before, high in the crow's nest with the scope, where he could see the storm gathering in the eastern dusk- They risked death to sail back out towards the open sea, but risked certain death if they could not make it beyond the cliffs and to safety in time.

It was not a feeling Avery had thought he would experience again, and he did not relish it.

It was unfortunate, Avery thought, how often Emerson was right. He should have talked to her before they’d met at the temple. He could hardly say anything now, even if he could think of anything beyond polite introductions and comments on what course or dance would be next. Most of what he said got equally polite responses and little more. His attempts had generally petered out easily, and he’d let her roam the feast with her ladies, which she was clearly much more comfortable about, only intruding on her presence when it was necessary and trying to make conversation then.

But the day had come and was nearly gone, and he was almost out of chances to speak with her while they both had an easy out- Just a final dance that they shared before they would be escorted to their marriage suite and the festivities would continue on without them. Or, supposedly, they would begin their own festivities, without the presence of their court.

She gave praises on him to others easily, and commented on specific people’s gifts as well. Nyme and Veora reminded her where necessary with a quick whisper who was who. They had greeted quite nearly everyone by now, there was maybe two Lords left, or rather a Duke and a Baroness.

“He’s Lord Yetun, he can eat a potato raw.” Nyme leaned in and said as the Lord drew near, causing Meera to double take in confusion. Why in the world would that be useful information…

“It’s true I’ve seen him do it.” Mercy whispered, as though fascinated.

“The boar spears and pearls.” Veora whispered at the last minute, the only one who said anything remotely useful to the situation.

“Lord Yetun, I’ve heard so much of you.” Meera greeted, “I must thank you for the lovely pearls, and I am sure the King will enjoy the spears, even I admired that they were engraved with such artistic care. Even though I have no hand for hunting.” She noted, cheerfully.

“I am sure your Majesty need not trouble yourself with such a violent sport, otherwise I might have gotten you a set as well.” He joked gruffly.

Meera chuckled and did not show her offense at his obvious dismissal, “They told me you were dignified but they did not tell me you were also of such good humor my Lord, for shame.” She bantered back.

“Your Majesty. Duke Named.” The interruption- and subtle correction of the Duke’s title- came from Lady Roysa, who had appeared without much warning, as she often did. She ducked her head towards Meera and dropped slightly, the nearest approximation of a bow Roysa ever gave to anyone. “I am to escort you to King Averett and present you to the court for your final presentation and dance,” she told Meera.

Cheering went up when Roysa place Meera’s hand in Avery’s and they stepped onto the mostly empty dance floor. Other couples could join the dance later in the song, once Roysa did. People were drunk enough and well fed enough that they did not particularly care what it was they were cheering for at this point in the night- Mostly that the King and Queen would leave soon, and they could dispense with their more formal etiquette.

The music was slower but the volume still loud enough that Meera and Avery could speak without being overheard- Not so loud as to prevent them from overhearing any shouts or jeers from the court, though, including a rather rude one from Emerson about Avery’s dancing being ‘stiff’.

He wasn’t a bad dancer, really, though he lacked the style and finesse of his friend, who was currently grinning widely as he emptied yet another wine cup and was getting perhaps a bit too overly friendly with the son of baron.

Avery tried to glare at him over Meera’s shoulder, though he gave up- Emerson wasn’t paying attention to him, and it would only draw attention.

“I apologize,” Avery said after a moment of silent dancing, Meera’s skirts swinging over his feet with each movement. “For Lord Emerson’s behavior. I’m afraid he can be quite a different character, when exposed to enough wine and certain company.”

What a joke, for a minute she thought he might be taking the opportunity to apologize for his actions then and there. Though this certainly couldn’t be the time or place for such a thing. Admittedly, even if he had her answer would have been the same.

“Unnecessary your Majesty.” Meera said quietly, unconcerned, she focused on her movements, she couldn’t dwell on his words, especially not now. This was the final dance. She had to be perfect.

Why in the world would she give a fig what Lord Emerson was doing? She wasn’t married to Lord Emerson. She had to focus, she reminded herself.

They turned about the floor, and Avery’s mind turned itself over looking for something else to say.

“Did you try the eggplant dish? How was it?”

He’d thought it good, if a bit unusual- It wasn’t a commonly well cultivated vegetable in Beleth.

“Fine your Majesty.” She answered readily, was that all? She didn’t know why she found his comment laughable now when all he’d been able to say to her all night were minor comments about things she already knew or perhaps and introduction or two. At least those had been eventful. A comment about eggplant…

She noticed Lady Roysa take to the floor with her partner, and she smiled, they were almost done, now couples would be joining them and they would be allowed to leave. Why was this perhaps the longest dance she’d ever had? Ridiculous.

“... How have your ladies been enjoying yourself,” he tried. She lit up around her ladies- Surely that was a topic she might have a bit more to say about.

Meera tried to find them on the dance floor discretely but refocused, it wasn’t necessary at the moment, “Well your Majesty.” Her answer sounded a bit too high pitched, she cleared her throat. Glancing at his face for the first time since the dance had started, she had been careful to avoid eye contact she realised. She found now she preferred avoiding it, and went back to doing so. His forehead or shoulder made excellent focal points. Wasn’t this dance almost over?

He had had more productive conversations with a wall, he though, as they lapsed into continued silence. At least he had tried.

“The song will be over soon,” he said, which was obvious enough. The music was already slowing, as was the circling of their rotations. The crowd was once again leaving the dance floor, clearing the way for the couple. At one end of the hall, a group waited to escort them to their marriage suite- At least one member of each of the greater noble families.

Emerson was not among them, but Avery wasn’t overly worried- His friend had done a good job, setting a consistent level of bawdiness to his jokes that others were likely not to cross, as well as establishing the content. All humor was to be at the expense of the King, and not the Queen.

“Shall we, then?”

code by Ri.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Queen Meera & King Avarett

Location: Redhill - The Castle | Interacting with: King Averett

The feeling of being led to the marriage suit, finally, felt akin to marching to a prison cell. At least she would spend her night asleep, as far as she knew they needn’t spend longer than a single night together in it. As far as she knew.

A priestess of the fertility goddess blessed them both, something Meera found humorous if nothing else, and the doors to the room finally shut. And as if holding in a breath, Meera finally allowed her shoulders to slump, sighing deeply and turning around wordlessly, reaching for the nightgown and fumbling with laces behind her back as she moved behind a screen that a few garments had been draped over, which would serve as a barrier between her and Avery. She felt the need to hide her body from him now where she would not usually, the fact that he was her husband making her more self conscious, not less.

The door locked behind them, and Avery threw the lock on their side as well, and listened as the crowd made a crude toast and departed with laughter, waiting until he could no longer hear them to relax. Or relax slightly.

He hadn’t exactly escaped the source of his tension.

He took off his jacket, a bit self conscious of the thin shirt but unwilling to be so godsdamned warm anymore.

“Would you mind if I opened a window, to let a breeze in,” he asked hesitantly, aiming the question in the direction of the changing screen but not quite looking over, in case Meera’s views on modesty were unchanged.

Why were there so many laces, and layers, Meera could not even get through the first one. She became increasingly frustrated, the King’s voice doing absolutely nothing to quell it, quite the opposite. She opened her mouth to snap at him but chose instead to ignore him outright. She had to be more careful with her words.

She’d cut herself out of the damn thing if she could, as beautiful as the dress was she was she was quickly becoming resentful of it. It didn’t represent anything good to her anyhow. At least she could take off her hair ornaments, which she did none too gently, tossing them to a chair near her.

He decided her lack of answer was all the approval he was going to get, and unlatched a shutter to breathe in the fresh night air. He pulled of his boots after a moment’s relief.

After a moment filled with the pings of her hair ornaments dropping, Avery realized she hadn’t neglected to answer because she was angry with him- Or at least, that wasn’t the only reason. She’d been distracted.

“You can’t get out of the dress, can you,” Avery said aloud with a sigh. “Here, let me-”
He turned towards the privacy screen before he could lose his nerve- He’d done this for Grace before, he reminded himself.

Besides, he wanted her to go to bed and fall asleep and stop simmering at him from across the room, and that wasn’t going to happen while she still wore her gown.

“I am perfectly able to get out of the dress myself.” Meera almost shouted, instead sounding stern and offended. The thought of him undressing her scared her more than she thought it would. Where was her courage and boldness now? Was she actually frightened of him? She had slept with men before and she would be doing nothing of the sort tonight. Unless… She couldn’t exactly refuse him if he asked could she. It was required of her, that realization started to make her eyes water. She felt like… like a deer that had been cornered. Absolutely helpless to her fate. She was here, in Beleth, married to the man who had killed her father, annexed her country and was unable to refuse his bed. The realization started to settle in with her in a way it hadn’t before, suddenly feeling much heavier than before.

“Well, let me help you anyways,” he said firmly, startled by her sharpness but already nearly touching her. He swiftly stuck two fingers between the laces of the dressback, one on either side of a crossed point, and wiggled them back and forth to loosen the laces, their short ends getting shorter as he did so. Probably not the best practice for the care and keeping of the dress, but at least it should be easier to get out of.

Meera became stiff as she felt him undo the laces and loosen the bodice, eyes widened in mortification, cheeks an angry red.

“Your bed will be more comfortable without a bodice to disrupt your sleep,” he said by way of apology, turning away as soon as he had determined it to be loose enough for her to manage on her own. He turned his attention instead to his dropped boots, and put them near to the hearth of the fire.

“So I may not even tell you no.” She choked out, shaking, yanking at the dress’s outermost layer to get it off, “Or is it that you think you know what is best.” Anger reared its ugly head, and it gave her boldness, she’d already been shamed tonight it was his turn. All thoughts and consideration of caution had left her by now.

Meera stormed out from behind the screen and chucked the heavy material at Avery, muttering something about having it to wear if he thought he could handle it so well. She retreated back behind the screen to finish undressing.

Wiping at her cheeks she realized there were hot tears rolling down them. As if this situation could not get worse.

Avery caught the corset in surprise. What was he supposed to do with it?

“No! I mean- No, of course you can say no,” he tried to clarify, a bit shocked by her sudden reaction. At least she was reacting, he supposed. “I just thought-”

Well, yes. He had thought he knew what was best. But they would have been standing around for hours otherwise, waiting for her to admit she was being too stubborn!

He sighed, running his hand across his face as he collapsed into one of the chairs in the room. “Listen,” he said cautiously. “I think- Well. We should talk,” he finally said.

Meera scoffed, “Oh now you think we should talk. As opposed to before, when you fed me lies about who you were. And then...” She rounded around the screen again, down to her last layer, one of her shoes in hand, pointing it at him.

“I didn’t-” Well, he did lie, he supposed. “I was not intentionally trying to deceive you, it’s just that announcing myself as King ran contrary to the very purpose of my presence-”

“You have the nerve to never mention once before the wedding that you were King Avarett. What if I had not figured it out by then huh? What do you think would have happened, what do you think people would have thought having your soon to be wife and Queen gaping at you at the temple in front of everyone. It would have humiliated me, and you.” She chucked her shoe at him but it missed him by quite a bit.

He ducked away regardless, looking at her in shock. No one had ever thrown a shoe at him- People did not usually express their anger to him, at least not so physically. Or if they did, they chose a deadlier projectile than a shoe.

“But I suppose that was your aim wasn’t it. Well too bad, my mother raised me to be a Queen and no matter what any of your nobles say no one can claim that I was anything but perfect today. No one.” She finished, her vision blurring with fresh tears.

“Why would I want to humiliate you,” he asked indignantly. “I have been busy,” he insisted, feeling this was a perfectly valid excuse, despite what Emerson may have said. “I apologize that being king gives me little time to sit about and walk you through everything! Your Lord Cromwell knew full well who I was,” he pointed out, a bit vindictively. “As did your ladies- You mean to tell me they cannot be relied upon to keep you informed? I shall have to remember that!”

“How d a r e you insult my ladies like this, they were here, where they needed to be, and can’t be expected to know your charade can they. As for my Lord Chancellor, whether he did or did not know does not then make you innocent honestly I hear better excuses from children not Kings!” The indignation clear in her voice.

“As for your precious time, you forget that I know what it means to run a country and that I know it would have taken a mere MOMENT to explain yourself, even through a thrice damned note for spirit’s sake! You had an entire journey, and two days to do so, it was you who chose not to.” Her hand gestures became increasingly pointed and wild as she flared at him.

“I greeted you as a guard captain because that was the role I was undertaking,” Avery shot back. “And the role I needed your men to see me as- Do you really think they would have taken my orders, if they had known me as a king? I could not afford to give them any reason to doubt me, even for a moment’s hesitation- Nor could you!”

When the party had been attacked, they had rallied as a group, and moved together smoothly and rescued Meera as swiftly as was possible- If her soldiers had known him as King Averrett, their enemy, they would have second guessed all of his actions, and cost them precious time.

“That took you less than a moment to explain was that so difficult for you your majesty.” She practically sneered.

“Was it humiliating, then, to have peace offered to you and your country? To have your life saved? Perhaps you and I understand embarrassment very differently,” he said, shaking his head in annoyance at her theatrics.

“It matters very little why you would want to humiliate me, the result is the same isn’t it?” She huffed, “And for the record, just so that you know, it was your sister, your aunt and the maids and the staff who have helped me since I got here. You have only impeded me. You don’t get to sit there and claim I’m being unreasonable to make yourself better. All it would have taken is a damn note.” She panted slightly, finally finished rambling.

“And if I had sent you a note,” he accused, “Would your pride have allowed you read it? Even if you had, would we not be having this same argument, that I was rude and deceitful for not apologizing in person? A ‘mere moment to explain myself’,” he laughed, not sounding very amused. “As if you would have been satisfied with a mere moment to shout at me!”

She would have been unhappy no matter what he did, he told himself, even if he knew he was being petty about it.

And for that she took off her other shoe and threw it at him, this time aiming for his chest. Partially because he was entirely correct and she knew it on some level, even if she was righteously justified because he hadn’t even tried.

“Well we can’t possibly know that now can we?!” Meera threw her hands up in the air and turned away from him, pulling off her last layer as she retreated behind the screen, throwing it to the floor and pulling on her nightgown, which was impossibly thin she realized, rolling her eyes. What was the point of it in the first place then. Honestly these people.

She glared at Avery as she made her way to the bed, getting under the covers on the side farthest from him.

“Fine,” he snapped, pulling off his belt and pants with an anger he didn’t realize was possible to feel towards his belt. He was wearing his nice braires beneath his pants already and he nearly tripped over her shoes when he went to hang the items up on the hooks on the wall.

He cursed under his breath and picked them up, putting them down in front of the fire next to his own, but with much less care.

He stalked back towards the bed and knelt down on the floor with a huff, searching under the bed frame.

…. It wasn’t there? He was going to strangle Emerson. Or at least punch him. He knelt further and looked- It was on the other side, too far away to reach from where he was. He sighed.

“Pardon me,” he said stiffly as he circled back around the bed to Meera’s side and knelt again- More quickly this time, since he knew where it was now, and because he wanted to avoid his wife’s wrath.

With the bed roll now in hand, he grabbed one of the thinner blankets folded at the end of the bed, and went back to the fireplace, where he unrolled the mat and opened the blanket.

“The maids will bring breakfast around 8, and leave it in the adjoining parlor after they unlock the door,” he told her. Just in case she had been hoping to accuse him of neglecting information about breakfast or something equally absurd.

Meera realized what he was doing and scoffed, he had a bedroll under the bed, bastard. Not that she was hoping he would sleep next to her at all, now that would be absurd indeed, but the fact that it had been pre-planned that he would still offended her. Just when she didn’t think she could have anything left to be offended over.

“No, I’ll be taking breakfast with my ladies. There isn’t any need to keep up this charade for longer than a night, despite how long you’re used to keeping up charades.” She said spitefully, knowing it was petty but not caring at this point.

Avery sighed.

“No,” he said, as firmly as he could. “You will take breakfast with me. You can have breakfast with your ladies the day after next. We’ll be staying here at least one more night,” he warned her. “People in two countries- and more, I suspect- are relying on this ‘charade’ to give them some measure of peace and stability,” he reminded her.

If he told her ‘no’ one more time she was going to throw something worse than a shoe at him. Instead rolling her eyes for the millionth time would have to do for present.

“We’ve already ruffled feathers by ignoring ‘traditions’,” he said with annoyance, though it was not aimed at her this time. “I will not give them anymore cause to fuss by meeting with anyone other than our advisors.”

She sat up sharply, “You say that as though I can not leave. This room. For… at least another night.” No no no no no no, she had work to do, she was busy, there were letters to write to other countries Theren had treaties with, supplies to purchase, an economy and market system she had to learn, inquiries to be made, she could not be wasting time stuck in a room with this horrible man.

He turned to look at her, his expression somewhat blank and not very reassuring.

“That’s the general idea, yes,” he confirmed. “Trust me- I don’t like it any more than you do,” he said dryly. “I don’t snore, if that’s any consolation.”

It wasn’t.

“I had Emerson hide some reading materials up here for us,” he said vaguely. That was… Somewhat true. He hadn’t thought to ask anything specific for her, but she might have an interest in the same things she did. Damn. He really should have thought of that. “So you can suffer my company in silence.”

A corner of her upper lip turned upward in distaste, she’s never hated anyone quite like she hates her husband, “Despite what you and men like you may presume your majesty, Queens don’t laze about all day reading or brushing their hair. We have work that needs doing. You’re aware, that peace and stability you were speaking of takes work.” She shifted, grabbing her blanket and wrapping it around her so she could turn away from him, “Work I’m sure my Lord Blackbird can bring me anyhow.” She said, more to herself than to Avery as she burrowed in.

“I wouldn’t- You know what,” Avery said bitterly. “Fine.”

“Fine!” She chirped back pettily, mocking him a little in a way she’d probably look back on and regret for childishness.

He poked at the fire for a moment to ensure it would keep going, and settled down on the bed roll. He should have grabbed a pillow.

“Sleep well, Your Majesty,” he said formally, turning over so that his back faced the bed.

code by Ri.a