𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍「𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲」

[jones573]

Location: Redhill Castle, Royal Apartments
Interacting: Meera and Avery, Avery and Maxwell
Timing: (Time passes w/in post but majority happens the evening of the day after the hunt festival has ended)

She was late, despite her best and most reasonable efforts, given that she could not very well run; what a scandal that would be, to see the Queen hiking up her skirts and running out into the yard. The Archery competition however did not suffer overmuch for it and the festivities continued. On the third day, it had been Lady Veora who had won the prize after all, Meera had never seen her so determined to win; and perhaps that had been in effort to impress a certain Baroness she had danced with the night before? Who could really know but Veora?

Meera was successful in compartmentalizing the earlier fiasco to be dealt with later while she attended to the festivities with vigor, and in avoiding moments alone with the king in the meantime. If it was curious that they never got to go riding like Avery wanted, as she just seemed to be much too occupied, well, she could easily deny that it had been by careful design couldn’t she? She was a Queen, with a Queen’s duties to the… um. To the festival. Which was now… over.

Perhaps late into the third night when she finally went to their room to promptly fall asleep it had not been quite, technically, over. Or the next morning when she woke up late and a little bit hung over, having drunk quite heavily for the closing of the festival and to avoid feeling anything ridiculous like anxiety about sleeping in the same bed with her own husband. Perhaps that morning in particular there was an excuse not to talk very much. A small extension to the festival’s ending. But now it was evening time and Meera was quite sure her relative unease and quiet contemplation had been noticed, or something indeed had been noticed. Her husband was squirming in his seat while she barely touched her food. The diner was getting uncomfortable for her, and it must be for him.

She wanted to go back to when they were having a good time with each other, back to when they were getting close and kissing and beginning to understand one another. That hardly seemed like a thing they could do unless she resolved what was going on in their bedroom however. Or the lack of what was going on. So far her best guess was that he hadn’t wanted to show her his back, that he was self conscious of it, and so he didn’t feel he could be intimate with her without her seeing it. Whatever the reason, they needed to talk about it. To move forward. Without, hopefully, mortifying and insulting any more of his close friends and family. She couldn’t let something like that happen again. The disastrous morning that had been had cost her a few years off of her life, and surely that of her lady’s too.

“I… spoke with Lord Emerson.” Meera began carefully, putting down her fork and giving up on eating, instead reaching for her goblet and taking a gulp of wine. A long gulp.

“Two days ago, in the morning. And I think…” She stared at the stable space between them, seemingly transfixed by the pretty designs in the wood, “I think that I may have upset him a great deal.”

Avery looked up from his picked-over plate, surprised. He had suspected something was bothering her, but he’d no idea what it might be. At first he’d thought it was about the festival- But it had gone quite well, and he’d told her so. Perhaps he should have been more public with his praise? But he had participated in all the ways a king ought to and enjoyed himself, without being overbearing about it- As though he had every confidence in his wife’s ability to entertain their court (which he did) and did not need to coerce anyone into pretending to have fun.

Maybe someone had said or done something that had upset her? He was a little hurt that she hadn’t brought it to his attention, but he supposed he often liked to think on things before he brought them up, so perhaps she was much the same. Which was fine.

It occurred to him that he might also be reading too much into it- That his recent hyperawareness of Meera and her happiness (or lack of) was causing him to second-guess every observation. But he was fairly certain that something had changed. She seemed distracted, and didn’t return his smiles. Or his kisses. When he’d gone to kiss her cheek in greeting before they’d started dinner, she hadn’t even tilted her head to give him better access.

There was of course the possibility that no one was to blame at all. The recent mismatch of her public and private personas reminded him of how Grace behaved during her monthlies- She claimed it became so uncomfortably draining to be nice to courtiers that she wasn’t going to put any effort into being kind to her brother. Avery supposed he should be flattered, then, that Meera considered him someone she did not need to expand effort on.

(He was absolutely not hurt, to think that the casual affection they’d been developing was a performance, the way Grace sometimes laughed at jokes that weren’t all that funny. He’d been the one to start that performance, he’d reminded himself.)

So after all the work he’d put into overthinking her behavior, and his decision to simply ride it out until it passed or she decided to share, it was somewhat of a surprise to hear her bring up Emerson of all people. And that she had upset him, instead of the other way around.

“I’m sure-” - That isn’t the case, was what he had been about to say. He had asked Emerson to be a friend to Meera, and even if he hadn’t, he couldn’t imagine Meera doing something that would really have offended the easy-going redhead.

But he didn’t want to be dismissive of her concerns. And he supposed he might see where she had gotten them.

“Because he did not make many appearances at the celebrations? That is not a reflection on you,” Avery tried to assure her. “Emerson has never cared for hunting, he rarely attends them. And he often finds… Other ways to entertain himself during festivities.”

“No…” Meera looked around, trying to think how to best put it delicately or spare him the details altogether. But then again, if she did spare him the details and swept it under the rug perhaps he wouldn’t take the rest of what she had to say with enough weight, or misunderstand it as something that his friend betrayed his confidence over rather than something his friend saw as necessary. As embarrassing as the fiasco had been, it pointed to a lack of forthcoming that Meera was a bit resentful of.

Bad things were inevitably going to happen when he kept things from her, she needed him to understand that. She also needed him to work with her rather than attempt to manage her, as she suspected he was doing.

He had been expecting to see the bastard lord a bit more on the third day, but it wasn’t worrying that he hadn’t- Avery assumed that whatever Emerson had gotten up to on the second day had proven interesting and enjoyable enough to continue. His guards or his manservant would have reported to Roysa and to Avery if Emerson had gone into town, so Avery was not overly concerned.

“But I will talk to him nonetheless, if you would like,” Avery offered, relieved that whatever was bothering Meera had a clear solution. Patching things up between his friend and his queen was not only a clear solution, but likely an easy one too. “Whatever may have passed- I know you were not malevolent in your intent,” he said kindly. “Emerson will realize that, too.”

“Well, I wasn’t malevolent in my intent no.” She gave a half hearted smile at him, tilting her head and finally looking at him, “But that doesn’t mean that I did not cause him pain… you can have the best of intentions, but still end up causing a lot of pain to someone… Avery.” She said pointedly.

Avery took a sip from his wine. She seemed… Displeased at him? Which seemed wrong, if she was the one who had offended Emerson.

“That is... True,” he allowed with a nod. “I’m sure he will forgive you, though. Can I ask… What is it you discussed, that you think so upset him?”

He was never going to get it was he? Why were men so thick headed? Very well, Meera acquiesced, “We spoke about your supposed affair with him, and I attempted to negotiate terms to live peaceably with your mistress of choice in a vain attempt to save myself from ending up like Queens that have come before me.” She put it bluntly, smiling bitterly.

Avery nearly dropped his cup.

“I’m- I’m not having an affair with Emerson!,” he protested in shock. “I’m not having an affair with anyone! Why would I- Why would you even think that?”

He regretted that as soon as he said it- Half the court had thought it at one point or another, and though those rumors had died down, he supposed spreading them to Meera was too juicy of a prospect to pass up for some courtier or another.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his hand making an abortive gesture as he drew it into a fist and tapped it on his chin. “People like to gossip, I suppose. But I can assure you- regardless of what you might hear- Emerson and I are extremely platonic.”

Meera blinked and patiently allowed him to sputter and exclaim. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long sigh, glancing at the rug as if it held the answer to all their troubles.

“I know better than to pay credence to rumors, and as entertaining as they can be I hadn’t thought anything of that particular one until one of my ladies saw Lord Emerson on top of you in a rather compromising position.” She looked to him once more, “Leading her to believe that you were sleeping with him. All things considered, with my practically throwing myself at you and being rebuffed that very night, what exactly was I supposed to think? I thought you had promised your lover to put off sleeping with your wife or something of the sort.” She heard herself sounding more irritated the more she spoke.

“That doesn’t even-”

“Let me finish.” She held up her hand, stopping Avery from interrupting her.

“So my lady, in tears, had to tell me what she saw, and I thought the worst. It was quite painful you should know, to have to come to terms with that sort of thing when I was becoming very fond of you. It left me feeling like a hopeless fool.” Was her voice getting louder? She didn’t care.

Avery was staring at her, confusion growing to shock.

“And then poor Lord Emerson, who I mortified, had to explain to me about your back. Which is something I am sure you were going to tell me on your own time but now has been made known to me because I wouldn’t take his word for it that you weren’t lovers after all.”

The shock gave way to a flash of anger, and he abruptly got out of his chair.

“All because you won’t communicate with me Avery. You know what is in the contract. You know I am under pressure to produce heirs as soon as possible. If you had just told me that you were uncomfortable or something I wouldn’t have pressed the issue…” She finished, chest tight and flushed, clearly frustrated and venting.

“I was born early,” he snapped, pacing away from her. “Only by a few weeks, but it was enough for accusations to delay my coronation. So you’ll forgive me for not wanting ‘as soon as possible’.”

He could hardly decide what he was most upset about, but that at least he had an easy reply for.

Ah, that made sense, the implication that she could be with child while marrying another.

“Brutus…” She closed her eyes, willing the sting away. It was for appearances sake, and he was smart to do it all things considered.

Avery’s eyes widened. “No! Not- Nothing to do with him! I didn’t think that,” he said hurriedly. “I just don’t want our heirs to encounter any... Difficulties in that regard. With someone else thinking it.”

She nodded, though the sting didn’t go away. It clung to her.

“Instead of an entire fiasco involving my ladies, my chancellor, Lord Emerson, and your closely guarded secret you could have just told me this. As much as it offends me I see it for the smart decision that it is.” Meera replied evenly, tilting her chin up, daring him to disagree with her assessment.

Avery couldn’t think of an immediate reply to that- It wasn’t a secret. (It was.) It was just… Something he didn’t want to discuss or think about or have other people know about. And it was her choice to involve all those people, he thought bitterly.

“You could have just asked,” he pointed out in turn.

“Ask a King who I now think keeps a mistress behind my back?” Meera deadpanned, wondering if he’d thought that one through. “I have no leverage there.”

“But I don’t have a mistress,” Avery tried to protest, though he supposed that was hardly a good point, since she hadn’t known it.

“My next step in that case is an attempt to reach a parley with your mistress, since I very much do not wish to end up like the Last Queen of Ruhar, powerless to do anything but yell at others who do not deserve it because she can not command her husband’s mistress away and can not get him to be faithful. All the while chipping away at her own power and influence. Which is something I can not afford. And given I am called the peacemaker, a celebrated diplomat across the land…” She gave him another pointed look, letting him infer the rest.

“Well, I’m glad my ‘mistress’ was able to clarify things for you,” he said bitterly. “How fortunate he was feeling so honest.”

“You don’t get to blame your ‘mistress’ for not communicating with your wife.” She scoffed, finding her own joke funny and hiding her smirk behind her goblet.

He supposed he didn’t get to credit his mistress for doing the communication then, either.

“Lord Emerson would’ve laughed.” She narrowed her eyes at his expression, sighing and sitting back, wondering if she should just drink until she can’t fuss anymore like yesterday. She drained her cup, how many cups had she had? Was this her third? She couldn’t remember.

“I am not Lord Emerson,” he snarled angrily. “I am King Averett, and if in the future you would like to discuss the details of our physical relationship, you should direct your concerns to me.”

“Oh I don’t think there’s anything to discuss my King.” She drawled slowly, deliberately, standing up to grab the wine pitcher, goblet in hand, and walked out. Making sure to slam the door behind her.

“Wait-,” Avery began to call out, but he didn’t finish. Even if he’d been able to come up with something to say, he doubted she was interested in listening.

Emerson had laughed, when Avery had ranted about the nobles trying to block his succession. ‘If they don’t think you are your father’s son,’ he said dryly, looking idly at the remains of the vase Avery had thrown against the wall. ‘Then they haven’t seen you angry.”

Well, shit.

How had he managed to botch that up so spectacularly? Emerson had been right- Meera had been right, too. He should have talked to her about this before… Well, before it became an issue. But even so- His reasoning had been sound. How had he managed not to express any of it?

He’d gotten so much better at speaking and controlling himself and the conversation since he’d become Elion’s heir and- And as soon as Meera was unhappy, it all went out the window.

He ran through the conversation in his head once, then a second time. He had been… Well, it had been a little unfair of her to spring that all at him, but he had responded like an ass, so.

Maybe if he went into his study, got some ink and wrote things down- And how long would that take? How much longer would he postpone it, if he let himself? It had been more than half a dozen minutes now, and she was probably growing more angry with him. Better to do it now.

His footfalls were heavy on his way upstairs, but their bedroom was empty. He crossed to her solar and knocked on the door.

“May I come in,” he asked quietly. “...I would like to apologize. And explain if you will let me, what little amounts to my thoughts,” he said with a self deprecating smile.

No response came.

“Meera?” He tried a little louder this time, but he was pretty sure the lack of answer wasn’t because she hadn’t heard him.

“Meera, I am sorry,” he said, resting his forehead against the doorframe. “I reacted… Poorly. I was upset, but I should have heard you out. You deserve that.”

She deserved more than that, he knew, but he wasn’t even sure if she was listening.

“I’ll sleep downstairs tonight, all right,” he said. “... We can talk in the morning?”

Again, no answer, though little to his knowledge this time it was because the listener was crying silently, messily. And she didn’t want him to see that, she simply felt too vulnerable for it. So sniffing and drinking more seemed to be the only answer she could give.

Avery sighed and ran a hand over his face, then set off to find a servant.

By the time he returned to the dining room, Maxwell was already clearing the table.

“Ah- Wait,” Avery said, grabbing a plate and filling it with fruit and crackers and other things that would keep if left out, before allowing the manservant to continue.

“I was getting up early to watch the Queensguard practice tomorrow, wasn’t I?”

Maxwell nodded. “And then Lady Roysa was going to join you both for a late breakfast.”

“Cancel breakfast with my aunt,” Avery said. “And tell Captain Harpe I trust her judgement of her team- If she wants my advice on anything, she knows where to find me.”

Maxwell nodded, waiting further instruction or for his King to leave.

Avery frowned, thinking. “Have the kitchens made any sort of dessert with citrus lately? Orange curd maybe?”

Maxwell thought for a moment. “I’m not sure, but I believe I saw some of those lemon cookies, with the blueberries? But I’m sure orange curd could be made if you would like-”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Avery said. He wasn’t actually sure what Meera liked best, but he’d noted that when it came to sweets- and other things- she seemed to go for citrus more often than not. “If you could have a maid fetch some of those cookies, and then bring them and this plate to Her Majesty in an hour or so? And a pitcher of ice water,” he added. Hopefully it might still be cold by the time she drank it.

Maxwell nodded. If he found any of this odd, he did not say so. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”

“Could you get a note to Emerson- Just to say that he was right, but I will be handling it,” Avery said, and Maxwell’s eyebrow rose with the left corner of his lips. “And if we could have a hearty breakfast tomorrow- if there’s anything the cooks have noticed that Her Majesty particularly likes- that would be wonderful,” he added.

He had admittedly not noted much about her breakfast habits, on account of the fact that he was not very observant until he had finished his own.

“That will be all, I think. Thank you,” Avery told Maxwell, and the servant bowed slightly at the dismissal.

“Have a pleasant night, Your Majesty,” he said, as Avery crossed the dining room to his own study.

Not likely, he thought.

 

[The Witch Son]

[Beginning of change of main character "Meera" to "Nuri" starts here.]​

 

[The Witch Son]

Prince Nuri

“I see you’re wearing a mask, your majesty. I half presumed you’d be hunting the King, with your own bow and arrow.” Came a silken voice, a Lady Magdalene, from Nuri’s right hand side.

“I need not hunt him down my Lady, we run side by side…” He offered his arm without turning to her, so she may walk beside him, “Besides, I am a man, and it’s my understanding the role of the huntress must fall to the ladies of the court during this festival.” His mask was silver, in contrast to his husband's gold. King and Prince. The both of them wolves.

Nuri was aware of what she was doing, it was hard to miss the condescension that they dared sprinkle in their interactions with him. Always when he was alone, never around their Belethan King. Nuri never paid it any heed, letting the barbs clink against his armor. He supposed that they were fishing for his reactions, ways to poke holes in it. They’d get bored of it soon enough, once they figured out that he didn’t much care what they thought about his proclivities.

“Right you are your Majesty, I have to admit, these new games and masks for the festival are a great deal of fun. You’ve breathed new life into our festival.” Lady Magdalene fluttered her eyes about. “These garlands are absolutely divine.”

“I’m happy to bring joy to my subjects, and hopefully can continue to do so. Though I can’t presume to claim credit for all of it. I had the help of certain ladies with a good eye for this sort of thing.” Nuri responded diplomatically. Leading them across the courtyard, towards others playing by some tents.

“Of course, there always seems to be a great lady behind every great man.”

That was so snidely clever of her Nuri had to marvel at it, “Or several, as it were. The Princess Grace was so excited for the festival this year, apparently there was some complaint that previous years had been a bit lackluster. She wanted to bring a bit more joy to it this year.” He parried.

“Wise as she is, we’d be the most joyful if we had some young royals running around the castle soon, if you don’t mind me saying your majesty.” Lady Magdalene boldly proclaimed, it almost made Nuri laugh, all of her other barbs had been so subtle in comparison. He realised readily that she could pivot to mean the Princess and not him if he took offense to her statement.

“I’m sure nothing would make us all more joyful my Lady…” He gave her no confirmation one way or another, and was saved from placating anything more by the approach of Lady Mercy. “... You’ll have to excuse me, I leave you to capable hands.” Nuri passed her off to the group, and turned away to attend to Lady Mercy, who seemed very uncharacteristically serious.

“We have to talk somewhere private, your majesty.” Mercy whispered to him. He nodded and led her away from people, but that didn’t seem to be enough for her and they soon found themselves inside a sitting room instead, where Lord Cromwell met them.

Nuri’s exasperation rose from curiosity to severe suspicion.

code by RI.a

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Emerson & Prince Nuri

Have a confrontation

Prince Nuri

Cromwell paused before he opened the door, breathing in deep, hand on the handle, before sighing heavily. He fixed his gaze on Lord Emerson and took off his mask.

“I took away his sword… but if I tell you to get out then get out.” He warned, before swinging open the door and ushering Lord Emerson in, closing the door behind them both, to hear the sound of pacing in the room. The Prince definitely paced when he was agitated, preceded by throwing things.

Emerson frowned- He was about to point out that he didn’t really take orders from Cromwell, but what the other man had said was so odd that the retort died out in favor of confusion.

“Well it’s about time Cromwell, now get out.” Nuri whirled on them, hands behind his back, which gave Cromwell the suspicion that he might be hiding a knife, but then again Nuri tended to do that with his hands anyway. It made him look like an old school teacher (hypocritical of him he was aware) and was amusing when he wasn’t so angry.

“Mercy come here...” Cromwell mouthed, grabbing for a very frightened looking Lady Mercy and pulling her away towards the door, ushering her out but staying behind.

She didn’t smile at Emerson as she went, which was also unusual. He hadn’t befriended Nuri the way he would have liked yet, but he was pretty sure he’d made a strong ally of the prince’s Theren ladies. At least a friend. Or at least someone who met his eye when they passed.

To be honest Nuri had forgotten she was still in the room and glared after her, she should have left earlier. She didn’t need to be here for this. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, squaring off his shoulders and stepping towards Lord Emerson.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” He demanded.

Emerson frowned at the question, unsure what exactly he was supposed to be answering for. He’d gotten a bit drunk at last night’s feasting, sure, but nowhere near to the point that he didn’t recall the dinner and he was certain he hadn’t acted out of turn. And if he had- Well, Roysa would have been standing at his footboard with a glare almost as fierce as Nuri’s current expression.

“Uh,” he started, trying to rack his mind to think of what might have gone wrong recently, and what it would have to do with him.

“...Has my uncle withdrawn from the grain trade deal? Because I assure you, I had no idea and would have tried to stop him,” Emerson promised. “I don’t know why he would have, but I can talk to my cousins and try to find out more-”

“Trade deal?! I didn’t drag you here in the middle of a festival I’m supposed to be overseeing to talk about a trade deal Emerson I’m talking about the nerve of some bastard upstart securing his position at court by becoming my husband’s mistress. Or were you already?”

Ah. This business again, Emerson thought morosely. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised- If anything he should only be surprised it hadn’t come up earlier. But last night Nuri had been exposed to more of the court all together than he had since his wedding, so of course they would take their chance to gossip. And Vienna had danced with Lord Cromwell. It had only been a matter of time.

“Belmys,” he said soothingly. “I apologize- Similar rumors have followed me for years, I’m afraid. I regret they are now being used against you as well. But gossip such things can be ignored,” he assured the prince. “Especially if it comes from my cousin,” he said with a somewhat pointed glance in Cromwell’s direction, assuming the source.
Cromwell shook his head at him slightly, from the side, but only because Nuri wasn’t paying attention to him and what he was doing. Locking on Lord Emerson as though he were the only one in the room.

“Don’t you dare call me that, you haven’t the right.” Nuri only became angrier and got in Emerson’s face, “And don’t try to deny it either, you made the mistake of leaving the door to his sitting room open last night during your little tryst, and had I been there I would’ve dragged you out by your ludicrously colored hair and dealt you with you then.”

Wait, what? “This is my natural color,” Emerson said reflexively, trying to catalogue the night prior.

He and Vee had shared a few drinks and toasted to the success of the festival, Vee had tried to persuade him into joining the hunt, Emerson had tried to persuade the King into also skipping the hunt since it was obvious his shoulder was starting to get to him and- And after much badgering, Avery had agreed to a massage.

Emerson’s freckled face went a bit pinker as he considered what that might have looked like- sounded like- to a passerby. It certainly explained why Nuri was so… Adamant in his belief.

“Ah,” Emerson sighed. He could still fix this. Hopefully. “That was- Not what it appeared to be,” he hedged, not keen on divulging information Avery himself was unlikely to have shared.

As Emerson blushed Nuri paled, damning evidence in his eyes. He didn’t know if he wanted to attack Lord Emerson or throw up the contents of his stomach.

“Tell me is cowardice and deceit inherent in a bastard or is that just something you learn along the way.” He seethed, the fists at his side tightening.

Emerson had tried to befriend this prickly young prince, to no avail. Which was fine. They didn’t need to be friends. But Nuri seemed to be determined to make them enemies, and it was quickly exhausting the extra allotment of patience that Emerson had afforded the younger man on Avery’s behalf.

“I have been His Majesty’s friend and ally long before he even knew your name,” Emerson said, a note of obvious irritation tainting his previous patience. “You do not need to paint me as your enemy, just because you are…. Having problems.”

Oh no, this prick, “Know your place kur, you might fancy my husband but it isn’t you he married. I imagine my problem is standing right here before me. Don’t presume I’ll let some upstart outdo me as his rightful husband.” Nuri hissed. It made sense now why Avery hadn’t taken him already, as Nuri’d been waiting patiently for him to do. He’d not jumped at the chance as Brutus had but he’d also been someone kinder, he just assumed he was taking his time. But perhaps Nuri needed to be more forward in his approach, like Lord Emerson was clearly doing.

He wasn’t going to lose to him. On his honor as a Prince of Theren and Beleth.

“His ‘rightful husband’? Is that what you’ve been,” Emerson asked indignantly. “Because as far as I can tell, you’ve been doing an excellent job of avoiding your marriage- Both the man and the responsibilities associated with him,” Emerson accused. “This obsession with who V- who King Averett,” he corrected himself, “Is fucking, seems to avoid the issue of why you aren’t.”

“If some low born whoreish bastard wasn’t busy riding him maybe I’d get a chance to!” He fired back, knowing Lord Emerson’s words rang true, they stung. Of course the truth stung.

“That wasn’t what happened last night-,” Emerson tried to protest.

“One would think you’d be exhausted from all the cavorting you seemingly do with the whole court and castle staff that you’d be too tired but really I applaud your stamina.” He clapped mockingly, smug. “Tell me if you can get to the King to make you his official mistress will your family finally claim you as one of their own? Or are the Fremonts just too embarrassed by your person?”

Emerson’s scowl deepened even further, his green eyes dark. “You don’t know shit about my family, Your Majesty,” he warned. “I’ve earned my king’s trust through challenges you cannot imagine,” he said, holding up his hand to show the debtor and debtee scars carved on the back side. He ranked higher than any extramarital affair. “But I can’t imagine this little tantrum you insist on throwing will earn you anything at all.”

Nuri wanted to cut that hand off, his upper lip curled in hate. But Emerson was all but daring him to strike at him now, go ahead and strike at your husband’s favorite. You’ll never be forgiven, and it left Nuri rigid and glaring and silent.

Cromwell finally stepped in between them, holding an arm out to make the prince back up.

Nuri shoved at Cromwell violently in response and backed away, turning his back to them both.

“It’s time for you to go.” He straightened, nodding at Lord Emerson, satisfied that this wasn’t going to come to blows.

“I agree,” Emerson said sharply, turning on his heels. “Thank you for the… Enlightening conversation,” he said as he let the door shut behind him. His estimation of Nuri was… Greatly reduced.

The sound of a vase hitting something could be heard as he left.

code by @fudgecakez

 

[jones573]

Interacting: Emerson, Lord Chancellor Cromwell and Louis
Location: Redhill Castle, Lord Emerson's rooms
Timing: Immediately after last scene - A few hours later


Emerson stalked back through the castle’s halls, grateful for the early hour. He didn’t have the energy to play at his usual demeanor right now for anyone unfortunate enough to run into him.

He was angry- Angry at the petulant prince and his unflappable chancellor, angry at his friend for having been so uncommunicative that the situation had even come up in the first place, and angry at himself.

He wasn’t supposed to be affected by this sort of thing anymore. He wasn’t the boy he’d been when he’d first come to court after his years on the Wider Sea, trading in one set of weapons for another- Knives and swords and fists had been more familiar to him, but secrets and carefully chosen words had come more naturally.

He didn’t care what people thought about his relationship with Vee. He hadn’t in years, he reminded himself. Vee loved him, but not like that, and it was fine. He’d struggled with it for awhile, longer than he’d care to admit. A dimming hope he’d tried futilely to squash, that had flickered on rarer and rarer occasions until eventually it had gone out without his noticing.

He wanted his friend to be happy, or something close to it- And he knew an arranged marriage for the sake of a treaty was hardly the backdrop to lasting happiness, but all the same. Vee liked the prince well enough and wanted them to be successful, and the spoiled brat seemed determined to have it otherwise. And now he wanted to make Emerson the party to blame.

There were enough things in Vee’s life that were Emerson’s fault, he thought bitterly as he let the doors to his quarters slam shut behind him.

“Sir,” Louis said hurriedly, rising from a chair where he’d been perusing an old book. “I assumed you would go directly to the hall for breakfast-”

“I’m not going,” Emerson said shortly.

“But sir-”

“I rarely join hunts as it is, no one will miss me,” he snapped. “You’re dismissed for the day.”

Louis looked surprised, then annoyed. “I do not think that would be appropriate-”

“You were just grousing the other day about how I don’t give you enough time off,” Emerson pointed out shrewdly. “Go visit your cousin in town,” he suggested. “Or- Well. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”

“You do not get ‘left alone’,” Louis said calmly, and Emerson whirled on him.

“Fine! Send for one of my guards then! Have them stand at my door. Their instructions are to not let anyone in,” he ordered, then considered as he left the sitting room towards his bedroom. “Two guards, so that one of them can go fetch me food if I want it.”

Louis was about to remind him that that was not the role of his guards, but Emerson shut the bedroom door in his face. Louis gave the sigh of the long suffering.

---

Several hours later, Louis knocked rapidly on the door to Emerson’s bedroom.

“Sir? The Lord Chancellor is here to see you,” Louis reported.

“Why are you still here,” Emerson asked, his shouted annoyance muffled by the heavy door. “Have the guards send him away.”

“The guards are not here, because I never summoned them,” Louis said.

They could have been here, of course, if Louis had insisted. But he hadn’t. He didn’t think his cousin would appreciate an unannounced guest, even if it was a festival. And he wanted to keep an eye on Emerson. It hadn’t sounded like anything in the room had been destroyed, and Emerson’s voice still sounded clear and uninhibited by anything other than anger. Though he had great practice at disguising such effects.

“Well, then you send him away,” Emerson snapped.

“I’m afraid he’s very insistent,” Louis said. Which was an understatement.

Cromwell had been patient enough, in his opinion, and Lord Emerson had been given sufficient warning that he was there to see him. So without further ado, he pushed passed Louis, even giving a small ‘pardon’ and pat on the shoulder as the servant really wasn’t to blame for the capricious nature of his ward or Cromwell himself, and left himself in.

“All in all, it was smart of you to dare him to strike at you like that. It left him unable to act. Though I do wonder… if that’s really going to last.” Cromwell strode in, getting right to it as he made his way to the moping and irritated redhead.

“I brought fresh bread and butter. Left it with Louis.” He mentioned offhandedly. “The cooks here really are fantastic.”

Emerson had been laying maudlin on his bed with a flask he’d retrieved from inside a pair of boots he didn’t wear often, having traded his green doublet for a simple black robe he hadn’t bothered to fasten. He sat up and gaped at the intruder. Who really didn’t seem at all apologetic.

Eventually he got over the incredible breach of etiquette, and closed his mouth slightly.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Emerson told the older man with some exasperation, having decided why the chancellor had come . “Despite what the prince believes, I’m not trying to undermine him. His little tantrum will stay between us,” he said, raising his hands slightly in a small ‘I surrender’ gesture. “Now go away.”

Cromwell quirked a brow, “Well that’s certainly a convenient thing I can tell him to stop him from trying to get rid of you immediately. He’s not immune to the human tendency to do stupid and cruel things when he feels threatened and backed into a corner. And though at a disadvantage currently, I came to warn you that if you continue to let him see you as a threat… well, threats back home just didn’t last very long. Not that, I assure you, I desire to insist upon who you spend your time with… I understand better than most games people like you and I must play.” He alluded to their lowborn beginnings.

Cromwell doubted that Emerson was trying to do anything like undermine the Prince on purpose. He was just everything that was amiable and desirable in a companion, and as such his company was often sought out. It could hardly be called his fault.

Emerson narrowed his eyes at Cromwell. Was he being threatened? He was pretty sure he was.

“You and your prince are not the first to imply I’m only kept around as a convenient ass and pair of pretty lips for His Majesty,” Emerson sneered. Nor even the most dangerous.

“I always assumed you enjoyed the implication. Is that not what you’d prefer I think of you?”

A small crease appeared between Emerson’s eyebrows. Was it? ...He wasn’t sure for a moment, before he remembered that it didn’t matter. He would prefer Cromwell to like him- at least enough to make a possible ally of him- But it didn’t matter why.

“Well, you won’t be the last, either. I’m sure I’ll get over it somehow. I’ll try not to flaunt my ‘relationship’ with the King if it’ll help,” he offered, taking a swig from his flask. “But the Prince is going to have bigger problems than me if he insists on these type of… Overreactions,” he continued. “So. Why are you here instead of teaching him your ‘games’?”

His request for Cromwell to leave had gone completely ignored, and he doubted the man had come all this way to give him some bread. He wanted the Chancellor to get to the point- or the specifics of the threat- and leave him alone already.

Cromwell paused, thinkingly carefully, he tried to soften his tone a bit.

“I confess I’m not artful when it comes to comfort. But I can at least assure you I meant no harm. I don’t work for your Prince. I work for my Queen, so I’m not obligated to interfere as much as you might presume.” He reminded Lord Emerson that Nuri was a Prince of Beleth now, and didn’t hold nearly as much authority over Cromwell as he liked to act like he did.

Emerson snorted. “So if I find you standing at the edge of my bed in the dark of night, I shouldn’t assume you’re here to kill me?,” he said dryly. “Well- Unless you are, I don’t want to see you in my room again. At risk of repeating himself,” he snarled. “Get. Out.”

“Enjoy the bread.” He gave a small bow, seemingly unaffected, and turned away sharply.

He stopped by Louis before he left the room, and whispered something to him before he left.

 

[The Witch Son]

Prince Nuri

This is easily the most difficult task I’ve ever been given. And I am terribly ashamed to say, I am failing.

I did not know marriage would be so complicated, it had seemed an easy matter when I was engaged to Lord Brutus. I knew what he wanted, what was expected of me, and how to manage his desires. Here, I find myself faced with a man who's rules I do not know and who is not so easily figured out or forward with what he wants. What’s more, there are others-

Nuri paused in his writing. He debated being so honest in this letter, but if he wanted advice then he’d better be plain about what he was asking advice for.

-there are others that he prefers to my company in bed. I know of at least one other he is very attached to, someone devoted to him and tied to him in something called the unpayable debt. Matching scars on their hands bind them for life in a similar way that marriage binds, those in this unpayable debt are even sworn before their gods by a priest or priestess. Just as I was to the King in a temple.

I can not get rid of this third party, and what’s worse is that he knows I can’t, and lords that fact over me. If I were to send him away or slay him in a duel the King would never forgive me.

So you see my dilemma, mother, I am not sure I have the chance to succeed here in Beleth when there is already somebody by his side. Was it this way when you first arrived in Theren, all those years ago? Did you have to vie for father’s attention with others? We all know he worshipped the ground you walked on but was it always so? You seemed equally in love and took no offense to the many trysts you had to share him with.

This was not so difficult with Brutus, I did not care who he took pleasure in. I don’t know why in this case it is so difficult for me to accept.

A teardrop morphed the ink, and Nuri hurriedly attempted to dab it away and fix the sentence. Frustrated with his own eyes for betraying him. Once he was dry eyed again he continued…

I feel my position here is precarious. Like I’m dancing on the edge of a knife. The courtiers are bold as they are clever in their barbs, and never around the King of course. I need your guidance.

Love,
Prince Nuri

He blew the ink dry in his letter and sealed it in wax, setting it aside to hand over to Cromwell later. He’d get it to Queen Regent Agora’s hands with as few middle men and more surety than any other method letters were normally delivered.

His confrontation with Lord Emerson had been a devastating blow; he wasn’t composed or fit enough to oversee the festival for the rest of the day, and had to give some excuse of being unwell. Which would no doubt lead to rumors and critical judgement about the festival. But it was little use, as Nuri did not possess the flawless demeanor his sister did. Who, even devastated on the inside, could dazzle a room.

Nuri wasn’t dazzling.

And now that he was done being angry he wasn’t even fierce anymore. He was just hopelessly sad. The fight drained out of him as he catastrophized and lamented his predicament. The best he could do was avoid the public eye. Especially since it was likely that Lord Emerson would use this situation to his advantage and divulge everything into his lover’s ear the moment he got the chance.

Drained, tired, and self pitying, Nuri made his bed in his sitting room and decided to sleep there. He could make the excuse that he didn’t want to make the King sick if he was asked. He just… couldn’t stomach sleeping in their bed at the moment. He was disgusted with himself.

If he were the King he’d probably be disgusted with him too.

code by RI.a

 

[The Witch Son]

King Avarett & Prince Nuri

come to an understanding

Prince Nuri

The festival… went ok. At least in terms of Nuri’s participation on day three of it. Knowing he couldn’t possibly shirk his duties for a second day he fixed his expression and made excuses as to his health. Joining very little in conversation and mostly taking an observational role. His saving grace was the drink and distraction everyone took to, but no doubt his lackluster performance was noticed, and that only set his depressive spiralling further down.

As for now, this afternoon, the day after the festival, Nuri found himself on the training grounds with the soldiers. Facing off Captain Davita, who would’ve been difficult on a good day, and getting his ass thoroughly handed to him.

Damn him, damn him and his handsome, pretty face and the serious furrow of his brow and his warm hands and his stiff, strong shoulders and his hair that’s so nice it makes him jealous. Damn him. He thought as he took a sharp hit to his side and grimaced.

Nuri swept under a blow, grazing Davita’s blade with his own to make a nice shing sound before twirling around going for her feet - then her knees. It was his favorite thing to do. Strike low on people taller than him, as most were. It threw them off, as in swordplay most blows were directed at your top half.

That was Nuri’s philosophy in fighting, to be as difficult and tricky as possible. And don’t get hit. Like just now, ow. Normally he was far better at it.

Mostly, Nuri thought... damn himself for being so easily effected by Lord Emerson and his stupid smug bastard ass. He was distracted today, and mopey, and his lackluster performance was making him get hit, which made him more mopey. And he got the feeling that Captain Davita didn’t much appreciate him being so distracted during a spar, and was hitting extra hard to punish him for it.

It was turning out to be a vicious and bruising cycle. To Nuri’s own shame he realized that he was possessive of his husband. More possessive of him than he’d ever had been with Brutus. Really it shouldn’t be any issue that Avery takes lovers, expected really. Even his father, who worshipped the ground his mother walked on, slept frequently with other women, as he found himself reminding his own mind lately. Nuri had presumed his own marriage would be something like that. It was set up to be something like that with Brutus, and Nuri guarded his heart against expectations of anything different.

Brutus used to joke that he loved Nuri more than Nuri loved him. And Nuri took satisfaction in that ‘joke’ being the truth. Maybe it was punishment for not being Brutus’ one and only, maybe it was his way of dealing with his own distaste towards sharing him? So perhaps the inclination towards possessiveness had always been part of the fabric in how Nuri loved. How ugly, Nuri thought, to have a heart so demanding.

OUCH, and how unfortunate that Captain Davita hit so damn hard. Nuri grunted as his back hit the ground. Taking a moment to huff before getting back up slowly.

Davita frowned at her Prince. Of course she’d heard he’d been feeling unwell, but she’d assumed he wouldn’t come to train with her if he wasn’t up to it.

“You are distracted,” she said simply- The statement was not a judgement, just a fact. “It suits neither of us to train if you cannot give it your full attention.” She sheathed her practice sword. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Your Majesty,” the guard captain said with a curt nod and a bow. It was a polite dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless.

Nuri inwardly grimaced but did not complain. Fixing his lips in a thin line.

She turned towards her men. “First squad- Sprints,” she ordered. “Third squad, continue swordplay.” The second squad was currently on guard, stationed around the training area and would follow Nuri back to his rooms or his next destination, and fourth had the day off from both guarding and training. “Your Majesty,” she said again, but this time addressed not to Nuri in front of her, but to the King standing along the fence.

Nuri’s eyes widened when he realized who she was speaking to, embarrassed that he’d been observed performing so poorly by his husband, the very person he was moping over.

Avery hadn’t meant to linger out on the grounds, but he’d paused when he’d noticed Nuri sparring with Davita. His pause evolved into him leaning up against the fence, watching with a frown. He’d seen Nuri fight- Both in training and on the road. He was usually better than this.

Avery felt a bit uncomfortable to be caught watching, and he waved awkwardly at his husband.

“I was just- Passing by,” he said to explain his presence as he hopped over the fence and came closer. “I can… Walk with you,” he offered, because he felt weird not doing so. Plus, it would be nice to speak with Nuri- He felt he hadn’t really gotten a chance to check in with the younger man about the festival, or make sure he was feeling better. “If you are heading back to the apartments, we could go through the gardens,” he suggested. He always enjoyed seeing the things the gardeners did to prepare the grounds for the coming winter, and they could ditch their guards within the walls, which he thought Nuri might appreciate.

Nuri considered for a moment, stiff and a little worried. His heart pounding in his chest, he wondered if Lord Emerson had ratted him out after all. He personally wouldn’t have hesitated to do so and scarcely believed Lord Cromwell when he was told Lord Emerson didn’t have intentions of doing so.

But whether he did or didn’t, Nuri wasn’t about to hide from the repercussions. He wouldn’t let Lord’s Emerson’s threat hang over his head a day more.

“I… would like that.” He answered awkwardly, more awkwardly that he’d ever been before with Avery. He dusted himself off and sheathed his practice sword.

“How has your day been?” He attempted to ask candidly.

“Well,” Avery answered, offering Nuri his arm. “I have been receiving many compliments to pass along to you about the festival,” he said. “The masks were a particular highlight, I think- Everyone adored them,” he said with a smile. “I’ve also had inquiries about your health,” he continued. “Are you feeling better?”

Nuri recalled that other times his husband had offered his arm, he more often did not take it. Socially, the offer was towards women and Nuri was no woman, he’d taken offense at first. But since being here he’d seen men walking arm in arm this way. Men who were just drunken friends wandering around, and perhaps this was more of an affection thing than a lady or lord thing. He took it this time, a little thrill of enjoyment at the attention and closeness shivering up his spine. Welcomed to offset an otherwise disappointing few days. Being this close wasn’t so bad.

“I thought I might have ruined things, what with my absence and inattention, but I’m glad the court had their fun regardless. Did the city enjoy the barrels of wine I sent?” He wasn’t popular with the people, and didn’t expect to be, but bribery went a long way towards fixing that and with time and diligence Nuri was certain he’d at least be accepted by them. In particular, he’d had wine and salted game sent to Avery’s mother’s home. It was far, but he hoped it reached them in time. Besides, talk of the kingdom was a good way to avoid getting into the real reason for his absence anyway.

“Very much so, I believe,” Avery said. “Wine is the sort of things that is always enjoyed, I imagine,” he said with a smile. They nodded farewell to their company as they reached the gardens and passed through the gated wall.

The preparations for winter had begun, though not quite yet in earnest. The large potted plants had been moved indoors for the season, and a gardner they passed by was spreading a thin layer of mulch across a bed.

“Some of the trees and bushes get wrapped up in big stretches of burlap canvas,” Avery said, pointing to one such tree that had rope ties holding the burlap in place. “Like blankets to keep them warm while they slumber, my aunt explained. But when I was younger, I thought they should have pillows, too,” he admitted with a grin at the memory. “I asked my brother Novius about it, and we couldn’t figure out where you would put the pillow, and decided the gardeners must not know either!”

Nuri stifled laughter, turning away and suddenly overcome with how…

“That’s adorable.” he huffed out, looking at Avery as though he’d grown a second head.

“It’s hard to imagine you so little and innocent minded. Well, not that hard I suppose. You are surprisingly innocent minded.” Nuri couldn’t count how many times he’d been taken aback by his husband’s genuine goodness.

Avery made a noise of affront, though it was clearly meant in jest. “Lord Emerson has often said the same,” he admitted with an eyeroll.

But just like a threat looming over one’s head tends to do, Nuri was reminded with sudden gloom, of his husband’s attachments and what he wanted to say, his expression fell...

“I…” he looked away and dropped Avery’s arm, folding his own behind his back, “Haven’t… been the most adept or attentive spouse. I apologize for that, I confess I’m a bit lost at times at what I should do or how to act. I’ve only ever been with one person and the two of you are like opposites. I wish I had more experience with this sort of thing. Others make it seem so easy… my mother did it effortlessly.”

Avery frowned slightly. “There is no need to apologize,” he said. “And I do not know your mother, of course but- Even at your earliest memories of her, she had many years practice of marriage and ruling,” he pointed out.

“Just because it seems easy- or even is easy- to someone else, is no reason to think it will always be difficult for us,” he said. He wished Nuri hadn’t dropped his arm, so he could reach over and squeeze his hand without it seeming so odd. “We’ll just have to learn as we go- Together. This is new to me, as well,” he observed, thought it felt as much like a confession as a reminder. “And I am sure there are many areas in which I need improvement.”

It was less new to him than to Nuri surely? Or worse, Nuri thought, perhaps Lord Emerson was truly an exception to the rule and so important to him that he took no other lovers. And Nuri would have to contest with this forever. This was all so much worse than how it was with Brutus… but so be it. Nuri had the disadvantage here but he wasn’t going to shirk away from this challenge.

What would Meera do in this situation? Endlessly sweet as she was?

Nuri leveraged Avery’s shoulder and stood on his toes to give his cheek a kiss, an action which was both impulsive and led to a heavy blush he could feel burning on his scowling face.

The blush was mirrored on Avery’s own face- He could count on one hand the number of times Nuri had initiated affection. It was unexpected, but nice. Not nearly as unexpected as what Nuri said next, though.

“Not as many as me surely, but to begin with I’ll not quarrel with your favorite again. As I did a few days ago, that was why I was ‘unwell’, not for my health as I led everyone else to believe. We had quite a row I’m afraid.” He confessed.

The frown on Avery’s face was one of confusion, but might certainly read as frustration to someone who did not know him well. His favorite? He must mean Emerson, Avery decided after a moment’s consideration. ‘Favored’ was a common, if not entirely accurate, translation for the archaic term for those who had taken the debt.

“You fought with Lord Emerson?,” he clarified, the confused furrow in his brow still present. About what? “I am sorry to hear it affected you so,” he said cautiously, unsure of what follow up questions he was meant to ask. Presumably Nuri would say more if he wanted to share the details?

Gods above and below, he thought with some exasperation, he had specifically instructed Emerson to be kind to Nuri. He and Grace liked his barbed wit and Roysa might tolerate it, but it could certainly come off harsh to someone unused to it. “I may enjoy the cleverness of his tongue, but I can appreciate that he is not always the easiest person to get along with,” he admitted with a sigh. “I shall remind him to watch his words more carefully in the future.”

Nuri patiently waited to be admonished, or… something. But it almost seemed like Avery was going to deny the news, or was only alluding to it lightly. That was right, he’d kept the nature of his relationship with Lord Emerson secret hadn’t he? So it must be his worry now. Or was it that Lord Emerson’s ‘tongue’ was clever with more than words.

Nuri’s cheeks reddened and he looked away, pretending to be interested in the infernal plants. He had that skill too, Brutus had always complimented the way he could… he was getting side tracked.

“They were my words, actually. Though his actions… irritated me, I understand better now and will not make a fuss about it. It isn’t my place, my King.” Was Nuri’s way of casually letting his husband know that he knew, but would not trouble him over it. He smirked and noticed his hand was still on his arm and moved to link it with his once more, drawing them closer.

Avery wasn’t so sure about that- Nuri was royalty, and his husband. If he felt Emerson’s actions were out of line, he could certainly say something. But maybe he felt that because of the debt, it was Avery’s responsibility to do so? That would make sense.

“I understand,” Avery said, though he wasn’t sure he did. “But you are my husband. If you have any further problems, please let me know and I will be sure to speak with him.”

Well and satisfied with that answer, and his place confirmed, Nuri agreed and gave his arm an appreciative squeeze.

Take that! Lord Emerson. Nuri thought.

code by @fudgecakez

 

[jones573]

King Averett & Prince Nuri

take two of coming to an understanding

King Averett

Avery woke slowly, a warm weight curled onto his side. It took him a moment to realize it was Nuri, and his lips twitched upwards in a slight smile. It was… Nice.

Nuri tended to keep to his side of the bed, so Avery could only guess the cold had driven him over. The windows and shutters of the bedroom had been shut tightly for sleep since the past week, but Avery supposed the heavier blankets would have to appear in the next few days as well. He thought he could hear maybe a few birds in the distance of the garden, but they were certainly much fewer with every day and if this morning’s dew hadn’t turned to frost, tomorrow’s would.

He laid in bed for a few minutes more, too comfortable to extract himself quite yet when he had nowhere pressing to be. But Nuri made a soft noise, and Avery was reminded that his husband would pull away quickly once he was fully awake, and might well be grumpy at him for the affection. Avery felt they might finally be making progress, and he had no desire to ruin that by making Nuri uncomfortable with unwanted cuddling and the resultant… Situation. So he moved Nuri’s arm as gently as he could, and turned his body towards the edge of the bed.

Nuri, who had woken up a bit earlier and made sure to fall back asleep with an arm slung over his husband’s chest, woke up again. Though this time not nearly as quickly nor gracefully aware as before. His eyes fought him and his voice came out groggy and whiny sounding as his brain slowly realised that his plan was being foiled.

“Mhmphfwait.” He sat up slightly only succeeding in opening his eyes to slits, enough to acquire a death grip on Avery’s shirt and attempt to pull him back.

Avery chuckled a bit, but didn’t go any further. “But if you let me get up, I can go get you more blankets,” he pointed out teasingly. “A fair trade, I think.”

“But you’re so warm.” He complained, rubbing his face on the pillow, which wasn’t all anything like the seductive line that he’d decided on the day before, but it was a pertinent point in his opinion.

“It’s my understanding that blankets are also warm,” Avery said with mock seriousness. “I imagine… Three blankets will more than counteract the loss,” he suggested, wrapping his fingers around Nuri’s to loosen his grip.

Avery’s insistence on leaving irritated something in Nuri, and his mind went to places that were jealousy fueled. These sobering thoughts helped wake him the rest of the way up fairly quickly.

“But if you leave, how am I supposed to take care of your rather consistent morning problem?” Nuri’s voice matched the suggestivity of the phrase, that was more like it, he arm retreated to brush his hair back in order to properly fix his husband with a look.

Avery frowned slightly through his blush. “Um,” he said. He’d known Nuri was probably aware of that, but he’d sort of assumed they had silently agreed not to mention it. Apparently not. “That’s not- That’s not your responsibility to take care of,” he said with as much polite definitiveness as he could muster.

The sting of rejection burned, and Nuri hadn’t actually thought he’d be feeling it when he offered himself so openly. His cheeks burned and his words poured out as he backed up to the other side of the bed.

“Is Lord Emerson’s embrace really so good that you can’t bare to be with anyone else?!” He huffed hotly, exasperated. He really hadn’t been expecting this, thinking, mistakenly apparently, that Avery did consider him his spouse in every way despite his muse on the side.

“Emerson?,” Avery asked in confusion, not following Nuri’s line of thinking.

“Or better yet, is it really just that I’m entirely…” He scowled, his mouth twisting, he couldn’t say it, and instead flung his blanket off and hopped off the bed with a thump, so thoroughly mortified that he didn’t even care that the cold was biting. He welcomed the bite, it hurt the way his entire chest hurt. “Nevermind, just go to your favorite already, do as you will.” He said bitterly as he made to retreat to the wardrobe.

Wait- “Wait,” Avery said, putting the pieces together. Or at least he hoped he was. “I’m sorry- When you say ‘favorite’,” he clarified. “You mean like… You think I’m having sex with Emerson?” He sounded both unsure and dismayed at the idea.

Nuri turned to look over his shoulder in disbelief mixed with disgust.

“Don’t start treating me like I’m stupid now we talked about this yesterday and agreed. I wouldn’t quarrel with your favorite… I just didn’t know you would deign to refuse to so much as use my mouth while you were at it.” He mocked and rolled his eyes, already very tired of this conversation.

Avery’s frown of confusion turned to one of revulsion. “I’m not going to use you, I- I’m not sleeping with Lord Emerson,” he said firmly, deciding it would be best to start there. “Yesterday- I just assumed you had mixed up a term, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were implying… That,” he explained calmly. This was salvageable, right? “It’s been a popular rumor among some of the nobles, I’ll admit, but there isn’t any truth to it,” he said.

Nuri looked at Avery like he was stupid, “You should’ve checked your story with your favorite because he tried denying it to. I might’ve believed him, or you, except that the only reason I had any notion of this at all is because a couple of days ago Lady Mercy saw you two.” He aggressively pointed at Avery, hyper focusing on the important parts of what he said instead of the revulsion.

“You left the fucking door to your study open and apparently Lord Emerson had you moaning. Which I thought was where I had gone wrong, instead of waiting around for you to finally do what you ‘wanted’-” He added air quotes, since it was obvious to him now that his husband had no physical interest in him whatsoever. “You needed a more direct approach, like Lord Emerson, but clearly the problem here has nothing to do with approach and I wish you’d just be plain and honest about that instead of this giant headache and tip toeing around the subject!” Nuri was shouting now, and quite animated.

Avery’s expression had gone considerably darker. “I believe Lady Mercy was mistaken in her interpretation-”

“I don’t need you to lie or treat me like I’m delicate I’m not, for fuck’s sake I’m a man I can take it. Just tell the god damn truth already so we can move on and I can stop acting like a god damn fool already.” He finally stopped, his voice beginning to lose itself and trailing off, that familiar tired and hopeless feeling back in full force. He could handle not being liked, but he wasn’t sure he could handle any more of this guessing game and lying. His hands were shaking.

“I am telling you the godsdamned truth,” Avery snarled. “I’ll admit to ‘moaning’ under Lord Emerson’s hands,” he confessed wryly. “As it had been several weeks since I had had anyone work on my shoulders. ...I tend to get rather tense if I go too long without a massage,” he explained, though he seemed upset by the admission.

Unfortunately, Nuri could only interpret this upsetedness as irritation at having his farce challenged. Because a massage sure as hell didn’t explain how and why their marriage hadn’t been consummated yet. How and why Avery very clearly had no interest in doing so.

“A fucking massage…” He mumbled, rolling his eyes and his whole head while he turned away, quite done listening to these thinly weaved tales. He had to go get dressed anyway, and retreated into their wardrobe. Never mind that he had nowhere to be for the next few hours, he’d find a place. Yes, he had things to do, surely?! There were taxes today, big things going on with taxes, a plan he’d made. He could focus on that.

It was clear that Nuri didn’t believe him, which shouldn’t frustrate Avery as much as it did- Why should Nuri believe him? They’d known each other barely a month, and the explanation did sound like a flimsy excuse. But it was true and it suddenly became very important that Nuri realize that Avery wasn’t lying to him-

He stalked after the younger man before he even realized what he was doing, pulling at the hem of his sleep shirt. It was loose and overlarge, and he pulled it up on the back to his neck but didn’t take it off. “See,” he demanded of Nuri, turning around to speak to the wall so that Nuri could see the exposed shoulder, and the tangle of scars that congregated around it.

With his head tilted down, his hair fell around his face but it didn’t muffle the sharp edge to his words. “It… Acts up occasionally,” he said, which was hardly an adequate way to describe the pain that radiated from the ruined skin. “My physician makes a salve for it- Emerson is one of the few people who knows,” he finished, letting his shirt fall again.

The garment in Nuri’s hand fell to the floor as his brain shut off, and slowly realized his own horrid mistake as he registered what he was seeing. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he heard the footsteps of Avery coming after him. Maybe to be grabbed and shook a little, that was a familiar action, not from Avery but familiar nonetheless.

He hadn’t been expecting to be entirely proven dead wrong. He thinks he would’ve far preferred the rough manhandling.

“You… weren’t lying… Oh shit…” He leaned back, his back hitting a hard surface mercifully. “I almost attacked Lord Emerson, shit.” He closed his eyes and covered them with a shaking palm as he realized the full extent of his jackassery. “And he wouldn’t tell me because… because he’s your friend, and a fucking loyal one at that.” Nuri’s hand dragged down to his mouth as things clicked into place, the interactions he’d had were suddenly flipped on their head. He’d been taking everything wrong.

“I’m not in the habit of being dishonest,” Avery said, turning back around to face Nuri. “I guess I’m just not in the habit of being… Forthcoming, either.”

“No, you’re not.” Nuri deadpanned. “So if you’re not otherwise entangled with Lord Emerson, then why has it been six weeks and this marriage isn’t consummated yet? I thought it was so odd that you were waiting and then it made me nervous how long you were waiting. I almost wished you’d get it over with and then I thought that you were satisfied elsewhere and now… now I don’t know again. I don’t understand. Brutus had me often and I know he was abnormally… abnormal, but you won’t have me at all?” He shrugged, laying out the facts as they were at the moment, deciding to be forthcoming while they were both being honest and raw with each other.

“I’m not really…. Interested in ‘having you’ only for the sake of having you,” Avery said with a wince. He wasn’t going to force Nuri to pretend an interest in his father’s killer just for pleasure. “And I thought it would be… best, to put a slight delay on the birth of any children,” he explained. “My own early arrival put both my mother and myself under undue scrutiny, which I would not want to subject you to.”

Nuri’s eyes widened as it clicked.

“Ah, you mean to say any heirs would need to be legitimate and their legitimacy unquestionable. That makes sense. That’s smart actually.” He had to commend Avery for that one. It was a tactical decision. Especially given that marrying Nuri came through the breaking of a prior engagement.

“I wish you would’ve told me, it’s not as though strategy is beyond me, and as Prince it is my duty to support your reign… I don’t know what you mean ‘having me for the sake of having me’ though.” He rolled his eyes, “I’m not delicate, I’m perfectly used to what men with pricks do, even if I don’t have one.” He flushed and looked away, annoyed at the thought that his husband had been holding back on behalf of delicacy. There were certainly ways for his husband to take care of his pleasure without getting Nuri pregnant.

“I didn’t bring it up because it never seemed relevant,” Avery said after a moment. “You didn’t seem to be… Interested in addressing such things, much less partaking of them.”

“Am I supposed to be? It’s not exactly pleasant you know, I mean…” He looked down at his feet, which suddenly became very interesting, “Sometimes it is, a little, I recall this one thing Cromwell did - never mind. It just isn’t very pleasant getting pinned down and receiving I can assure you.” Nuri insisted, as though it were perfectly normal and understandable to not enjoy the act if you were on the receiving end nearly as much as if you were on the giving end. It was one of those things that made Nuri spitting mad occasionally about the body he was born in but it was little use wishing for things that would never be.

Avery’s face went from uncomfortable at the conversation topic to enraged in a matter of seconds. “What,” he spat. “No- It’s supposed to be pleasant, at the very least not unpleasant,” he said angrily. Admittedly a few of his fumbling attempts at physical intimacy with Gilda had started out a bit uncomfortable and awkward, but he’d known she’d enjoyed herself regardless. “They used to pin you down,” he asked, thinking angrily of Nuri’s past partners, who he’d never given too much thought towards previously. “This Brutus and- Cromwell?”

At first Nuri thought Avery was angry at him but instead he seemed furious at what was an entirely natural thing. Nuri crossed his arms and looked at him as though he’d grown a second head.

“Wh-” Nuri began but lost his words when he saw how angry Avery got.

Avery’s eyes flashed with fury. He should have trusted Emerson’s wariness of the chancellor. “He’ll not hurt you again,” Avery swore. It would probably be detrimental to their country’s fledgling alliance if he had the man’s hands cut off, and he snarled in irritation. “I will have him banished-”

“Cromwell? Cromwell wasn’t even allowed to…” Nuri flushed, interrupting, “I don’t remember most of it anyway Brutus would get us both drunk because I’d argue when he wanted us both at the same time it’s not that big of a deal! Brutus was just a very demanding man that’s all. Stop being mad, especially at Cromwell he was much more rough with him than with me anyway. He was only doing what comes naturally; you don’t need to get all worked up about this!” Nuri felt a sudden surge of protectiveness over Brutus, defending his actions not just to Avery but to himself.

He’d always hated that little dance Brutus would do, acting like none of them knew why he wanted to play drinking games with just the two of them, alone. Cromwell and he weren’t stupid, they knew perfectly well, and somehow Brutus always got his way… It was just his appetite though, it was perfectly natural.

“You. Don’t. Remember,” Avery fumed, enciating each word as he stormed out of the wardrobe and back into the large bedroom, feeling suffocated by the small space. Was there no one in his life he could shield from the cruelty of others?

Nuri paused for a moment, gripping at his arms nervously before tearing after him, skidding to a stop just as he saw Avery.

Avery picked up the nearest item- a vase of dried flowers- and hurled it against the wall. The satisfaction of its shattering lasted only a fleeting moment, and he scrubbed his hand over his face in shame, recalling the trail of broken ceramics his father had always left in his wake.

Nuri flinched, somehow feeling that this was punishment for him and his own actions, that he deserved that vase hitting the wall. After all, hadn’t he gotten Avery angry? Hadn’t Nuri done the same when he was angry not two days ago?

“He was doing what came ‘naturally’ to a bully,” Avery allowed in disgust. “He should never have treated you in such a way. I am sorry to hear you have had such… Unpleasant experiences,” he said, the angry set of his shoulders giving way to something more defeated.

“Brutus wasn’t…” Nuri began, “He told me it was just natural…” The word ‘natural’ suddenly felt very unnatural as he said it. It was Brutus who’d had told him that what he was doing was fine and normal, and Nuri had believed him, had wanted to find a way to please him. Had even felt proud that he could deal with a level of pain in the beginning. And hadn’t Brutus always commended him for it? Nuri absolutely preened under his praise.

Even though what he was doing hurt in more ways than one. Hurt until it didn’t and he was just numbly indifferent to it.

He stared ahead listlessly, thinking back, had he been taken advantage of that whole time? And the worst part of it was that in the back of Nuri’s mind he knew something was wrong, but he was too eager to please and too undeserving of anything different to change anything.

“No I… He...” Nuri weakly attempted to come up with another excuse. He moved to the bed and plopped down onto it, tired of standing and feeling that he’d aged a thousand years in the span of a single morning.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” Avery said as he crossed the room to kneel at Nuri’s side. You and your righteous anger, he reminded himself with Emerson’s words. “It isn’t your fault,” he said firmly, reaching out to cup the side of Nuri’s face. But he had barely stroked his thumb from the younger man’s ear and down towards his jaw when he snatched his hand away.

Nuri didn’t know him and Nuri didn’t like him. Avery had no right to comfort him, he reminded himself.

Instead he took one of Nuri’s listless hands as loosely as he could- If Nuri wanted fingers to squeeze they would be there, but he could easily draw away.

“I shouldn’t- These were your experiences, not mine. Your judgements have more value,” he told Nuri as evenly as possible. He didn’t think he was misunderstanding, but Avery knew he tended to react… Strongly. And assume the worst.

“But it sounds like… Even if you were fine with what happened, you took no enjoyment from it. And perhaps even disliked it,” he continued cautiously, hoping he was not speaking out of turn. “I have no intention for our own intimacy- obligated as it may be- to mimic that pattern.”

The numbness, so familiar a feeling, washed over Nuri and it took him a minute to realize that he had wants but few thoughts at the moment. He could barely think. He gently stroked at the fingers holding his and wished for that comfort back.

“Can we just… I’m so tired all over again. Can we go back under the covers and just sleep a little more… you don’t have to…” He didn’t want to bother Avery with his own feelings but he just liked and appreciated the way his hands made him feel warm. Gave life back to his listless nerves. He just wanted to sleep next to that warmth for a little bit.

“Of course,” Avery said hurriedly. “Of course, Belmys. Whatever you want.” He breathed the words against Nuri’s hand, having brought the younger man’s fingers to his lips. “Give me a moment,” he instructed, rising to his feet and towards the door.

“Gregor,” he called into the hall, and the burly manservant appeared a moment later. “Lady Roysa will handle the morning schedule, at her discretion,” he instructed. “We will take breakfast in our room. Not immediately- An hour and a half,” he decided. That should be enough time for a nice nap, Avery thought and if it wasn’t- Well, they could always have more food brought up. “I will ring for you if anything else is needed,” he said, and Gregor bowed his head at the spoken and unspoken commands. Their Majesties were not to be disturbed.

Back inside the room, Avery tilted the shutters on the eastern windows so lines of sunlight slanted across the floor, illuminating the room more without making it intolerably bright. He pulled the first blanket from the chest, and frowned at it. It was large and thick, colored black with gold embroidery along the edges. He dug further and found a smaller blanket in light blue, enough to wrap cozily around one person and still have a little extra.

“Here,” he said, bringing it over and draping it across Nuri. “So you can stay warm like a tree in winter,” he suggested with a slight smile, trying to recapture some of the lightness from the day before. “This time I think I can even figure out what end the pillow goes on,” he joked.

Nuri, who had by this time gotten back into bed, snorted out a puff of air that served as a sound of amusement. The extra layer doing its job of collecting more warmth and adding more comfortable weight, so his body loosened up from it scrunched up rigidness and spread out slowly. His limbs stretched their creaking muscles as he nestled in, eyes closing and a long yawn following as
he felt the bed shift, Avery joining beneath the covers.

He glanced over and caught sight of a small tendril of scarring that reached out from under the collar of his shirt as Avery maneuvered himself. He waited patiently until Avery was settled to ask.

“Is that why you’re careful not to dress in front of me? You don’t like people seeing your back.” He said softly, as though it were a secret. It was. It was Avery’s secret.

Avery looked up at the canopy of the bed, unsure of what to say.

“.... I’m not ashamed of my scars,” Avery said eventually. “But it’s… Easier, if people don’t know about them. Especially when I was more active in the field- You don’t want to advertise a weakness.”

And he didn’t like talking about how he got them.

“I understand.” Nuri nodded, his eyes drooping. He understood hiding weaknesses, the world was a cruel place sometimes, a lot of the time really. But at least right now, he was in good company.

Avery rolled onto his side so he could watch Nuri’s face slip towards slumber. Tentatively, he slipped his arm from beneath the covers and laid it out between them.

Nuri’s fingers found his and loosely entangled themselves there. Neither said a word.

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Chancellor Cromwell

Cromwell stacked away his papers, setting his notes inside his binder now that Prince Nuri had everything he needed and they’d triple checked the numbers. Honestly, this was a considerably light task and his work here in Beleth had overall been lighter than he’d presumed it’d be. And told the Prince as much.

“And yet you still find a way to work too much.” Nuri huffed.

“I don’t know, recently I’ve found a relaxing diversion.” He defended himself, recalling the third day of the festival, after the ball, when he went back to his room and found temptation himself had followed him there. Lord Emerson had felt the need to apologize for his surly temper earlier, and Cromwell was quite receptive to it. They had a diverting and pleasant talk afterwards, and Lord Emerson found out that Cromwell’s vocabulary included some very filthy words.

He straightened up, “Will that be all?”

Prince Nuri paused, looking out of a window pensively, he was far more subdued today then he had been previously, Cromwell wondered what could have happened to prompt this change in mood. He’d been absent from his duties all morning, shut in his chambers with the King. Cromwell could not for the life of him tell if this was a good thing or not, the situation unclear.

“Brutus wasn’t a good person. Was he.” He finally voiced.

Cromwell frowned, and considered his words carefully, the two of them might have a large difference in station between them but this they had in common; Lord Brutus of House Virgina had misused them both. Cromwell had come to terms with this fact and hardened himself to it a long time ago, Prince Nuri it appeared, was only just.

“No. He was not.” Cromwell’s voice sounded more strained than he’d meant it to.

“He hurt you didn’t he.”

“...He did.”

“He had this way of getting things that he wanted from you, and making you think you were obligated to do as he wanted.” Prince Nuri was still staring listlessly out of the window, his expression even stonier than Cromwell’s own. It always worried him when the Prince was like this, though he’d only seen it a handful of times. It was as though he went somewhere else entirely and was no longer in the room.

“He was a very selfish man, yes.” Cromwell agreed.

“My husband is a hundred times the better man.” Nuri nodded, seemingly coming back.

“Are you happy with him?”

“I like him. He treats me… kindly. Like I’m important to him, like my comfort is important to him.” Nuri flushed a little and looked at his hands, messing with them and smiling lightly.

Cromwell couldn’t help the smile coming to his face. This was a highly unexpected turn of events. Whatever had happened this morning, despite the past couple of days, must have been affirming for the royal marriage. King Averett was the far better man in his opinion, honorable to a foolish degree, and just the sort of person to value the second heir that was important enough to be raised to great responsibility but not valuable enough to ever warrant priority from anyone in his life. Prince Nuri had always been in an odd and difficult position, but it appeared that now he’d have an opportunity to grow into his own, if he didn’t get in his own way that is.

“You should toss Lord Brutus from your heart and mind my Prince, I did, and I’ve felt much lighter ever since.” It hadn’t always been so, he used to hold resentment towards Prince Nuri for taking his lover from him. But once he realized who was actually to blame for the change in heart and how freeing it was to be out of Lord Brutus’s demanding grip he’d begun feeling sympathy for the Prince. Who was even less experienced than he and more malleable to Brutus’s domineering will. And worse yet, desperate for love in a way that Cromwell himself simply was not. All of which probably played a factor in Brutus’s interest in him.

“Like you tossed him out of the castle?” Nuri smirked.

“Like I tossed him out of the castle.” Lord Cromwell bowed.

code by RI.a

 

[The Witch Son]

King Avery & Prince Nuri & Lady Roysa & Chancellor Cromwell
Go Over A Tax Proposal With Minister Brennan

Prince Nuri

The previous duke of Pendaire was a fairly unremarkable man, perhaps in his sixties. Older than Lady Roysa, but not so old that anyone worried he might not be qualified for his current position. Not that anyone would voice such a concern to Lord Brennan's face.

He was the sort of man who had probably been handsome and fit in his youth, and still retained some of it. His shoulders and neck were straight-backed and still muscular, though his middle had grown enough through the decades to spill over his belt. His hair had retreated from the top of his head and only grew in a gray curve between his ears, and though the skin under his eyes had sagged, his strong jaw was still prominent above the emerging double chin.

The trade minister dressed in well made clothes, tunics and doublets that kept up with fashion but never set it. Several rings adorned the fingers trailing along the lines of Prince Nuri's proposal. One was particularly large, set with a blue stone and engraved with the dolphin seal of his family.

When he finished his perusal, he set the papers back down on the table and pushed his half-moon spectacles back up the ridge of his long nose.

"You know, you do not need my approval to enact this," he told Avery and Nuri, and the advisor that flanked that each of them.

The corner of Roysa's lip twitched from where she stood by the window, watching the sky. There would be snow tonight.

Cromwell stood much closer, in his typical looming manner, in his typical stony expression. You’d never guess he was pleased.

Strictly speaking, there were very few things for which the King needed explicit approval from a minister. But with a majority vote, the ministers could overrule a monarch's decision. And if a minister was respected in their field, and their expertise trusted by more than just the royal they served, their blessing usually made things much smoother.

This effect was mitigated, of course, if the minister was seen as an inept yea-man. But Minister Brennan was certainly not.

Which was all the better in Nuri’s opinion, though it certainly raised the stakes in some ways, once met those stakes were as good as cleared.

He had stepped down as Duke of Pendaire a few years ago, when King Elion has asked him to fill the position of Minister of Trade. No one was particularly surprised that he had given up his title- He had never married, and had no children. His sister and her children had been named as his heirs for decades, and everyone knew his sights were set higher than just one duchy. What he now lacked in formal title, he more than made up for in power and reach.

"Just because your approval is not needed, does not mean your input is not valued," Roysa said, turning back to the table. She and Brennan had fought often enough on trade matters to know that, despite their disagreements, he did actually have some brains.

“It serves the Kingdom very little to enact proposals that would be shot down by its ministers Lord Brennan.” Or rather, Nuri thought, it served the crown very little. Details, details...

“Do you predict as it stands now that there would be objections to it? And if so what kind?” Nuri folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward, giving the minister his full and undivided attention. He was very good at that, looking at people as though they were the only one in the room, his sharp smile making people feel as though they were in on his private joke. However serious the topic.

“Oh, I imagine there will be many objections to it,” Brennan said mildly, and Avery steeled himself.

If he was being honest, he didn’t much care for Brennan, but that had little to do with the man’s service as a minister and far more to do with his past- and occasionally recurring- relationship with Emerson. Emerson had laughed at Avery’s concerns when he’d first voiced them, told him that Prince or no, he didn’t get to dictate who Emerson spent time with, and worn the blue gemmed hair pins and sapphire rings to dinner for a straight week to annoy Avery.

Even though Brennan had been Minister of Trade for the duration of Avery’s rule and Avery knew him from sitting in on Elion’s council meetings, they didn’t really interact that much. Brennan tended to take his concerns directly to Roysa, as she had held the role prior to his appointment, and if Brennan was prone to throwing fits when he didn’t get his way- like a certain Minister of War- it wasn’t something Roysa had ever told him about. Avery very much hoped he wasn’t about to see such a side from the older man now.

“But none that are... Actionable, by the nobles who will raise them,” Brennan continued, and Avery felt a bit relieved. “You have very cleverly- and somewhat dangerously- allied yourself with the common people against their nobility,” Brennan pointed out. “If the people of Moise want to know why the people of Icolta have lower taxes than themselves,” he suggested as a hypothetical.

“The fault will be on their baron, for not accepting this deal. There are many lords and ladies who will not appreciate you putting them in this position,” he warned. “It may engender poor sentiments in the long run.”

“On the contrary my Lord, I am only doing my best to ensure that since trade has opened with Theren, money from people high and low is freed up and encouraged to be spent. We would all benefit in the long run from that. There is more money to be made through trade than through taxes.” Nuri lied easily, buttering the truth with honeyed promises. They weren’t entirely lies, he did have a point, but the purpose of this proposal was as the intelligent minister had pointed out.

If the nobles were busy appeasing their peasantry they were both doing as they should and had less freedom to be busy antagonizing the crown.

Brennan gave a bemused sigh at this explanation, obviously not entirely believing it or that Nuri believed it either. He carried on regardless.

“But you might be able to temper those sentiments if you are willing to be a bit flexible,” he advised. “This is a bit vague on some of the particulars,” he said gesturing with the document in front of him.

“It’s a first draft,” Avery said defensively and the corner of Brennan’s mouth rose incrementally.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he clarified. “Would you be willing to negotiate the finer details with the interested nobles on an individual basis?”

“Of course. I would encourage it.” Nuri smiled a toothy grin. Having the nobles vying for favors and better deals and asking the crown for things was another way to keep nobility in check. It was as his mother had always said ‘keep them beholden to you, nothing is more dangerous than nobility becoming too independent minded.’ And one thing Nuri had definitely observed about Belethan nobility was their prideful and high minded independence.

It was no wonder there were so many assassination plots here.

Brennan nodded. “Do you plan for it to be a direct ratio? They lower their land tax one percent, we lower ours one percent?,” he asked. “There should be a limit,” he advised.

Ah, here’s the real tricky part. Nuri had no idea what he could get away with here. This was his first time working with Lord Brennan. Asking the Lord to support a limit too low may undercut the effectiveness of the proposal here, too much would prove unacceptable.

According to the crown’s own books they certainly couldn’t go higher than fifty, that number was ludicrous and the crown did need a steady influx of funds to work with. Not scraps. Nuri would look incompetent if he went with the highest possible number. There was little else Nuri hated than looking incompetent.

“I was thinking twenty percent.” Nuri said cooly, leaning in further and beginning the negotiations by swinging reasonably high, his fingers playing with each other.

Roysa visibly tensed, feeling serious regret that she had trusted Avery when he’d said he and Nuri were ready for this meeting. She’d had similar questions to what Brennan was asking, and she wouldn’t have let the young couple into the room if she known this was how they were going to answer.

Or how Nuri was going to answer at least. Based on the slight furrow of her nephew’s brow, he hadn’t anticipated that either.

“And I was thinking you might have had a decent proposal here,” Brennan said, not bothering to hide his surprise or dislike of the idea.

“It’s just an upper limit, not what we’d expect them to go for-,” Avery started, though he also thought it too high. But if it was important to Nuri, he could keep his criticisms to their private conversations.

Nuri tried to stifle his smirk, this was more or less the reaction he wanted from the rest of the nobility. He needed them to feel a sense of urgency and panic, they needed to start competing with one another instead of feeling so comfortable in their spots.

“And it leads directly into my next concern,” Brennan continued, as though the King hadn’t spoken. “What will you do when the crown needs money? We are still paying off a war. Financially, we are more stable than under your late father,” he said, uninterested in softening his thoughts on the previous king’s spending or taxing habits. “But we do have expenses. As do the nobles. And unexpected costs, too. If an irrigation channel in Fremont fails- They will have less money to repair it. They will claim their fields serve all the country, on our tables and through our trading, and ask for money from the crown. And the crown will have less money with which to support them.”

“And we would simply give it without stipulation? Without so much as a glance at their books? Curious considering Fremont’s taxes to the crown have been supposedly steeply cut and they’ve been the very recent beneficiaries of a very generous and inflated sale to Theren, not only in terms of crop but in lumber. Not to mention I’d be severely disappointed in them if all they did with all of that extra profit was sit on it instead of multiplying it.”

Brennan looked angry, then annoyed.

“Which brings me to another concern about the crown’s only income relying on taxes it receives when it could be maximizing profits in other industrious ways. But I’m sure that’s a conversation for another meeting.

Now you can be shocked all you like at the steep number I’ve asked for as a cap but I’ve actually been calculating expenses these past few weeks and numbers man to numbers man... I could ask for higher my lord, but I ask for you to put your vocal support behind…” Nuri leaned back and considered momentarily.

“Seventeen.” He shaved off a few percentages, expecting Lord Brennan to start taking this negotiation seriously.

“No,” Brennan said flatly. “I can’t imagine any of the families going for anything above ten percent. And I do not appreciate the suggestion that I do not carefully audit the records of Fremont- Or any of the families. Lady Roysa can attest that I was crucial in proving that Fremont grain merchants were intentionally tampering with the market only a few years ago,” he said, irked to have to provide his credentials.

Roysa nodded in confirmation of this, as it was certainly true. In reality, it had been Emerson’s information that had been the most useful in untangling that convoluted plot, but that particular detail was known only by Roysa and Emerson- And of course, likely suspected by the Duke of Fremont.

Nuri had to do his utmost not to outwardly groan at the direction this was taking, this was hardly anything to do with Lord Brennan’s credibility. But he was going to go on about it anyway…

“And it was through my efforts that King Elion was able to pass laws imposing stricter regulations and higher fines for nobles who might ‘miscalculate’ their income,” he continued, and Avery echoed his aunt’s nod.

Nuri was about to attempt to soothe Lord Brennan’s ego over when his husband stepped in, and did the job better.

“You have been an excellent ally and advisor to the crown and to this family,” Avery said, trying to soothe the minister’s ruffled feathers. “And I have always appreciated your frankness. So. Why do you feel that setting an upper limit of seventeen percent is unreasonable, especially if most of the families wouldn’t go that far? Could we really not afford even one or two of the nobles doing so?”

Brennan steepled his hands and leaned forward. “My concerns about what the crown can afford financially are secondary to what my concerns about the crown can afford… personally. You specifically, Prince Nuri,” he said, addressing the younger man. “If you offer this deal with the stipulation that it cannot exceed a seventeen percent cut, when almost none of your nobles would ever concede to dropping taxes on their common people by that much…. I worry you are going to look foolish. Like you do not understand this country, or its people.”

“I need enough cushion for them to negotiate down from, and I expect most of them will fall somewhere around the 9 to 12 percent range. I also need the number to be high enough to shock them into wanting to negotiate a better deal than the others. With the implications being that those quickest to come to the table will receive better outcomes.” Nuri hadn’t wanted to be so honest with the Minister, but everything so far was indicating that he was a frank man.

He decided to deliberately ignore the pang of offense he felt at Lord Brennan’s words in favor of pressing on calmly.

“Fifteen percent, be reasonable Minister, the numbers check out. And perhaps if things don’t go well, as you’ve ingeniously pointed out Lord Brennan we have my being a foreigner who foolishly doesn’t know anything about the country or its people to blame and fall back on if things don’t turn out how I’ve predicted. I am the perfect scapegoat, as I could care less what people think of me so long as they take the bai-proposal.” Nuri cleared his throat and folded his hands.

Roysa was glaring, not at Nuri, but at her nephew. If he was aware of it, he ignored it.

“And as you said- They aren’t likely to take it that far,” Avery pointed out. “The few regions who would be willing to cut taxes on their common folk by fifteen percent… Well, I think the crown’s treasury wouldn’t be much poorer if we collected fifteen percent less from Trisvona.”

Brennan made a thoughtful noise that might have been assent. “I would also suggest a limit on the duration of this arrangement,” he said, apparently satisfied with a fifteen percent and ready to move on. “If the deal they agree to locks the rate at which they can tax and the rate at which they will be taxed for say, three years, that stability might be an incentive. And the prospect that it may not be renewed at the end of that period if the crown does not like the effects, will encourage the nobles to make sure their common folk are actually benefiting from the arrangement.”

This suggestion also does the work of continuing the necessity for the nobles to continue to curry favor and negotiate with the crown, which would increase with more poking and prodding from Nuri’s various ideas. Nuri decided he quite liked this Minister, best one he’s met so far.

“That’s a sensible and wise suggestion Minister Brennan, it’s precisely the kind of thing we need.” Nuri grinned and adjusted, leaning back in and looking from Avery to the Minister.

“Are we to take this to mean you will back the proposal?”

“I will be involved in any final negotiations with the interested nobility,” Brennan said with a nod, which Avery had already assumed. He wasn’t about to sign off on a tax cut for anyone without having his Trade Minister, his aunt, and at least a few other people look over it quite carefully. But he supposed Brennan wanted to make sure Nuri knew. “Announcements of court are scheduled in a few days time, I believe- I suggest you include this proposal with them. And then prepare for a lot of traffic through your doors,” he advised.

“Sounds like a plan in motion.” Nuri clapped his hands together in victory, unaware of the ever looming disapproval of the Lady Roysa behind him…

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

Prince Nuri & Lady Roysa
argue while King Avery tries to pretend he's part of the furniture

Prince Nuri

Nuri waited until Lord Brennan arose from his seat and left to heave a sigh of relief.

“I didn’t even have to dangle giving Pendaire the first go as bribe to get him to accept fifteen. That went better than expected, and thank the spirits he didn’t just roll over and give me twenty could you imagine. That man doesn’t know how to barter but we arrived at an agreeable end anyhow.” The Prince relaxed his shoulders and leaned over towards Avery.

“I did get a good laugh at your faces though.” He mischievously quipped.

“I’m glad to provide amusement,” Avery said, also relieved to have cleared this first hurdle.

“I think it went about as well as it could have,” Roysa agreed with a nod. “Though I would appreciate some warning in the future, if you plan to propose so radically reducing the crown’s income,” she said dryly.

“I’ll keep that in mind, but again I don’t expect anyone to accept the fifteen. In fact the whole proposal’s biggest purpose would be failing if they did.”

Roysa’s eyebrow rose incrementally.

“Indeed. We need them to bite, start playing your game rather than theirs.” Cromwell folded his arms, no longer standing so straight but leaning on one foot rather than the other, he was quite tired.

“I was under the impression the proposal’s purpose was stimulating economic growth among the common folk,” Roysa said evenly.

“It shall! The peasantry will be singing my King’s praises for his generosity and industry…” Nuri reached over and tweaked his husband’s chin, his King.

Avery looked surprised at the gesture and ducked his head, blushing slightly.

“...But mostly it’ll help stem this abominable independence your nobles have. Honestly it’s a wonder you haven’t dealt with more insurrection. With this they’re more inclined to scramble to curry favor with the crown and plot against each other rather than with each other.” He eyed Lady Roysa, noting how strangely enough, she didn’t seem pleased by the idea.

“Oh, they plot against each other plenty, don’t you worry,” Avery said with a sigh, shuffling his papers together.

“You are setting yourself up for disappointment if you expect subservience from Beleth nobility,” Roysa cautioned slowly. “This ‘independence’ you find so abhorrent is a long tradition in our culture, and I would advise you not to go about repeating that sentiment you just so freely shared.”

Was that pride Nuri detected in Lady Roysa’s tone? As if the foreigner had just insulted her people’s ways and she must defend them. To be fair he was criticizing them, but for very good reason.

“Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire. I’ll find ways to make them bend. We can’t keep up this tradition of assassins and kidnappers, I refuse to bring heirs into this world, only to suffer their loss at the hands of an unruly court.” He stated pointedly.

“Lord Chancellor,” Roysa said coolly. “Thank you for your assistance in today’s meeting. As the conversation seems to have drifted to matters exclusively regarding Beleth, your assistance is no longer needed.”

She nodded towards the door, in case the dismissal was not clear enough.

Cromwell bowed wordlessly and retrieved his binder, exiting as directed.

“King Elion and his family died at the hands of foreign agitators,” Roysa said icily, and Avery winced.

“Aunt-,” he began, but she pressed on.

“It is possible, to earn the respect of the families,” she said. “And I intend to do everything in my power to ensure you will do so. But please understand- Trying to limit the nobility, expecting them to grovel instead of bow…. Take that too far and then you will see what insurrection in Beleth really looks like,” she warned.

“Tch- You prideful Belethans, thinking that having to answer to your King first is some kind of groveling instead of your duty as honored subjects. Are all of your egos so inflated that you’re still too deluded to understand that it couldn’t have been Theren that assassinated your late King, even if we ignored that Theren honor doesn’t condone assassins or their uses King Elion was negotiating a marriage between my husband and my sister. And those negotiations were going well.” Nuri crossed his arms and stood, clearly challenging Lady Roysa’s assessment, though made uncomfortable at the reveal of that last bit of information. It was a strange thought now where it hadn’t been then, his husband marrying his sister…

Roysa rolled her eyes in either disbelief, annoyance, or some combination of the two.

“I’m Belethan now, if Theren were responsible for that I would take no issue in admitting it. I don’t begrudge what enemies do between lines but Theren and Beleth were not positioned as enemies at that time. Meera, my mother, and even my father were interested in peace. I wasn’t.” He shrugged, taking little shame in the admission.

“Nuri,” Avery said gently. “Initially…. We suspected it might be a frame job. We did investigate. Quite thoroughly,” he admitted. He remembered the sleepless nights after Elion had died, as they desperately chased any lead they could find. “For longer than many found appropriate.”

He hadn’t wanted to go to war in his brother’s name. But he also couldn’t let a king’s death go unanswered. “All of the evidence led back to the Theren throne, even when we tried to take it elsewhere.”

“It couldn’t have been the crown.” Nuri scrowled and insisted to Avery. The only person who’d have dared was his mother or Cromwell, and it had taken their combined efforts to convince father. It made little sense to go through all that trouble only to turn around and foil your own plans. And he had personally heard mother wish many times that she’d actually been responsible for the assassination, at least then father’s death would have made diplomatic sense.

Sometimes, Avery still wondered- As Nuri said, it was out of character for a Theren noble to use a knife for hire. And the timing was odd. And convenient. But. He couldn’t stay awake rethinking every decision he’d made since the first night he’d learned his brother had been killed.

If it had been a frame up job, it had been a very good one indeed.

“You weren’t interested in peace,” Roysa repeated with shocked annoyance, ruining whatever soft tone Avery had been trying to set. “How good to know! You claim you are Belethan now, but you still think as a Theren! That weakening those whose support you will rely on will make you strong,” she said, shaking her head.

“Avery,” she scolded her nephew. “You disappoint me,” she said, and he looked up in surprise at the abdomishment. “Why does your husband not understand our culture? Have you neglected to tell him how Belmys became king- Not through any edict of the Goddess, but through the actions and will of men?”

“I’m afraid we do not have an abundance of time to devote to story-telling,” Avery tried to point out, and Roysa pursed her lips.

“Well, you are certainly not doing anything of note with your nights,” she observed shrewdly.

“We do plenty, dear aunt, not that it would be much use if I produced an heir in the environment we have now. For if you had forgotten the assassination of King Elion is not the most recent incident. If whomever is angry that I’m here now isn’t found, they aren’t going to show mercy to any children of mine, they certainly didn’t to our King.” Nuri’s tone became angrier, embarrassed that she’d dare admonish what his husband and he did in private. Which had admittedly only amounted to a few heated stolen kisses. Avery was very red.

“I believe your Lord Chancellor is responsible for that investigation,” Roysa returned. “You are welcome to assign someone else to it, if you feel he is not doing an adequate job-”

“When he has determined who is responsible, they will face justice for their crime against you and our country,” Avery cut in, his voice even and steady even if his cheeks were still quite pink.

“I will not pretend there is no danger in being a royal of Beleth,” Avery admitted to Nuri with a sigh. “But I cannot assure you that having more docile nobles would lessen that danger- We are a large country, with many resources. While our internal allies may not be the kind you are comfortable with, our external foes are…. More dangerous.”

Pests in your home could cause their share of trouble, but it was the predators beyond that were the bigger threat.

This wasn’t nearly as comforting to Prince Nuri as Avery might presume.

Roysa pinched her nose, annoyed the conversation had gotten so far away from her.

“What I intended to convey was that our people- common and nobles alike- tend to have a strong regional pride. If you wish to see that as an obstacle, I cannot change your mind,” she said sourly. “But please, at least, do not go announcing your intentions that the families should be forced to bend to you- Your position is still precarious enough as it is, without saying things that will quickly earn you unnecessary detractors.

“You take me for a simpleton Lady Roysa. I’ll prove you wrong on that account.” Nuri huffed, ignoring Avery’s attempt at calming the situation. He was aware that it was most likely that he and Lady Roysa weren’t communicating very well and misunderstanding each other, but he was also starting to second guess his own already approved proposal. It wasn’t a bad proposal was it? And did Lady Roysa really think him so dim?

“I said I’d see Princess Graceling this morning. I’d better go.” He sighed and decided to end this meeting, making for the door but stopping himself before he left in a total huff and turning around. He gave the nod that was appropriate to Lady Roysa’s station, thinking that at least he should maintain her and his dignity, as despite their differences, he still needed to respect her, and left.

Roysa frowned after the prince.

“What a temper-”

“As if you had nothing to do with it?”

Roysa frowned at her nephew. “I am only trying to help-”

“I know,” Avery allowed. “But your advice often comes across as criticism, especially to those who are unused to it. And as you said- His situation is still precarious. You cannot fault him for being defensive.”

“You know what would secure his position- It’s been long enough that rumors would have little hold-”

“I know,” Avery said sharply. “We’re… Working on it,” he said, his cheeks a bit pink. He was far less red than he had been when the subject had been discussed in front of Nuri.

“You can tell me, if you are experiencing any… Problems,” Roysa prompted. “Or if it embarasses you, at least discuss it with your physician. I know your husband is not entirely… What you expected, and if you are struggling in that regard-”

“Enough,” Avery said angrily. “You are out of line,” he said coolly. “To speak of my husband and our relationship in such a way. I tell you this as your family, and your King.”

Roysa ducked her head. “Of course,” she demured. If there was a hint of a smile on her lips, Avery did not see it from where he was gathering his papers. “I’ll see myself out,” she said with a slight bow. “Good day, Your Majesty.”

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Emerson & Chancellor Cromwell

discuss beauty tips

Lord Chancellor Cromwell

Cromwell was intruding, it was a family matter they now had to discuss and Cromwell certainly didn’t think he deserved to have to sit around and listen to Nuri put his foot in his mouth and then try to wiggle out of it with an angry Lady Roysa. Who’s professionalism he appreciated but stern temperament he did not. Was there anyone’s temperament he did truly appreciate? He felt he knew too much about people to ever really like them, or perhaps his mood was just sour right now because he was tired.

It was probably because he was tired.

Eager to rectify that Cromwell promptly took Lady Roysa’s queue to leave and bowed out. Finding himself an intruder once more upon another scene in the antechamber; Lord Brennan at much more ease and laughing at something a lounging redhead was saying to him.

At Cromwell’s intrusion he stiffened and nodded at him, excusing himself and mentioning something about dinner as he made to leave.

“I look forward to it,” Emerson called after Brennan as the minister exited the royal apartments.

The redhead in question was lounging on a plush armchair in the antechamber, a slim tome in one hand with which to entertain himself while he waited for the King. Two guards stood stone faced and silent at the door to the King’s sitting room, and a few other members of the Kingsguard and the Prince’s guard sat in the far corner of the room on much simpler furniture, playing a game of dice.

Emerson didn’t usually have a formal spot on Avery’s calendar, and he supposed this was the danger of sulking about in your rooms and avoiding people (or at least one specific person, and any who they might be near) for a week- Your friend got worried and invited you to go out riding and you couldn’t refuse, because your friend was the king.

Or perhaps- more likely- your friend’s aunt suggested he invite you to go out riding on a timetable that would conveniently place you in proximity to the Minister of Trade.

He should probably mention to Roysa that he did not appreciate this, as he had been lying when he’d told Lord Brennan- He wasn’t really looking forward to it.

The grin he’d levelled at the minister fell as the door to the antechamber shut, and Emerson picked up his book to return to his reading- Or he would have.

“Lord Chancellor Cromwell,” he greeted with a tight smile and a small nod. Great. He’d been planning on avoiding the man until he could decide what to do about him, and now here he was. “Good morning.”

He opened his book again, assuming Cromwell had places to be and would be on his way in short order.

Cromwell grunted in reply and plopped down on a loveseat opposite him, staring off at the door Lord Brennan left through, a smirk slowly creeping upon on his mouth as he thought more and more of the situation.

He should’ve just left, he mused as a small puff of air left his nose, his version of outward amusement. But something about the rather uncharacteristically cold greeting from Lord Emerson annoyed Lord Cromwell, and he felt like being a little bit cruel in return. It certainly wasn’t Emerson’s fault that he’d chosen to stay in his office at even more ungodly hours than he usually kept, but he’d certainly been the reason. And hadn’t he pleased him well enough during the festival? Cromwell’d certainly presumed so given the noises he’d made Lord Emerson make and how many times he…

Well, maybe the old man had experience on him or perhaps it was just a combination of familiarity and history between them, but something competitive in Cromwell thought meanly that Lord Brennan didn’t have the stamina to please Lord Emerson. He wanted another go at the task, but he’d throw himself off of a cliff before he’d voice such a thing. If Lord Emerson truly hadn’t enjoyed himself then who was Cromwell to ask for a second go?

Emerson was really trying to ignore the man, but he was making it rather hard to do so. Sitting there and smirking and breathing and whatnot.

“It was a funny meeting, then?,” he asked of Cromwell’s laugh, before he realized he was doing so.

“You seem rather stiff for someone who has dinner with Lord Brennan to look forward to.” Cromwell ignored the inquiry about the meeting, crossing his legs and opening his messy binder, as he might as well attempt to organize it and look busy. He attempted to wipe the amusement off of his face, but was so far only succeeding in hiding his growing smirk with his hand.

Emerson blinked slowly, turning his head a bit to look at Cromwell better. He looked like he wasn’t sleeping the best.

“...I have a few days to make sure I’m plenty relaxed by then,” he told Cromwell flatly. “You look like you could use some relaxation yourself,” he pointed out. “Been pulling late nights in service to the Crown?”

That wiped the smirk off his face pretty well, “I didn’t think it was that obvious…” Cromwell shifted and sighed, glancing at the door to where no doubt arguing was going on.

“I’m very observant,” Emerson shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable to realize he was familiar enough with Cromwell’s face to notice subtle changes. “Hold ice slivers against your undereyes in the morning,” he suggested. “Or a cold spoon.”

“A cold spoon? Is that why the ladies do it?” He had observed Lady Nyme doing that before, and she’d looked ridiculous, but apparently there was a method to the madness.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter however, my job doesn’t require me to look well rested. So long as the work is done.” He was much more talkative than usual, and suddenly keenly aware of that fact. Altogether he’d probably said more than Lord Emerson had, and for some reason he found that embarrassing. He stopped himself from saying anything else.

“It’s been my understanding that the work is never done,” Emerson pointed out. “And when you look well-rested, you give the impression that you are more formidable than your work, and not the other way around,” he advised. “So. Stop staying up so late.”

Cromwell looked to Lord Emerson, surprised. “Do you prefer when I look more formidable?” He blurted out without thinking, but wasted little time in regretting, instead smirking. He doubted Lord Emerson would be worrying over his health like this if he knew that Cromwell only buried himself in his work in the hopes he’d visit him again. As per usual, Cromwell’s intentions were far from noble.

Emerson laughed.

“‘Formidable?’ Is that what you hope you usually look like?”

“So I’m told.” He answered easily, is that not what they whispered about him? Lord Chancellor the many headed snake, chop one off and another will appear in its place. Lord Chancellor the crow, looming over the court like a changing wind, promising stormy clouds. Lord Chancellor of the shadows, he hears your whispers and your secrets. Already he’d increased the number of spies in Beleth tenfold. Where there’d been sparse opportunity for information before the treaty there was now ample opportunity, especially with him physically here.

“Sour, miserable, irritable, lonely, I could go on,” Emerson suggested with a hint of a grin, forgetting he was annoyed at Cromwell in favor of the chance to rib the older man a bit. “Like you get all your quills from ravens who roost outside your windows to provide you with ambience and whatever you think passes for conversation. Honestly, I might find you scarier when I think you’re tired,” he teased. “If only because I dread to imagine what schemes you’ve been staying up to plan.”

Cromwell chuckled lightly, Lord Emerson’s cutting commentary flayed him open but somehow remained charming all the same. He could probably listen to him describe his poor opinion of him in a melodramatic way for hours.

They were interrupted however, by a Prince Nuri barging in and quickly making his way past them, without so much as a greeting or sideway glance. Cromwell watched his supposed excuse for being there leave with a hint of disappointment.

“I concede, ravens are messy, and not nearly as good company as foxes might be.” He said, stony expression back on as he stood up, “Lord Emerson.” He bowed, and left, giving him one last intense glance to hold his eyes before he turned away.

code by @fudgecakez

 

[jones573]

Post Order Edits/Clarity:

Main character change to Nuri takes effect in Post #53, which would go after Post #43 in the ret-conned storyline.

Post #49 (with presumed retcons) takes place the evening after Nuri's confrontation with Emerson and Emerson and Cromwell's subsequent conversation in Post #55.

Post #50 (with presumed retcons) takes a few place after those events, presumably around the same time as Post #57, or perhaps a bit earlier.

 

[jones573]

Sparring Practice

Training Yard, Redhill

Prince Nuri & Princess Grace

By the time Nuri had changed into training clothes his temper had cooled into disappointment, mostly in himself. Why was it that everything he said always seemed to be wrong? Meera enchanted people with every word, and mother ensnared them, but he always seemed to be putting his foot in his mouth. It worked out well for him sometimes, or maybe it was that he was clever enough that his conversational skills mattered very little and he succeeded despite them. He knew not. But it certainly made his life more difficult as of recent.

Things were much more simple and worked out in his favor more often when he wasn’t the consort of a monarch. All these eyes on him. All of these pressures and expectations. No wonder Meera was always thought to be better suited for the position, she thrived in these elements and he was struggling. Even when he got a win he was still struggling. It was barely a season into his marriage no less!

He twirled his practice sword artfully, using the curved Theren blade today, as he came upon Grace, finding a grin came easily at seeing her. Soon after meeting his young sister by marriage Nuri had learned that she was being tutored in swordsmanship and had offered his company and expertise. In particular he was eager to show her a thing or two about fighting dirty with your opponent. Something her instructor eagerly participated in, as apparently Avery cared little if his sister fought honorably so long as she was alive at the end of it. The extent of his husband’s paranoia involving the safety of his loved ones was an ever present bitter sweetness.

Grace and he had fallen into a routine, and often talked privately during these times. He appreciated her advice a great deal, and found she was more insightful than she seemed. Grace was also very talented at making a person have a good time, even if their morning thus far had royally sucked.

“Have your warrior face on today Princess?” He called, already feeling better.

“Prince Nuri!,” Grace exclaimed excitedly, looking over her shoulder towards her brother in law, at the same time as her instructor gave a bow and said “Your Majesty.”

Their combined movements meant that the paintbrush- tied to the end of Grace’s sword, which was held out to the full reach of her arm, which was draped at several points with strips of heavy cloth with lead weights tied to their ends- moved along the piece of burlap the old man had been holding out. He made a noise of triumphant exclamation.

“At least ten laps worth,” Pol said of the long black streak, with what might have been a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“But you moved the parchment!,” Grace said, askance.

“And you should have moved with it!,” he said in his heavy accent, with the gusto of a man who was both annoyed at his student for disappointing him, and looking forward to punishing said student. For each unit of measurement the brush strayed from its starting point, additional exercises were demanded.

Grace supposed she should be grateful it was only running today, and let out a long sigh.

“You keep His Majesty waiting,” Pol accused irritably, gesturing between Grace and Nuri and clapping one hand against his thigh to indicate she should hurry. “Your practice sword, where is it?”

“Oh, are we sparring today,” Grace asked Nuri with a tone of excitement, though her brow soon furrowed. “But I’ve already been out here for hours, I’m tired,” she told her teacher in confusion.

“You sweat a little and think that means no more?,” Pol scoffed. “I will tell those who mean you harm- ‘No, no, only attack when Princess is well rested, when she has eaten, when she is comfortable-” For such a stoic seeming man, he did an excellent job of contorting both his face and voice in mockery and Grace might have laughed if the mockery did not involve her.

Luckily Nuri was free to snort at her expense.

“Yes, Master Pol,” she relented quickly, having discarded the weights and the genuine sword for something with a dulled edge instead. Turned away from the old man, she contorted her own face into one of long-suffering exasperation to give Nuri an indication of how her morning had gone.

“I can’t imagine Vee having been a particularly mouthy boy,” she whispered to her brother in law as they made their way towards the center of the sparring ring. “But he must have talked back to Pol an awful lot, and now the old man takes out his revenge through me,” she joked.

Avery had reassured his sister that his weapons instructor had always been ‘a bit of a character’ and his demeanor was unchanged since Avery’s time as his student… Though he had recently admitted that perhaps the man was slightly more crotchety in his older age.

“Who else is going to ensure that your character develops a distinguished air through hardship and toil Grace.” Nuri said seriously, disguising his free hand reaching up behind her head and roughly mussing up her hair, “The rest of us spoil you far too much!” He gave the sword at her side a harsh clang as he twirled away sharply while she recovered. Trying to rile her up with his challenging smirk, daring her to get revenge.

Grace sighed, having jumped at the sudden attack. “The rest of you lot having been toiling since childhood,” she pointed out, drawing her wooden sword. “I only started in the last year!”

She had improved greatly in that time period, but it didn’t really feel that way from her perspective.

Nuri was personally of the opinion that she’d prove herself to be a talent.

“What are your opponent’s advantages?,” shouted Pol.

“He hasn’t been doing agility and strength training exercises all morning?”

“She has a point.” Nuri shrugged, amusedly taking her side.

Pol looked unimpressed by this answer.

“Uh- More experienced,” she said, which was true of most of her opponents. “Longer limbs, so wider steps and further sword reach,” she added, which was again true of most of her opponents. At least with Nuri it wasn’t quite so great a gap.

“And your advantages?”

Grace paused a little too long. Against Pol or the guards, she was at least a smaller target, and sometimes even a faster one.

“Correct,” roared Pol, shaking an emphatic finger. “You have none!” He sat on a rickety wooden stool and steepled his fingers to watch, and no doubt create an impressive list of things to offer critique on later.

With her practice sword now drawn, Grace gestured it in Nuri’s direction with a grin. “Well! C’mon then- Teach me about distinguished airs!”

Nuri understood why Grace’s lessons focused on her using a sword ill suited to her but that didn’t stop it from bothering him. She wasn’t being trained for battle, she was being trained for survival, which meant using common broadswords and the like, the kind her guard would use.

“Your sword is longer and heavier than mine. Use it to keep me at a distance from you-“ Nuri began trading blows with her at a challenging but not impossible pace.

She blocked them each in turn, though her reactions were always a hair too exuberant and not the tight control of someone who knew exactly where the other blade was going to meet theirs.

“If you swing for my feet you can cripple me and prevent me from getting close enough for my blade to reach you!” He advised, parrying and giving a sharp twirl to suddenly find himself nose to nose with his little sister, blade resting on her shoulder.

Grace grumbled to have been caught off guard, though there was no malice in it.

“I have to work to get close to you with this particular blade, so make me work for it.”

Grace considered Nuri’s unusual weapon as she darted back, trying to look at it with Avery’s eyes instead of her own. She didn’t trip over her own feet while skittering away, and if someone had been looking very closely, they might have seen an imperceptible nod of approval from Pol.

The next time Nuri swung at her, she tried for strength in her block instead of speed, using her sword’s larger size to push back at the prince’s. He didn’t stumble back with the force of it or anything dramatic, but she thought she’d maybe gained a half second or two more to retreat between attacks that she’d hadn’t been getting before.

She sprinted away suddenly and ducked to the left behind a hay bale, hoping Nuri would follow- But maybe in just a moment, after she caught her breath, her fingers clutching the side of the bale.

“Good! But careful hiding behind hay Princess, much harder to avoid or block blind stabbing…” he straightened up and sauntered over, giving her time and letting his voice trail off, disappearing from view on the right should she peak out, and sneaking around silently to try and get the jump on her.

With her fist clutching a heaping of hay, Grace waited with bated breath for Nuri to round the corner, visualizing the way her feet and hands would move as she recalled the many times she had practiced such a maneuver.

She realized her mistake too late too correct it- She’d been thinking of her environment as the layout of the castle, that hiding behind the bale was like turning the corner at the end of a long hall and waiting for her opponent to catch up to her. But there were no stone walls here to prevent shortcuts, and nothing to stop her opponent from just going the other way around.

Luckily, she realized her mistake soon enough to at least react to it, and she whirled to her left just as Nuri came around the corner. She screeched at him, somewhat surprised to see him there and also a bit indignant that he would ruin her plan, and stepped forward before he could. She threw the hay at his eyes, and brought her own sword down hard against the outside of his right knee.

The satisfactory glee Nuri got from Grace’s screeching was short lived as he found himself having to spit hay out of his mouth and hop around from his smarting knee.

Which was all the same given the sharp jab he delivered to her middle as she’d turned around, he found his glee returning though as they quickly got back to trading blows.

This is why he loved sparring with Grace, it was a lot of fun.

“On your left!” He deliberately struck right, “On your right!” He deliberately struck left, playing more mind games with her, she was much less distracted by his trickery this time around.

“Your feet!” He struck at her shoulder.

“You- Are- Being- Very- Rude,” Grace grunted between blows. Keep your eyes on your opponent’s arms and feet, not your ears on their words. Pol had scolded her many times for conversing during sparring, and letting herself get distracted. She did tend to be easily distracted-

She broke into a grin after a dodging turn had allowed her look to their side, and see who had come down from the castle to watch them practice. “Vee! He’s being rude to me,” she shouted in jesting indignation.

A sharp barb of anxiety struck him harder than Grace’s next blow came down upon him, punishment for falling for her own fiendishly clever distraction ploy. [/i]There was no Avery[/i], much to Nuri’s relief and disappointment all at once.

“You scoundrel!” Nuri’s voice raised a good few octaves as he blushed furiously, indignant and embarrassed. Grace grinned widely, forgetting to continue to press the advantage she had won.

He got back at her by locking her sword over her head in an upswing in an attempt to kick her feet out from under her, a move he also frequently liked to pull with Grace and inevitably turned into a who-can-stomp-on-whose-feet-successfully match. Which just looked like a bunch of giggling and grumbling and dancing around until Master Pol told them to knock it off.

“VeEeEeE hE’s bEiNg RuDe tO mE.” He mocked back at her as he tried to stomp on the royal toes.

“Enough,” barked Pol, having gotten tired of the hay bale blocking his line of sight and suspecting the two’s fighting may have gotten derailed. He looked displeased to be proven right. “I will have you drilling position exercises if you cannot be trusted to spar with composure!”

“Sorry master Pol, my fault.” Nuri huffed before sighing and directing them back towards the open space.

Grace straightened and returned to a defensive pose, her face looking completely calm and innocent.

He considered her for a moment before dropping into a low stance and getting serious, it was time to up the ante on technique. His next blows were not so kind or considerate as they had been earlier in their spar, and Grace had to respond in kind.

Coding notes: Changes made to font size and color

code by @fudgecakez

 

[jones573]

A Relaxing Respite

The Hot Springs, Redhill

Prince Nuri & Princess Grace

“I can’t believe Vee hasn’t taken you down here,” Grace exclaimed as they descended the winding stone steps carved into lower levels of the castle. “Wait, no- I can totally believe it,” Grace amended. “He doesn’t actually take much time to relax, does he,” she sighed. “Most people don’t usually use the springs until after the Huntress’ festival,” she explained. “But you can come down whenever you like! We have our own set of pools,” she said.

Nuri looked around with the care he afforded any new terrain, it felt odd, going into a part of the castle he’d never been in before just when he’d thought he’d become familiar with it.

The stairs ended in a circular room, illuminated by a shaft of light from far, far above. “Those are the pools for the other nobles,” Grace said, gesturing to the left and leading Nuri to the right instead. It led into a dark hallway, illuminated by braziers on the wall. Their guards stayed behind in the circular room.

“Is it considered inappropriate for us to use those?” He asked, not knowing the etiquette of such matters in Beleth.

“Of course! You can use either,” Grace explained. “But the private ones are more… Well, private. And you can bring people to these ones, too- I’ll bring my friends sometimes. But if there’s a party down here or I’ve come with a big group, we use the public ones.”

That was good to know, thought Nuri, that Beleth’s culture was not wholly different in this matter to Theren’s.

The hall wasn’t long, and ended in an oblong cave. There were multiple pools of various sizes, steam rising off their surfaces. On the far end, there was a thick door built into the rock, slightly hidden from view. On the end they had entered, there were alcoves carved into the cave wall, each covered in a curtain.

Grace ducked behind one, stripping off her training clothes and reaching into the carved shelves of the alcoves to grab a thin linen robe.

Nuri stepped into one himself, less sure as he observed everything and scrunched his nose at the smell. He reached for the linen robe on the shelves and smelled then linen, expecting it to smell of sulfur like the water, but a freshened lavender smell pleasantly greeted him instead.

“Lavender, thank goodness, I’m still not used to the smell of the water here. I suppose that’s why so much perfume is put into the bath water…” He mused aloud as he undressed, thinking back to the smell of salt in the air, a smell he found he deeply missed. “I’m starting to feel like Meera, she always had things like orange slices and flower petals put in her baths.”

He carefully unwrapped the thin cloth that helped flatten his chest, flexing his torso by raising his arms over his head and relaxing. There wasn’t much to flatten, but he still insisted upon doing it as it bothered him. It only became an issue of comfort when physical activity was involved, he was long used to it by now though.

Grace laughed. “I hardly notice it anymore,” she admitted as she emerged, “But yes- Lots of options down here!” Along the side of each pool was a row of small containers, labeled as different scents. “I usually go for eucalyptus,” she said. “But I’m fine to try something new if you like! Or we can use separate pools, and each do our own,” she offered. Most of the small pools were clumped together with only thin walls of rock separating them, allowing individuals to enjoy their own water while still being within talking distance. “Don’t worry about how much you dump in- It gets strained out with nets after we leave,” she said.

Nuri sifted through the scents but only to find the rose one and point it out, “Oh no I’m not Meera Princess, if I were her she’d insist upon rose, would have nothing else. A lady must have her signature scent you know.” He imitated her voice poorly by raising his own and rolling his eyes, opening the cap of the rose scent just to smell it and remember her before putting it back.

The way Grace guided him in these matters was similarly polite and accommodating to how he’d imagine Meera would’ve been to a new comer. A real lady’s manners, the kind that came from being raised a Princess.

“Whichever you like is good with me, I trust your tastes better than mine in such pursuits. If I had my way my doublets would still be plain.” He stepped in after her.

“Eucalyptus it is,” Grace declared, pouring out a generous amount of the oil and the small leaves mixed in with it. “I like to imagine it helps with the muscle stiffness, in addition to smelling nice,” she said, sitting down on the stone bench carved into the pool and leaning back, her robe billowing out a bit in the water before stilling. “Which I surely need after I was so cruelly beaten about today!”

That earned her a splash in the face.

“Bruises today save you cuts tomorrow.” He repeated master Pol, who had a point.

Grace rolled her eyes an impressive rotation and sighed, sinking further into the water and stretching her legs out to wiggle her toes.

“When Vee said he wanted me to learn to defend myself, I was determined I would make an adventure out of it,” she said. The alternative to enjoying it was remembering why it was necessary- The days between Elion’s death and Avery’s return from the summer palace, when every noise and dark corner had held danger, even with her full guard escorting her between the throne room where she’d made her stone-faced announcements, and her quarters where she’d wept into her aunt’s lap.

“My friends and I were going to make a game of it,” she continued, but her friends had attended fewer and fewer lessons as the months went on, and she couldn’t really blame them. “But I think Master Pol is thus far winning,” she grumbled. “Vee should order him to take embroidery lessons from me,” she groused, pleased at the image of the old instructor stabbing himself with a needle.

Nuri snorted, “Revenge of the accutest kind.” He refrained from letting her mind wander to getting revenge on him, as he didn’t hardly remember a thing about embroidery. Having stopped lessons of that nature when he was young.

“Speaking of dark matters like revenge… I’m pretty sure I’ve earned Lady Roysa’s ire.” He heaved out a sigh, letting his head fall back lazily as he slumped against the carved stone.

“Everything was going so well this morning, Minister Brennan is going to back my tax proposal, but… Besides the obvious benefits of the proposal I had meant it as a way to engage the nobles further. To get them to curry favor from the crown and negotiate better rates for themselves in exchange for key things we want. A court engaged and competing with each other is a safer and more secure court for the crown. Nobles are less likely to speak against you if they’re trying to curry favor you know. But Lady Roysa took this as an insult to regional pride when I told her I thought the nobles were far too independent minded. Telling me I don’t understand Beleth’s people.”

Grace beamed to hear this, as though such bickering were a positive sign.

“I’ve not been here long so I suppose that’s a fair assessment, but I still disagree at the state of the nobility from what I’ve seen thus far. And then she got angry when the topic turned to the negotiations between my parents and the late King. I was honest with her and told her there was no possible way anyone in my family could have done what they’re accused of. As I was the only one not in favor of peace with Beleth, and besides, assassins are not the Theren Warrior way. Maybe my mother could have done such a thing, being from Ruhar, but she too was in favor of peace and convinced my father to her side. Much to my chagrin at the time.”

He tried to be as vague as possible while still allowing her to understand what had transpired, not wanting to upset her around the subject of her late brother.

Grace’s grin had fallen, and she shifted uncomfortably.

“... I think,” Grace said cautiously, “That the matter of Elion’s death is not something you and Roysa are likely to ever agree on. She has drawn her conclusions based on the evidence that was collected in the aftermath and she- and Avery, and most of the court and the common folk,” Grace warned, “Found that evidence strong enough to overrule what is known of Theren culture and custom. Unless you have discovered something previously unknown, you are just fighting a pointless, tiring struggle.”

“That’s wise council.” Nuri peaked over at her, “If only I’d been so wise at the time. Now I think I’ve given her and Avery to think poorly of me. More than usual anyway.”

“They don’t think poorly of you,” Grace said immediately. “Or well- Avery certainly doesn’t. And I rather doubt Roysa does,” she amended with a slight smile. “When Roysa seemed upset with you- Was it similar to ‘dear child, please do refrain from speaking in front of company’,” she intoned piously in an excellent imitation of her aunt. “Or more of a ‘I must urge you to reconsider the wisdom of vocalizing such notions’?,” she asked. She was either very good at imitations, or had a particular wealth of practice with this one in particular.

Nuri straightened, his brow furrowing, he couldn’t tell which. Ah wait, he snapped his fingers, “She did specifically say something along the lines of the latter. I thought at the time she must think me stupid for even considering indulging anyone outside of present company would be appropriate.”

“Roysa rarely offers actual criticism to people she dislikes,” Grace said with a small smile. “Or to those she thinks to be a hopeless cause. If she tells you she believes you were wrong, it’s because she believes you can do better. If she tells you what she thinks you should have done instead, it’s because she’s trying to help you achieve that better. It’s not the most conventional way to show affection,” Grace allowed with a shrug. “But she’s never been much for tight embraces.”

“She gives her time and criticism to those she’s invested in…” Nuri parroted back, thinking, he’d have to not be so defensive in that case. If her criticism would come often and with the intention of helping. That’d be an adjustment for him, as he smarted every time his mother criticized him. Lady Roysa was not his mother, and he’d have to keep that in mind.

“Ugh and then she got on my case about… about the heir problem.” Nuri shifted uncomfortably, thinking the heat in his cheeks must be from the steaming pool.

“Oh?,” she asked. Grace’s face was already pink from the water, so if she was embarrassed by the mention of her brother’s intimate life- or surprised to hear it was ‘a problem’- she didn’t show it.

“Frankly I quite like that Avery and I are going slow, so she and the rest of the kingdom are just going to have to wait. I expected him to be much worse than this but he’s… very sweet to me. I want to be sweet to him back. You know, court him properly. Is there anything in particular you know your brother loves?” Nuri quickly found a productive direction the subject could take instead of talking about his embarrassing feelings.

“He’s the most irritatingly practical man I’ve ever known,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I wish I could blame it on his coronation, but he’s been like that for awhile. You know he used to be the one to take me down here, when we were young?,” she said with a pout. “I don’t even bother suggesting it anymore.”

Nuri scoffed, mayhaps he could suggest to Avery later that they all three of them should relax in these baths more often. The waters were quite pleasant once you got the smells.

She hummed, considering Nuri’s question as her hand trailed circles on the surface of the pool.

“He’s partial to almonds, and sweets that use them for flavoring,” she said. “He likes being outside- I’d think he’d spend all day tramping about the grounds and sleep there too, if he could. As it is, he can usually only get Em to go walking the trails with him, through either a great deal of coercion or an offer of abundant alcohol. Though I might be more inclined to join if he had a more reasonable idea of what constitutes a ‘walk’, rather than a ‘climb’,” she sighed.

A vague idea started to form in Nuri’s head.

Grace enjoyed the time she spent with her brother, riding their horses about their home, enjoying the fresh air and the occasional picnic. But she wasn’t going to spend half an hour or more, hiking up a nearly vertical path, no matter how spectacular he promised the view to be.

“He and Gilda mostly wrote letters to each other,” she revealed. “I think he liked being able to… Take his time, with his words. And she would illustrate hers, sometimes- Drawings and little sketches, of life in Merid.”

“Oh. I think I would find it pretty embarrassing if Avery found out that I’d sketched his likeness more than once…” He confessed.

The grin that spread across Grace’s face was wide with delight, and a hint of mischief.

“Really,” she exclaimed. “I did not realize you were an artist! You’ll have to show me sometime- Or him,” she teased. She contemplated Nuri’s quandary a bit more.

Nuri grimaced.

“I used to think he didn’t like surprises,” she said. “But that’s not quite true- He just doesn’t like being put on the spot, for words or some specific reaction. Emerson seems to be the most successful at finding things he’ll like, I’m sure he’d be happy to help you,” she suggested.

His grimace deepened. Even if Lord Emerson were so inclined Nuri'd rather cut his hand off than ask him for help.

“But I’m sure he would be happy enough to spend time with you,” she said, with a secretive smile that she didn’t manage to hide very well at all. “Like our aunt, he is not always the most effusive with his emotions,” she admitted. “But I think he does like you rather a lot.”

“Well…” He began contemplatively, “I’ve never been allowed to show off what I can do in the arts, so maybe now that there's no Meera to defer to, I can do as I please and see if he appreciates what I can do.” He thought out loud, comfortable enough around Grace to be more honest than he tended to be with anyone. Save Avery.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Grace told him with a smile, sinking further under the water as they enjoyed their respite from the morning’s activities. An excellent idea indeed.

Coding notes: Changes made to font size and color

code by @fudgecakez

 

[jones573]

A Conversation Between Friends

The Redhill Grounds

Avery & Emerson

Interacting: King Averett & Lord Emerson
Location: Redhill castle grounds
Timing: After the meeting with Lord Brennan, roughly concurrent to the scenes with Grace & Nuri


They rode in comfortable silence for a while, breaking it only on occasion to comment on the weather or a passing bird. Among others, Emerson’s silence migh be unusual and remarked upon, or at least noted as odd, but he didn’t need to worry about that with the king. Avery knew him well enough to know that as much as the other man liked to talk, he also liked not having to talk, and cherished the times he was not expected to.

Eventually however, Avery knew he must acknowledge what had been unsaid.

“So,” Avery started. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Emerson frowned. “I didn’t realize you’d be so hurt I skipped sparring practice, I apologize,” he said genially. It wasn’t exactly unheard of for him to be lax with his commitments, especially where the King was concerned. Avery had a whole guard retinue to spar with, and he frequently invited other squads to join so that he could assess them. He wasn’t hurting for practice partners.

“I’m not hurt,” Avery said, with a slight eye roll. “I hardly care about that,” he said honestly. “But you have not come by my quarters to pester me, you have sent your servants to communicate with me in your place, you have only been at court dinners that conflicted with my own schedules- Ever since you and Nuri…. Had words,” Avery said, turning slightly on his horse so he could fix his friend with a pointed look.

“Ah, so he told you about that,” Emerson said.

“Of course,” Avery said, a furrow in his brow at the implication that Nuri wouldn’t have. “And I was hoping you might tell me about it, too.”

“Wait,” Avery said after a moment’s consideration. “Were you avoiding me because you were hoping he would have to tell me first?”

“Of course not,” Emerson scoffed. Well, maybe a little. “I thought…” He struggled to put words to his intent. “You are married now,” he said eventually. “Your relationship with Prince Nuri takes precedence.”

Avery frowned. “I am married, not banished. Having a husband does not preclude me from having friends.”

Emerson was silent for awhile. “Was he very angry with you?”

He wasn’t sure what exactly Nuri had told Avery- About what he’d assumed Mercy had overheard, or even about his own conversation with Emerson.

“He wasn’t pleased,” Avery admitted with a sigh. “But- It was a misunderstanding, what he thought about me and you. I managed to convince him of that.”

“And how exactly did you do that?”

Emerson had tried, and had felt it was a futile endeavor.

“... I showed him,” Avery said. “My back.”

“Ah,” Emerson said carefully. “Well, I suppose it was inevitable, wasn’t it? How did he take it?”

“Well enough,” Avery replied. “He isn’t- He isn’t Belethan. He doesn’t…. Perceive it, the way that we do.”

“As proof the gods have abandoned you?” Emerson’s voice was mocking, but his tone was sharp. “Evidence you have been forsaken?”

This particular subject- and most of the ones adjacent to it- was something the two of them had ample experience avoiding. They talked around it, and even when they did address it, they came at it from the side. An attempt to prevent either of their tempers from flaring or guilt being fought over, though it didn’t always work.

“It should have been me,” Emerson said bitterly after a moment. “I was already abandoned.” The gods had deserted him long ago, before he’d even been born.

“No,” Avery said, so sharp with anger that his horse’s ears twitched back in surprise. He breathed in through his nostrils. “You... Would not have survived the blood loss,” he pointed out after a moment.

There was silence behind him, broken only by the soft footfalls of their horses. Avery’s lip curled in anger at Emerson’s unsaid reply, the words of prior conversations echoing in his ears.

“And I would not have survived your loss,” he said as calmly as he could, though his voice was tight.

“Hmm,” Emerson said, a noise of neither affirmation or disagreement.

They rode in silence several minutes longer, both unsure of how to proceed, until Emerson decided to simply ignore the painful tangent and return to the previous topic.

“So,” he said. “Your husband no longer dislikes me?”

“Well,” Avery hedged. “He… Understands how events were... Misconstrued.”

“Perhaps if I offer to give him a massage as well, all shall be put to right?,” Emerson suggested, a mischievous hint in his tone. “I have been told I have excellent hands,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

The gesture was not in vain, as Avery looked over his shoulder sternly and frowned at the faces the redhead was making.

“You are a nuisance,” Avery declared, and Emerson laughed.

“I’m guessing he spoke… harshly to you,” Avery said, with some concern. “He should not have. I will have him apologize to you-”

“No,” Emerson said curtly. “You’ll do no such thing.”

Avery looked like he might protest, but Emerson continued.

“Dictating how he interacts with me is not going to improve the relationship between us,” he said. “And it’s going to worsen your relationship with him. Besides,” Emerson said with a shrug. “It’s fine. I’ve heard much worse.”

“I would like for the two of you to be friends,” Avery admitted with a frown.

“That will have to happen without your intervention,” Emerson counseled. “And perhaps a great deal of time.”

This did not seem entirely satisfactory to the king, and his friend sighed.

“Vee- Things change,” he said. “People change. You are king, you are married, you are going to have your own family. This is a…. Natural breaking point, in our relationship.”

“Don’t be dense,” Avery said crossly.

“You’re the one being dense,” Emerson shot back. “How did you imagine this playing out? I still sit in on family dinners when Queen Mother Agora is visiting? Your children- future monarchs of two countries- are going to grow up with their royal aunties who teach them diplomacy, and their lil’ ol’ bastard uncle who teaches them to cheat at cards and barter at brothels?”

“I- You’re my friend,” Avery protested.

“And I still will be,” Emerson relented. “But maybe- You could have some other friends, too. Friends… More suitable to a respected monarch.”

Avery sighed. Their aimless route had led them to the orchards, and they made their way through the skeletal trees planted in even spacings like soldiers at attention.

“And I suppose, you have some candidates in mind?”

“Lady Roysa does, I believe,” Emerson admitted. “Some people who are already at court, some couples she thinks you and Prince Nuri might get on well with if they were to be invited for a stay-”

“I’m not opposed to... Socializing,” Avery said, a bit grumpily. “But I resent it being made into some sort of project.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Emerson said airly. “They’re mostly fine- Lord Escalus is a decent enough fellow, by all accounts. And you didn’t hear it from me, but he seems more likely to inherit his father’s title than his brother despite the….” Emerson gestured at one side of his face. “...Situation.”

“What do you know?,” Avery asked curiously. The fact that Escalus was at Redhill this season was a bit of a surprise- The stain on his face he’d been born with was bad enough, but the attempts to remove it when he’d been a child had been disastrous, and a source of great shame for his family. Everyone assumed he’d be kept out of the public eye as much as possible, and his younger brother would inherit instead.

“Nothing I learned honestly, so don’t you trouble yourself over it,” Emerson said with a cheerful wave of his hand.

It might have been embarrassing to have an heir whose face told the story of your family’s failings. But when the alternative was an heir who could neither read nor write- Well. Emerson was quite sure the younger brother was not going to become a duke.

“And what do I talk about with Lord Escalus? I don’t think we have much in common,” Avery protested.

“Nonsense, you’ve far more in common with him than with me,” Emerson scoffed. “And riveting conversation is hardly the point, stop being obtuse. You invite him to a night of drinking and cards, or go hunting- Invite Ches and some of his friends, make a whole party of it.”

It was Avery’s turn to look incredulous.

“Ches? Your cousin, Chester? He used to set hunting dogs on you,” Avery said with obvious disdain. “He nearly drowned you in a well when you were boys!”

“Well, let’s not hold that against him,” Emerson obliged. “He was just following along with the bigger children, he’s hardly an independent mind. I think the worst thing he ever did to me personally was lock me in a root cellar, and even that I suspect he was put up to-”

“And how long were you in that cellar?,” Avery asked icily.

All night, most of the next day and then a few hours more, until Vienna had noticed his absence at the family’s evening meal and gone looking for him. It had been dark and cold, but at least he had not gone hungry.

Emerson waved off Avery’s concerns with a brush of his hand. “He’s much more mature now-”

“You’ve described him as ‘having the personality of cold oatmeal’, on more than one occasion,” Avery said.

“Exactly- Wholesome, fulfilling, strong consistency, remarkably non-poisonous compared to the breakfast foods I would use to describe the rest of my family-”

Avery’s thoroughly unimpressed glare finally broke Emerson’s resolve, and the redhead began to laugh.

“All right, all right, I just think it would be funny- He tries so hard, Vee, I’m imagining him trying to make conversation without Vienna’s assistance and frankly it’s hilarious-”

“You wouldn’t even be around to bear witness,” Avery reminded him.

“Yes, I suppose I would have to rely on your second hand accounts, and you are a terrible storyteller, pity,” Emerson mused.

The corner of the king’s mouth lifted into a slight smile and Emerson rolled his eyes.

“Of course I’ll still be your friend,” the redhead relented. “It would just be good for you to have a…. Wider, more palpable social circle, that you interact with beyond events your aunt organizes.”

Avery turned and raised his eyebrows.

“All right, beyond events that your aunt has publicly organized.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And maybe I need time to myself, did you ever think of that,” Emerson joked. “Being your only friend is such a burden on my schedule, you know. I have other things I want to do, other people I want to see.”

“Mm-hmm,” Avery agreed, his lip twitching. “Like a certain new dark-haired lover?”

What.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emerson said as smoothly as possible.

“You aren’t as subtle as you think you are, you know,” Avery said, clearly pleased to have the upper hand.

How did he possibly know, Emerson wondered. It had happened once-

“You are lucky Captain Harpe is a consummate professional- Or else she might wish to have words with you. Though I suppose she has long since given up the illusion that she has any control over her sister’s life.

-Oh.

“Mariah and I-,” Emerson began. Are just friends. Are working on a new song, and a repertoire she might one day play at court. Are meeting up to commiserate over our word-sparse, soldier-minded loved ones? “Are not in the business of explaining ourselves to others,” Emerson finished primly and Vee chuckled.

“Of course, of course. Well- So long as you’re both enjoying yourself, I suppose,” he allowed, and Emerson smirked.

“Oh, very much so, why just the other day I enjoyed her considerably-”

“I don’t care to hear the details,” Avery interrupted. “I just- It’s been over a month now at least you’ve been seeing her, hasn’t it?,” he asked, and Emerson nodded hesitantly.

It wasn’t unthinkable, for Emerson to be seeing someone for that long, but it wasn’t common- Especially considering the regularity with which he visited her in town and she came to visit him, and the fact that it wasn’t really convenient compared to a lover at court…. It made sense, that Avery might think this particular relationship more serious than others.

“I’m glad,” Avery said, with a slight smile that irritated Emerson for some reason, even though he had just moments ago decided it was best to just let his friend assume whatever he wanted.

“You seem… Similar in many ways,” Avery mused. “You seem good for each other.”

Emerson was astonished at Avery’s capacity for being entirely wrong. They were similar in many ways, which was why Emerson always felt exhausted after having spent time with her. Mariah was a good woman and he liked her and was happy to help her but gods…. He was glad she was more interested in telling bawdy stories than experiencing them.

He preferred someone who- Well... What did he prefer? He supposed it didn’t really matter, any more than it mattered to let Avery believe this fiction.

He was distracted by a small white speck, drifting across his eyeline and settling on his horse’s mane.

“Ah, here it comes then,” he said, and both he and the King looked up at the white sky and the flakes that had begun floating down from it.

“Shall we head back then?,” Emerson asked. They were both dressed warmly enough, but it was reasonable to assume the weather might pick up soon, and it was at least a half hour’s ride back to the stables.

“Of course,” Avery agreed, and they turned their horses around one tree and began back the way they had come, only now in a different aisle.

After a minute, Avery made a thoughtful noise. “Actually,” he said hesitantly. “There was… Something, I wanted to speak with you about.”

Interest piqued, Emerson rode closer so that their horses were parallel and they had to be careful not to brush against the others legs. It was tight spacing between the aisle of trees, but Emerson thought Avery might prefer the opportunity to speak more quietly.

The guards were positioned far enough away that they could not have overheard much in the first place, and they were all loyal to Avery…. But all the same.

“It’s about the Lord Chancellor,” Avery said after a moment. “Have you had a chance to consider your position on him?”

Emerson felt his stomach twist. He’d recently been considering quite a number of positions on Cromwell- But he doubted that was what Avery was asking about him.

“Your aunt and I have recently decided to treat him with… Healthy wariness, but not suspicion. Not trust yet, but the presumption that it may one day exist.”

“But you have already investigated him, and found no obvious reason we should think him an enemy,” Avery clarified and Emerson nodded in agreement, and some confusion.

“Vee- What is this about?”

It had been Avery who had wanted to trust the man, and Emerson who’d doubted that- And now that he’d finally decided to trust his friend’s judgement, he was changing it. Of course.

“I have recently learned,” Avery said stiffly. “That he- That is to say… He has not always acted in Nuri’s best interests,” he finally finished.

“In what ways?,” Emerson asked.

“I will not elaborate further,” Avery said- It was an apology, not a dismissal, but he still said it a bit sharply, and Emerson could tell he was angry about it, even if he was trying to act as though he wasn’t.

“... Did he act in ways that were not in the prince’s best interests,” Emerson asked cautiously, trying to understand further without prying, “Or did he act in ways that were against the prince’s best interests?”

“Against,” said Avery tightly.

“And by doing so, was he potentially acting in the interest of instead his monarch, or Theren in general?”

Avery considered this for a moment. “It could be… Potentially justified in that manner,” he allowed grudgingly.

Emerson sighed. On the one hand, he didn’t want to dissuade Avery from being wary- It was a healthy thing, to be at least a bit suspicious of possible new allies. But-

“Cromwell isn’t the prince’s personal advisor,” he reminded Avery. “The responsibilities of his role- and his past roles- have not necessarily included His Majesty’s interests. It is only very recently, in fact, that Prince Nuri’s fate has become so much more… linked to that of his country.”

He didn’t know why he was defending Cromwell... Except because Emerson himself had acted - or not acted - in ways that did not always serve Grace’s best interests, or Elion’s, or even Beleth’s on more than a few occasions.

“Obviously, I do not know the whole story,” Emerson allowed. “But it may be the case that you do not either. Perhaps he was not able to act-”

“He could have,” Avery said tersely. “He should have.”

Emerson was well aware of the different ways his friend’s temper showed through, and he guessed that if they continued to dwell on what had happened- whatever it was- Avery would start shouting, and potentially start hacking at tree with a sword as if it were an axe. Which would accomplish nothing except anger the weaponsmaster.

“All right then,” he said calmly. “What do you want to do about it then?”

The shift of focus to the future seemed to help, and Avery considered.

“I want-,” he contemplated before sighing. “It isn’t him I want to punish,” he admitted after a minute. “He’s just who is most convenient.”

Emerson had given up trying to guess what this was about- Knowing Avery, it was either something very serious, or something incredibly trivial that Avery had decided to take very seriously, for presumably idiotic but endearingly noble reasons.

“But,” Avery added after a beat. “It was unacceptable nonetheless, and such a lapse cannot happen again. If he means to stay here-”

“Does he,” Emerson interrupted, curious. “Mean to stay here?”

He was only interested in the answer, as it pertained to the current conversation. And for no other reason.

“I don’t actually know,” Avery admitted with a frown, and Emerson felt something akin to disappointment. “But if he is- Well. We can’t exactly just host another country’s chancellor for an indeterminate amount of time.”

This was exactly the point Emerson had brought up a month prior, but he tried to take pride that Avery had finally reached the same conclusion, instead of feeling exasperated.

“My own… Current feelings aside,” Avery said, with much consternation. “He has the potential to be a strong ally, and an asset to our plans. He is familiar with Theren government and society at multiple levels, he understands trade well, he doesn’t have any associated baggage with our noble families, he did excellent work on a recent project with Nuri,” Avery listed.

It sounded like a very rehearsed list, Emerson thought, as though Avery had been reminding himself of these things to stop him from punching Cromwell in his smug, arrogant, handsome face-

“And of course, if he were to agree to become an official advisor to the crown here in Beleth, it would be a commensurate position-”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Emerson said, and Avery frowned.

“In Theren, he’s a lord. He earned the rank of nobility- Land and title and all of it,” Emerson explained. “But he can’t be a lord in Beleth.”

Avery considered this. “He could marry into it,” he suggested, and Emerson lifted his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” Emerson agreed, though he didn’t like the idea for a reason he couldn't quite articulate. “A cousin, or youngest daughter of a lesser family. But an equivalent position? Would be an inheriting one,” he pointed out. “And I can’t think of a single duchy or even barony that would take a common born man from Theren as their son-in-law and future head of family.”

After a moment he added, “At least not without some substantial leverage material- I don’t think we have any at the moment, though of course that could change-”

“Stop planning blackmail,” Avery ordered. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. I only wanted to know if you had found tangible evidence that we ought to distrust him.”

“No,” Emerson admitted. “Per your aunt’s suggestion, I wasn’t going to keep outright looking, but I could continue,” he offered.

It would be awkward, since he’d been avoiding the man since their… Encounter earlier in the week, but their conversation this morning had been fine. A little stilted in some places, but Emerson could work with that. He’d look a little desperate hanging around, now that Cromwell was satisfied with returning to polite professionalism, but it wasn’t like he was a stranger to acting foolish, so.

Avery made a noise that was neither a confirmation nor a denial, so Emerson assumed it was probably the first and Avery was just too idealistic to actually say so.

“I agree that I was… Naive, to assume that our treaty as countries meant we should ally ourselves unconditionally as individuals,” Avery said, which Emerson rolled his eyes at. That much was obvious, though he didn’t actually think Avery had been being that naive. “I think for now, we should… Evaluate opportunities we might use to get Cromwell more invested here in Beleth.”

That sounded reasonable enough, and Emerson nodded.

“If he is going to continue being here, I would like for him to be more… Embedded with Beleth and our interests,” Avery said.

If it had been Roysa lingering over a certain word in that sentence, Emerson would be sure he had been caught out- As it was, he was certain Avery was just taking his usual time with words in the hopes he would sound more deliberative.

Fairly certain, at least.

Emerson rarely blushed and was proud of his ability to suppress that reaction- It annoyed him that his face was flushed pink now because of the snow and the wind, and had to console himself with the fact that it had at least not gotten any pinker.

“I will endeavor to embed him,” Emerson said straight faced, and Avery’s distinct lack of reaction soothed Emerson’s worries about what his friend might know.

“All right then,” Avery said with a nod. “We shall simply have to be aware, and see what happens next,” he decided, apparently satisfied with this conclusion.

Having left the orchard behind, their horses drifted apart and they made their way through the woods with spatterings of conversations. Emerson was admittedly a bit distracted, thinking how he might recover from his previous error and reinstate a relationship with Cromwell that might allow him to keep an eye on the chancellor and his affairs. His professional affairs.

They paused at the crest of a small hill, and Avery pointed across the forest, to an area that looked much the same to Emerson as the rest of it. He wasn’t actually sure where exactly Avery was pointing, or why he was doing it until the king spoke.

“That’s where we took the deer down,” he explained. “During the hunt.”

“Ah,” Emerson said. “That’s a far distance- Did you have a good time, then?”

“It was fine,” Avery said with a shrug. Emerson assumed this meant it had been enjoyable enough, but that Avery felt guilty for taking part in something Emerson disliked.

“And you wore your masks the whole time?,” he asked, curious about what he’d heard.

“Not the whole time, and not everyone,” admitted Avery as they rode down the hill. “Made it a bit difficult to see,” he allowed. “But people seemed to like it.”

“Well, all the better I skipped out,” Emerson said. “I can find formal wear in my wardrobe to match a fox’s face, but a riding outfit I might have more difficulty with,” he joked, and Avery chuckled a bit at his friend’s fastidious tastes.

-Wait.

Emerson replayed the conversation he’d had this morning with Cromwell. He’d been a bit confused by the Chancellor’s farewell, but had assumed it to be some sort of Theren saying he wasn’t familiar with- Presumably about the value of hard work or something equally banal.

But… If he was the ‘fox’…. Oh.

Oh, he had been being very stupid, Emerson realized, and mentally kicked himself. How had he not seen this? It was so obvious in hindsight, why hadn’t he seen it-

He hadn’t spoiled things with the chancellor at all- Or at least, not yet he hadn’t. He might though, if he didn’t act soon. Did he have any plans for tonight? He could probably find out where Cromwell would be (his office, most likely) and stop by-

No, no. Best not to seem too eager. Tomorrow, or the day after.

It was all salvageable, Emerson thought, with something like relief. Relief- And maybe just a hint of anticipation.

code by @fudgecakez

 

[jones573]

Flashback

Lord Emerson, King Averett & Lady Roysa

Interacting: King Averett, Lord Emerson and Maxwell; King Averett, Lord Emerson and Lady Roysa
Location: Redhill Castle
Timing: Flashback scene, takes place after Nuri first arrived in Redhill


“This all looks fine,” Avery said, leafing through the pile of notes and letters that had accumulated in his absence as he walked through the halls of Redhill, Maxwell and Emerson on either side of him, and guards ahead and behind. He frowned at one of them, and then passed it to Emerson.

“Could you look into that? And if it seems legitimate, draft a response thanking him for his inquiry, but no, the crown is not interested in the offer, generous as it may be,” he instructed his friend, passing a letter to the redhead.

“You’ve got a designated secretary, you know,” Emerson groused, though he took the note without much genuine complaint.

“Whose next few weeks are booked solid writing missives of thanks to my attendees and gift givers,” Avery reminded him. “See if the generals can meet with me earlier in the morning,” he told Maxwell, who nodded and scribbled something down in his notebook. “I’d like to strong arm as many of them as possible into coming with me to visit the barracks after.”

Outside the door to his chambers, he paused and sighed.

“How long has she been waiting?”

“Not too long, Your Majesty. I let her in maybe 20 minutes ago,” Maxwell replied.

“And before she informed you that she wanted to speak with me as soon as I got back?”

“I believe she had not left her rooms since getting news of the attack on your party,” the manservant said cautiously.

Since she had gotten news of who was in his party.

In the guard room outside his chambers, the retinue took their positions, and Avery took a deep breath. “Maxwell, put away my dinner clothes, I won’t need them,” he instructed, thankful that Grace had managed to put off the inevitable family dinner for the time being. “But- Draw a bath please?”

Maxwell looked hesitant to leave the king so soon after he’d arrived back home, but he had his instructions and an implied dismissal, so he bowed his head and left.

“Well- I think you handled everything remarkably well,” Emerson said, clapping his friend on his shoulder. “Far better than I would have expected, frankly. Kept expecting you to say something stupid and ruin everything,” he admitted.

“Thanks for your confidence,” Avery said wryly.

“All right, then,” Emerson said, squaring his shoulders. “Been awhile since I got properly yelled at by your aunt. No point delaying, it’ll only get worse,” he advised, opening the door to the sitting room and pushing himself and his king through it. It clicked shut behind them, and Lady Roysa rose from her chair to turn her stern expression on them.

She looked them both up and down, and a small fraction of the tightness in her face relaxed.

“You both seem relatively unharmed,” she observed. “Thank the gods.”

“Well, before you go about changing that,” Emerson cut in. “You should know that Vee here did quite well, considering the circumstances.Very professional about everything, rarely missed a beat, one would think everything went as expected- Well, not the ambush, obviously-”

“’As expected’,” Roysa quoted. “Have you both gone blind, or are you just idiots of the highest caliber?”

“Emerson,” Avery said with a wave of his hand. “You can go now.”

“No, please stay,” Roysa interjected tightly. “You have just as much to answer for- What good are you if you can’t even stop him from being such a godsforsaken simpleton?”

“As my lady requests,” Emerson said, halting his departure and turning back to the stone face of the lady in question.

“Emerson. Go.” Avery’s directive was clearly an order, and he said it with finality as he sank down into an armchair across from his aunt.

“As my king demands,” Emerson amended, offering a quick bow to the royals before seeing himself out the door. He would have preferred to get the being yelled at over with quickly if he could, but he was well aware of just how stubborn both Vee and his aunt could be when they dug their heels in. He wasn’t going to get caught in the middle of that for a little thing like convenience.

“I’ll not have you eviscerate him in my stead,” Avery said with a sigh. “Would you pour me some water, please?”

Roysa filled a cup from the pitcher on the table, her lips pursed in displeasure. “If you think being King means I would spare you the full weight of my words in favor of another, you are sorely mistaken. Especially since you have demonstrated you can listen to my advice,” she said pointedly, offering him the water.

The corner of Avery’s mouth twitched slightly as he drank. “I am actually thirsty, you know,” he said, but she was right that he had been following her own teachings. When confronted with someone who doubts your judgement- Remind them of your authority by having it acknowledged by someone else. Then force them to acknowledge it as well.

“Well,” she demanded after he had finished nearly half the water. “Are you going to at least try to explain yourself, or have you not even bothered coming up with an excuse for this mess?”

“It’s not like we didn’t know this might happen,” Avery said, and Roysa looked affronted.

“Oh, you’ve been consulting oracles now? I didn’t realize they were in the habit of being so specific, especially about events so near in the future,” she said tersely.

“No,” Avery said, with some confusion. “I told you? We discussed this,” he said firmly, recalling the conversation in question. “That the prince’s engagement had been formally ended, and his fiance thrown from the palace?”

Roysa looked confused, then a slow horror took over her face with realization.

“I thought,” she said slowly. “I thought you meant- Just, that they would be looking for a more profitable match for him than Lord Brutus. Someone of higher rank, with more diplomatic importance.”

Avery shrugged his shoulders, and gestured at himself. A king certainly outranked a general, even one of noble birth, and the treaty with Beleth was quite.... Diplomatically important. “You did seem remarkably… Calm about the prospect,” he recalled.

Roysa let out a long sigh.

“In the future,” she said tiredly. “If you reveal something of such an important nature and I do not react in a way that seems appropriate, please make sure we are on the same page. If I had realized- Perhaps we could have avoided this embarrassment.”

“We have avoided embarrassment,” Avery said.

“No, you’ve only made it worse,” Roysa snapped angrily. “What were you thinking, bringing that boy back here?,” she hissed. “What do you propose we do with him while we sort out this catastrophe?”

“There’s nothing to sort out,” Avery replied. “I’m going to marry Prince Nuri.”

Roysa gaped at him.

“You cannot possibly- Agora is sitting in her palace, laughing at us right now!,” she said with a gesture in the vague direction of Delphi. “As will the rest of the continent, once news travels!”

“I don’t think so,” Avery said. “There are two possibilities- Theren always intended that Prince Nuri and I would marry. If I refuse him, we risk offending our new allies.”

Roysa rolled her eyes. “Your determination to give others the benefit of the doubt was endearing as a child- As a king, it is dangerous,” she warned.

“Or as you suggest,” Avery allowed, “This was some plan to ‘trick’ us. But that plan only succeeds if we react accordingly.”

Roysa’s eyes narrowed, but Avery knew she was thinking it over.

“If I had demanded Queen Meera instead- Then yes, we would have looked foolish. Theren would have pointed out that my marriage to Nuri satisfied the requirements of our agreement. I would have returned with a prospective spouse that I had just announced as being my second choice- Or no prospective spouse at all.”

Roysa huffed. “It would be like Agora to pull something like that. She’s always been a snake.”

Avery could have forced the issue, and Agora could have called his bluff and claimed that if he wouldn’t accept Nuri, then they’d have no marriage at all.

“Queen Mother Agora,” Avery corrected. It was only the two of them, but he probably shouldn’t get in the habit of letting others refer to his future mother-in-law so casually.

“And the prince himself? Do you think he was the sacrificial lamb, or a willing conspirator?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Avery said with a shrug. He wasn’t surprised that Roysa was unwilling to entertain the idea that this had been a case of misunderstanding. “He seems smart. If he hasn’t already realized- A king for a husband is a much better position than just a queen for a sister. It’s in his best interest- and in Theren’s- to be my ally in this marriage. The power he can wield here may not be the sort he’s seen at home,” Avery conceded. “But it has farther reach, and longer effects. I think I can persuade him that in the long run, what’s best for Beleth will aide Theren as well.”

Roysa didn’t seem entirely satisfied, so he pressed on.

“Queen Meera may be known for her diplomacy, but that could be an obstacle for us- She is known, internationally, as a Theren princess. It could be difficult to convincingly position her as a Belethan royal. Prince Nuri, on the other hand, has largely avoided attention and is not so well known an entity. We can better manage how he is perceived,” Avery said, appealing to his aunt’s love of control.

“He has worked with their Lord Chancellor on trade agreements,” Avery pushed. “He understands international and oversea markets- With Theren’s better access to the sea and ours to the greater continent, he can bring the countries together on trade to the benefit of all.”

“We are self-sufficient,” Roysa said haughtily. It wasn’t completely true, but the fact that it nearly was had everything to do with Roysa’s work over the last few decades.

“For which I and our people are most grateful,” Avery amended. “But we still can be, and we can have eucalyptus in all the bathhouses of Kokinos, instead of just the ones here in Redhill. You could have cardamom wines with every meal, instead of just on occasion,” he pushed further, and Roysa waved a hand at him.

She and Avery and the other ministers had talked at length about increasing international trade, and she did not need to be persuaded of its benefits. He was only trying to distract her.

“And Queen Meera? She will be satisfied with giving up her country to her niece or nephew?”

“The treaty states that the heirs I produce with my royal Theren spouse shall inherit both crowns,” Avery pointed out.

“Their inheritance does not necessarily work the same as ours,” Roysa replied. “They may be less willing to let some piece of paper overrule the precedence of first born. Gods- And if she bears children first? The Theren nobles will back that child, no matter what past arrangement have been made,” she said with concern

“She’s not even had a serious suitor, I doubt she plans to marry soon-”

“Foolish boy,” Roysa said, though she seemed more sad than frustrated. “This could have been their plan all along- She’ll be married in the month, as I hear they have a newly single general now-”

“No,” Avery said firmly. “Perhaps you are right, and my engagement to Prince Nuri was a test of our new alliance. But I do not think Queen Meera would seek to overturn it, especially so quickly.”

Roysa frowned. “You are clearly unfamiliar with the Queen Mother-”

“It is Meera who is queen now,” Avery reminded her. “And I don’t think either woman is foolish enough to try and make an enemy of us. The terms of the treaty were good for them, and they kept most of their country in tact,” he said, a fact which his own nobles seethed over. They had expected a war would mean new lands for them to squabble over.

“But it still devastated them. And exposed their weaknesses to the rest of the world. It will take them a decade at least to rebuild their military, and until then they are vulnerable to every marauding force, to every foreign empire that wants a foothold on the shores of this continent, even to dissent among their own people. They cannot risk losing the protection an alliance with Beleth affords them.”

Roysa considered this for a moment and nodded slightly. “They aren’t secure enough to alienate us,” she agreed, a statement for her own reassurance as much as anything else. She sighed as she sat in the chair opposite her nephew, and poured herself her own glass.

She frowned at it after she had taken her drink, and sighed. “This is preposterous,” she said. “But we’ll have to make it work. You can’t really marry Prince Nuri, of course,” she said, and the crease between Avery’s eyebrows wrinkled.

“You’ll make him an advisor- He can be your principle,” she said, unhappy that she would have to give up her role but willing to do so. “Maybe you can swear the Debt to him,” she suggested with an idleness that Avery didn’t like.

He knew her faith had always been more… Pragmatic than his own, but the Debt was meant to be sworn for personal reasons, not political ones. He did not like how blasé she was being about it.

“They’ve got to have a suitable cousin you could take as a consort, to provide an heir. Or to marry Grace, I suppose, she’s nearly ready,” she said, running two fingers along her forehead as she thought, her thumb anchored beneath her eye.

“Or,” Avery countered. “I could just marry Prince Nuri.”

Roysa looked up across the table at him with annoyance and a small amount of pity.

“Be reasonable, Avery,” she admonished. “You know that is not possible.”

It was Avery’s turn to look annoyed.

“Because he’s a man,” he asked bluntly, “Or because you do not perceive him as one?”

Roysa did not back down at her nephew’s frankness.

“There isn’t exactly precedence,” she said practically. “For either situation.”

“Queen Cordalia married a woman,” Avery countered, invoking his great great grandmother.

“When she was in her late sixties,” Roysa said. “After her husband had died. And she had grown children and a dozen grandchildren. And her wife became ‘Princess Consort’, I believe, not queen. Besides, her situation was… Unique. And many, many years ago.”

Avery did not have her Cordalia’s immense popularity with both the common people and the nobles alike, or her relative lack of responsibility. By the time she had remarried, she had largely relinquished rule of the country to her eldest son.

“Lord Perrin of Jamatal,” Avery listed. “Lord Raimund also married a man, and Lady Astrid married that merchant’s daughter-”

“They are all younger children, with siblings and nieces and nephews between them and their family’s title,” Roysa said plantatively. “And their spouses are all… Conventional.”

“There is plenty of precedence there, too,” Avery said in irritation. “The temple on Merid- All the acolytes become priestesses, regardless of their birth. Those-of-many are protected by the Rites of Qaglos.”

“Those are religious circumstances,” Roysa protested.

“And Herma is religious to Nuri and to Theren,” Avery countered with a shrug. Emerson had been reading up on Theren culture and customs, and had given Avery a basic enough overview of the concept to understand that.

“When a glassblower renounces femininity and masculinity to join the guild, when Lady Ferah joined Adite’s acolytes- These things are done to pursue a life that is otherwise restricted,” Roysa pointed out. “If Prince Nuri was a man because he wished for a masculine role.... That they might accept,” she admitted of the capricious nobles.

“But he is marrying you. He has agreed to be the spouse of a monarch, to join two countries and provide heirs- and peace- for both. Traditionally,” she continued, trying to articulate her concerns. “That has been a woman’s task. I fear that people will not understand… Why he would agree to such a thing, and yet remain a man.”

Avery considered this for a moment before deciding. “They do not have to understand him,” he said firmly. “They just have to respect him.”

He wasn’t sure he understood entirely himself, but his own ignorance was nothing to hold against Nuri.

The corner of Roysa’s mouth nearly turned up in a smile. “Everything is so straightforward for you, isn’t it?,” she sighed. “You may have taken a measure of the Prince, but I doubt you spoke at length: How does he feel about this paradox? How do you know he will not come to resent you- and everyone involved- for it, in the years to come?”

Avery frowned. “I suppose I cannot say for certain,” he allowed. “But he does not seem overly bothered? In Theren, I think, their views on men and women and their roles are different. I do not think he sees being my spouse as a feminine task- And there’s no reason we have to make it be so, is there?”

“No,” Roysa agreed slowly. There had been aspects of the royal apartments that included design elements that were traditionally reserved for women’s spaces, but the plans for the royal apartments were already a moving target, and they would save both time and money in striking those details. The robes for the wedding ceremony were traditional, and neither Avery’s nor his potential spouse’s used fashion that was considered gendered. The throne next to Avery’s was not for a woman, but for the spouse of the sitting monarch. “Introducing him as ‘King Nuri’ will be pushing it though,” she warned.

“Prince Consort, then,” Avery compromised. “For now.” He could have that changed later.

“Avery,” Roysa said gently, and she stood and crossed to kneel at his side. “You- You will be opening yourself up to ridicule and cruelty. Not just yourself, but Nuri and your children, too. Even if things go better than we could hope- There will still be those that look down on you, do you understand?”

Avery squeezed his aunt’s hand to quell her protests, but she pressed on. “The things that people will accept in their neighbors and their families- They are less keen to tolerate in those who wield power over them. Nearness to the crown is not a shield from scrutiny, but a magnifier of it,” she cautioned.

“I know,” Avery said softly, all too aware that she spoke from experience. Painful experience- Roysa's was well respected these days, but that hadn't always been the case. It had been the cost of being different, or even just perceived as such. “But I think- In this case, this is the right decision.”

There were things he could say, that he did not. It was not the time to remind her that much of the hostility of her youth had been cultivated by her own father- A specter he himself would not have to contend with. She was not wrong in her warnings, but he felt they may not be as dire as she presumed.

Roysa stood and took his face between her hands and peered down, as if she could divine something there.

“Is it the decision you want, though? Can you really be happy with Prince Nuri?”

“As happy as I might have been with his sister,” Avery reasoned with a shrug.

“But you don’t even like men,” she scoffed, and Avery raised an eyebrow. She frowned. “Really?”

He nodded, amused at her indignation.

“But you and- Oh, never mind,” she decided with a sigh. “I only- Well. If you had second thoughts about sealing the alliance with marriage, if you did want something else… We could use this opportunity to… Adjust,” she proposed.

“And risk looking like fools?,” Avery asked with a slight grin.

“Have faith in your aunt,” she chided. “I can find us someway to seem... Only marginally foolish,” she said, her confidence having replaced her earlier panic and anger. “We will make it work, if this isn’t what you want.”

The words were said with genuine intent, but they both knew such a promise couldn’t truly be fulfilled. What Avery wanted didn’t matter. What Avery wanted didn’t exist anymore, and hadn’t for many years.

“What I want... Is for you to support me in this,” Avery said at last, rising from his chair. One of Roysa’s hand was still cupped to his cheek, so he did not straighten fully. “And to support your new prince, as well.”

Roysa nodded slightly in agreement.

“Of course,” she agreed, standing on her toes to place a kiss on his forehead. “Your Majesty.”

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

King Avery & Prince Nuri
learn some worrying news...

At Breakfast...

My poor dearest child,

My sympathies are with you, it is a difficult lesson to learn, but one you must learn sooner rather than later. And for the love of all the spirits in their infinite wisdom combined, do not sabotage your position further while you learn it. You have a nasty temper my child, not unlike your father, but unlike your father you are not King. Instead you are in my position, where I once was. I know it did not feel as such, as by the time you were old enough to understand politic my influence had been well built, both in the Kingdom and with your father. But things were not always so. In fact, I was not popular at first. It is the tradition of Theren nobility to marry of Theren. Rarely are matches made outside of the Kingdom. I was an outsider, a mistake that the King was surely making. It took time, perseverance, and a considerable amount of creativity to create a space for myself as their beloved and respected Queen.

As Queen consort any true power I had was through the King, and winning his affections above all others came easy. I took his heart in my possession quickly, but the thing about men you need to understand is that their pricks rarely align with their hearts, and are demanding, beastly things. Depending on the man they can be demanding indeed. But you already know this my love. You said so yourself, you experienced the same with Brutus. He took many others to bed and worshipped you as his heart’s desire all the same.

This King will not worship you like Brutus did, you have far less influence over him than you did with Brutus, do not think you can be demanding with him. A King made is an entirely different sort of man than a spoiled lordling heir. You will have to work towards gaining his affections by being the best version of yourself.

You can be very thoughtful when you put your mind to it, and didn’t you used to paint and write those pretty poems? Play the harp? A kiss, a thoughtful gesture, and above all making yourself useful to the running of the Kingdom will endear you to him. Open trade and industry where you can, you are skilled in that arena and others. Do this, if, for no other reason than making your own situation easier. For if you endear yourself to him then he might not mind your other eccentricities and you may partake in the enjoyment of the simple things in life.

But even this my dearest one, I fear might not be enough. You have a difficult road ahead of you, and you should not expect to have a happy marriage I am afraid. I still cry at the thought of what we’ve done, giving you to our greatest enemy as sacrifice. Allowing you to throw yourself into the den of wolves for our sake, the sake of your sister.

I do not write this to despair you my dearest, only to steel your resolve. Do what you must to survive Beleth. The spirit of our ancestors will not begrudge what you do to that end, as you’ve already done your duty to them and us.

I also suspect the new environment and fear of lack of influence has you feeling very vulnerable and more sensitive than you normally would. Surely you are homesick? For this I have the happiest solution and news. Your sister is to be wed. Theren will have a new King of proper Theren blood. You remember that dalliance she had with Lord Basilius?

Come to us my own dearest love, and we will sooth your hurts and celebrate Theren’s new royal union the very next new moon.

Your loving mother,
Dowager Queen Agora of House Delphi

The tea spoon Nuri held dropped out of his hand and clanged to the floor. His mouth fell open in shock as the meaning behind this letter became abundantly clear to him.

How very like his mother.

“I can not believe they’ve done this…” Nuri stammered, slowly taking his eyes off of the letter and settling them on his poor innocent husband, who had no clue of the mess that was happening while he broke his fast after a rather pleasant night of peaceful music playing and shy kisses before bed.

Avery had been lost in private thought, dreading this morning’s meetings.

The generals would be fine, of course- His once daily briefings with a full complement of military officials had dropped to every other day, and now to weekly, and consisted of far fewer people and considerably less stress and surprises. They were continuing to withdraw troops from Theren as the region stabilized and the peace held, and the danger from pirates and other external threats lessened. He was pretty sure the next step was a reduction in the garrisons stationed in and around Delphi, which he would of course approve.They’d been able to mostly wrestle control of the interior bay back from pirates, and the combined forces of the remaining Beleth soldiers and the Theren military should be able to protect the city adequately.

But the meeting with the city officials from Kokinos’ uppertown… He wished he could force Grace or Roysa to take it, except he knew the only reason they had managed to get an audience with him in the first place was because Grace had been too soft hearted to tell them no, and Roysa would merely point out that if he was apprehensive to deny requests from his citizens, then it was all the more reason to practice doing so.

But there was simply no use in rebuilding the uppertown docks, when the riverbed was too shallow for modern merchant ships to berth there reliably, and there were warehouses and wide streets and infrastructure already built to support the bustling docks further down the river, and few traders wanted to frequent an area where they were liable to be mugged.

He could offer to fund the dismantling of the docks, which would at least remove the danger their dereliction posed and employ some residents for a few months, but he doubted it was really what they wanted- They wanted to return to a time when uppertown had been the city’s center of commerce, and it simply wasn’t going to happen.

He’d been so entrenched with his own musings that he hadn’t been paying any attention to Nuri’s own distractions, and looked up with surprise at the sound of the spoon hitting the marble tile. The wrinkle in his expression turned into an outright frown as he surveyed the table, looking for the cause of Nuri’s unhappiness.

“Something is not to your liking?,” he asked, looking for the cause of the offense. Nuri had been here long enough that the royal kitchens had mostly learned what he liked and disliked- And, Avery thought, long enough that Avery had made clear any attempts to make him feel unwelcome or ignored through meal selections were grounds for demotion to a lesser kitchen staff, or even outright dismissal.

“What?” Nuri looked around at the table, ridiculous, he loved mixed fruits sprinkled with chili pepper and salt seasoning, lemon squeezed over it all to create a new delightful favorite of his that Graceling introduced him to.

“No, my mother she- well. Meera.” He struggled to explain in a way that wrapped up every political nuance both in the letter and situation. Mouth flapping uselessly.

Avery continued to look confused, but stood from his seat and crossed to Nuri.

“The treaty, our treaty!” Nuri threw his hands up in exasperation.

“I’m reasonably certain my thrice blessed sister is pregnant.” He hissed, not so quietly whispering royal secrets that could doom entire Kingdoms.

“And we are invited to the rushed wedding so that the babe may be born legitimate.” Or rather, Nuri was, but he'd be damned if he was going alone. To torture his mother if nothing else. Certainly not because he needed emotional support while he confronted his family or anything so ludicrous.

“That’s…. Less than ideal,” Avery said, vastly understating the ideal-ness of the situation. “Does she actually say that- Your mother or your sister?” He wasn’t sure who the letter was from, and moved to pick it up gingerly, as though it might explode in his face.

“Is she… Do you think it was intentional?,” he asked hesitantly. He did not want to imply that Nuri’s sister was purposefully attempting to undermine the peace, but she wasn’t just his husband’s sister- She was a sovereign of a country he had very recently been at war with, and they could not afford to be magnanimous with the benefit of doubt.

“I…” His knee jerk reaction was to say no, of course not. But his mother’s letter… she'd laid the manipulation on thick. Shockingly thick in fact.

Any regular person who hadn't been raised by an absolute snake would believe her false tone but things being as they were made her rather obvious.

Was he a threat now? He licked his lips.

“Don't think so. At least not on her part.” He didn't like the thought of being seen as a threat by his own mother, not one bit. It made him feel small, and not at all like a prince with his own nation.

Avery began to read the letter, his brow furrowing at its contents.

“Ah-” This was maybe the wrong letter, he thought. It seemed to have little to do with Meera, and more to do with him, and he wondered if he was really supposed to be reading it. But a quicker skim of the contents caught the word ‘sister’ at the bottom, and he jumped to it and tried not to think on the rest.

“This ‘Lord Basilius’, then?,” Avery asked. “...Would he have been acting with or against the wishes of your mother?”

This was bad, no matter how it had happened- If Queen Meera was intentionally testing the treaty, they had a problem. If she was being manipulated by those around her, that was another altogether.

“Though- We are only inferring this news,” Avery pointed out. “Perhaps it is only a wedding. She is rushing it so as to avoid having a suitor chosen by us- I know there are several Beleth families who have suggested to me that their sons would thrive in a warmer climate,” he said dryly, placing the letter face down back on the table. He had feigned obliviousness to such implications, once he had realized what they were.

This was why Nuri struggled to explain in a way Avery would understand. He wouldn't know…

“Theren Monarchs typically marry somebody from Theren, Queen’s especially so because the man has to prove himself worthy of the title King through some grand campaign or task of the sort. Lord Basilius did not even fight in the war, it's how he's found himself a Lord. Instead he served as representative in court in place of his mother.” Nuri quickly explained.

Avery nodded- The name sounded passingly familiar, but it was certainly not one he knew from his study of Theren’s military ranks.

“A wedding taking place in less than a year, less than a fortnight even, is no time at all to prove himself in some grand gesture to appease the Lords. There's only one reason this would be happening. If the Queen in question is pregnant and must be wed before the baby begins to show.” He finished, leaning back. “For the preservation of her Queenly dignity of course.”

“I’ll eat my left arm if this is coincidence. There's no way my mother would push a wedding outside of Theren custom otherwise.” Nuri’s expression soured. “Not when she’s a foreign Queen herself.”

“I would prefer you to keep the arm, if it’s all the same,” Avery said idly. “Well,” he asked. “What would you like to do?”

Nuri studied Avery while he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, fidgeting.

“You seem more mildly inconvenienced than upset.” That's right, it was more like Aunt Roysa to become upset in an offended way at something like this. Avery’s concern probably began and ended with everyone's safety. But the thing about this was… it was probably a thing, should this child be carried to term, that would affect the future safety of their heirs, and the Kingdoms that are supposed to go to them.

Bloodshed would be guaranteed in fact. Theren was not likely to change its ways gracefully.

Avery shrugged. “It is annoying,” he admitted. “If you wish to attend, then we shall have to rearrange our schedules, and transport will be difficult to secure so quickly, not to mention the guard arrangements- But of course, do not let these things factor into your decision,” he added quickly. “If you want to be there, I will make that happen,” he promised. If it was his own sister getting married, he knew he would want to be there.

Nuri realized just now that he married an idiot.

“And it is… Frustrating,” Avery continued. “To find out this way. She is still a sovereign of course, and I do not expect her to notify us of every decision, much less seek our input. But we are meant to be each other’s closest allies, so it does not bode well that she would spring something so important on us so suddenly.”

It was no wonder the King was not as alarmed as Nuri was. He didn't quite understand the ramifications of all of this.

“Avery…” Nuri’s look of worried pity was laced with fondness, almost laughter. But the situation was so dire he held himself back to simply reaching over and tucking his husband's hair behind his ear.

“You are terribly lucky you're handsome you know that?” He huffed in amusement, “And that it's me sitting here and explaining this to you because I am absolutely certain Aunt Roysa would chuck a vase at your head.”

Avery’s face went slightly pink at these admonishments- Or perhaps the gesture of affection.

“If our heirs are meant to take the throne, and Meera produces any, let alone one born before ours- Then it doesn't matter how much either of us wish to abide by the treaty. The Lords will conspire to put her heir on the throne, and not just them. The common folk will recognize that heir as their rightful monarch. Our heir will have no support in Theren whatsoever, and the rivers will run red once more.” Beleth's nobles certainly wouldn't tolerate the open defiance. They'd be proven right over their King’s soft hand in dealing with Theren.

Avery hadn’t thought of that- Well, he had thought of it, in a brief, unfocused sort of way, but he hadn’t taken the time to turn over in his mind the full implications of the thought. No wonder Roysa liked Nuri, he thought.

Nuri took a breath, “Which is why she promised me she would never produce any heirs… That part you wouldn't know, but she did give me her word. She's well aware of the danger.”

“Oh,” Avery said, now considering things more holistically. Meera wasn’t just ignoring the spirit of alliance set forth by the treaty- She was actively undermining it.

“Inheritance in Theren,” he asked. “The child needs to be legitimate from birth? Or can they be made an heir retroactively?”

In Beleth, children born outside of wedlock were not eligible for inheritance among the noble families, but could made so through several different methods- Avery had offered to have Emerson legitimized when they were younger, but his friend’s interest in inheriting anything from the Fremont family had been minimal. These days, it was even less so.

“Sure, but a retroactive legitimization is inherently less stable than one from birth in Theren. For instance if some bastard were legitimized despite an already legitimate heir existing then they can be officially challenged - either through support of the other Lords militarily or politically, or through one on one combat. Usually a combination of the two. It can and has happened before.” If an heir was found unworthy they would be tested in this way. A Theren Lord must be Theren strong, as they say.”

Avery made a slight noise of understanding. He had hoped they could force Meera to put off the wedding, if the child could never inherit the Theren throne. She would have a bastard child, yes, but a child nonetheless. And if she lost the child, then nothing would be damaged save for their relationship. He looked to Nuri for further ideas.

“I can't begin to formulate a plan to salvage this situation until we have more information. I confess I do not know Lord Basilius’s character, he kept to himself and did not gossip nor enjoy courtly pleasures as the others indulged.” Nuri chewed on this lower lip guiltily.

“I do not know how open Meera will be to getting rid of her child. But if worse comes to worse there is that option. She'll do what will stave off bloodshed at the end of the day. Even at the defiance of mother.” He said darkly, not liking the very real possibility of having to force his flesh and blood to do something so deeply personal.

Getting rid of an inconvenient pregnancy is one thing, being forced to get rid of your child that you wanted was quite another.

Avery sighed. That hadn’t occurred to him either. “I think- Based on what you have told me,” he added, because he didn’t want to sound like he knew the queen of Theren better than her own brother. “That if she was willing to do so for the sake of keeping the peace… She would have done so already. The cost of asking could be your relationship,” he warned. If she understood the risks well enough to have made that promise to Nuri, it should have been a logical first step.

“I'm sorry…” Nuri said quietly, looking down at the table. To Avery. To Meera. To children not yet born.

Avery frowned, taking Nuri’s chin and tipping his face up to look him in the eyes. “There is nothing to be sorry for,” he said seriously.

Nuri wasn't so sure, despite being unable to come up with any preventative measures he could have taken. He gulped but nodded affirmatively.

Avery held Nuri’s face for a moment longer as he stared past his husband, beginning to plan.

“The wedding will be public knowledge soon,” he said. They could hardly keep it a secret forever, and the Beleth court would learn about it- They paid close attention to news out of Theren these days. “The nobility will find the timetable suspicious, but they are not as well versed in your nuptial practices, and they’ll take their cues from us. And we… Have known about this for awhile,” he decided. He had begun to pace the length of the table, the way he often did when he planned.

“Of course we have,” he said more confidently.

“Yes of course.” Nuri mimicked, as if it had always been so.

“We had decided we would not attend- We have been occupied with the new tax proposal, we did not want to travel so close to when the snows might start falling, you were feeling unwell, we-” Avery held up one finger and shook his head. “No, let’s not bring that up,” he amended. There had been a few speculations that Nuri might be with child, and they didn’t need to direct thoughts towards that vein.

Nuri’s mind too, thought briefly to a possibility of pretending he was with child, but the risk involved with that was too great. As he was reasonably certain his husband just realized.

“Roysa and Grace can start some talk that would support a rushed ceremony to one of her own nobles- That the King of Ruhar had expressed an interest in a marriage, or one of our own nobles had begun to write to her regularly,” he hypothesized. People would be skeptical, but they could sow enough doubt to buy them more time.

“Wait,” he paused, turning back to face Nuri. “I- We should decide who we will tell the full story and our conclusions to,” he said. Roysa would put it together, regardless of what they told her, but it had belatedly occurred to Avery that Nuri might not want her to know, and might not appreciate Avery’s assumption that she should be privy to everything.

“Well Aunt Roysa of course, she must know. And there's little point keeping it from Grace if she's going to help spread information… Lord Emerson.” Nuri smiled ruefully, “He's useful at this sort of thing. Cromwell is too but we shouldn't tell him anything. He probably already knows but nonetheless he serves my sister first and foremost and he’ll no doubt say something infuriating like ‘I can neither confirm nor deny such information.’ either way.” Nuri mocked in a deep stony Cromwell voice, turning up his nose.

“The nobles will be so fed up with him. They'll be all the more intrigued at what Grace has to say on the matter, close to the Prince as she is.” The scenario was highly amusing. “But, we do have to go, I think… I don't believe we can afford not to in truth. We must find out the details and the truth, suss out this Lord Basilius and come up with a solution that doesn't leave the court thinking you've been too soft on Theren... Even though really, you have.” He winked at his husband playfully.

“Yes, I have,” Avery said solemnly. “And the court does think that already. We must impress on your sister- or her new husband, or your mother- that reality. I want this peace to last,” he promised, “But if they continue such attempts to box us into a corner, we will be forced to act.” He closed his eyes as he recalled his first meeting for this morning. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it considerably from its sleekly combed appearance.

“I’m extending our breakfast,” Avery declared, shrugging his vest off one shoulder and unbuttoning his shirt partway as he crossed to the heavy doors, pulling the hem out from where it was tucked into his pants. He pulled one door open just a crack, and the servant standing there with the cart to take away the dishes looked nervous.

“Your Majesty,” he said. “The Minister of War and the generals are waiting for you in your-” he began hesitantly.

“Send a messenger to fetch my aunt,” Avery instructed. “She will take the meeting.”

“Uh-”

Roysa was his principle advisor and minister at large, and so of course could sit in for him on most occasions- But she had no authority to sign off on the movement of troops. The garrisons would stay in Delphi, without Avery having to disagree with the plans the generals had already drawn up.

“She can come find us after if there’s anything we need to know,” Avery said airly. Roysa would certainly come, even though it was very unlikely there was anything to know, just to chastise him for delegating out to her, and they would be able to speak with her privately much sooner than otherwise scheduled. “We’ll probably be done by then,” he told the servant, glancing over his shoulder and back into the dining room. “But- Make sure she knows to knock.”

“Of course,” the servant said, bowing his head at the dismissal, and to hide how his face had grown red at the implication of what might be happening behind the door.

“Wait,” Avery said as the man turned away, and grabbed the fresh water pitcher off the cart before smiling at the servant, and shutting the door. If they were going to be trapped in here for another half hour, at least they would not go thirsty.

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

Lady Roysa & King Avery & Prince Nuri
make arrangements

After Breakfast...

Avery’s briefing with the generals had only been a few rooms over in his study, so it did not take Roysa long to arrive once it was finished, and she swept into the dining room with obvious annoyance. She had knocked, but hadn’t waited for an answer before intruding.

“Playing hooky is unlike you,” she told Avery sternly. “You cannot foist your responsibilities off to whomever is most convenient whenever it suits you-”

“Queen Meera is getting married,” Avery announced, stopping her lecture in its tracks. “Before the next moon.”

Roysa’s mouth dropped slightly, in a rare display of surprise, and she turned to look at Nuri, as if he might refute this statement.

Nuri did not, only nodded and said, “Lord Basilius of House Megara.”

Roysa sighed, pressing two fingers to where her left eyebrow met her nose in her frequent tell of consternation.

“Well,” she said after a moment. “It could be worse.” Which wasn’t saying much, but it was the only balm she had to cling to. It wasn’t a foreign alliance, and he wasn’t a military general.

“We have a lot to determine in little time,” she began, but Avery interrupted her.

“No ‘I told you so’?,” he asked, and Roysa frowned at him.

“If we had time to waste,” she admitted. “But we don’t. Now- I assume she is early enough that ending the pregnancy would not jeopardize her own health? But she hasn’t. Is she idealistic or naive enough to think this won’t change or anything, or must we assume she is intentionally testing the treaty?,” she asked Nuri.

Of course Aunt Roysa immediately understood the implications, Nuri was almost amused, if the solemn situation could have allowed it. But he didn't dare smile or tease Avery of it. At least not fit now.

“She promised me she would bear no heirs. She takes the treaty seriously and in fact, as I told you, was one of the people most in favor of initial alliances… I have no idea what she's thinking or doing.” Nuri sighed defeatedly, “Maybe this man has gone to her head, maybe my mother has construed this, maybe she herself has suddenly lost her mind. The only thing I can really determine is that she clearly intends to keep her child if she's rushing to marry a man that hasn't proven himself in some great way to Theren's court. Why else rush like this?”

At some point Nuri had gotten up and began pacing, he stopped abruptly, realizing he looked nervous and stated. “I need to get there as soon as possible to find out what's going on. There's too much we don't know.”

Roysa nodded in agreement.

Nuri shrugged, “I don't even know if I can convince her to get rid of the issue to be honest. She's not some Lady, she's a Queen.” His mind wandered vaguely to the possibility of sabotaging the pregnancy through something added to her food or drink, but quickly became disgusted with himself for thinking of it.

“Hmm,” Roysa said, neither quite agreeing or disagreeing but reflecting on what she knew of Queen Meera.

“Transportation will be tricky,” she mused, trying to think. “I hate to seem as though we are scrambling-”

“We think it would be best to act as though we knew this was happening all along, but only recently decided to attend- Just earlier this week we’ve confirmed that most of the pirates have been driven out of the inner bay, so travel by sea is much safer. And Cicele’s Arrow is docked in Jamatal right now. I called it back a few weeks ago for repairs, which are finished now.”

“That’s a warship,” Roysa pointed out.

A rather formidable one at that- It was rude to arrive at a wedding with canon lining your deck. But….

Avery shrugged. “So? I think Delphi could use a reminder of our power,” he said. “And piracy is down, not eliminated,” he said stubbornly. “I won’t put us into danger we can easily prevent.”

“...And it has several cabins for the officers,” Roysa mused, which could be vacated in favor of nobility. “Who are you thinking will go with you?”

“Grace is going to be upset,” Nuri said. She obviously couldn't go, thought Nuri, given she was next in line and would need to stay behind as regent.

“She will have to learn to manage her disappointment,” Roysa said dryly, and Avery nodded in agreement. Even if they had had adequate time to prepare for the journey and establish security, they wouldn’t send both monarchs and their heir out of the country so soon after one of them had been attacked.

“Cromwell will insist. Maybe Ladies Nyme and Veora. They could always knock sense into Meera, or at the very least give me insight if she shuts me out. They could chat up their old cohorts and provide information on what's been going on in my absence while they're at it.” It was true that before they were released from her service they belonged to Meera as her ladies, but they had other alliances and favor to curry now. Nor were they the sort to blindly excuse reprehensible behavior… and they would desperately want to be there.

“Lady Veora is more… Level-headed than her sister,” Roysa said, which was the politest way Roysa could find to say that she thought Veora by far the most capable and responsible of the Theren ladies, at least in a delicate situation such as this. “I agree that she could be an asset to all parties, and her presence appreciated by Queen Meera. But I would caution against bringing Lady Nyme as well- She would certainly be adept at curating gossip, but all three of them will find their loyalties and interests tested by this situation. I think it best to limit their interactions, both with each other and with the Queen.” She did not want the sisters in a cabin together, making plans.

And if Meera wanted her friends at her wedding, Roysa thought privately- Well. She could have given more notice.

“She is also more likely to be amenable while her friends reside in Redhill,” Avery said with the bluntness of a military man. He didn’t think it would come to that, but they needed anything they could use to discourage Meera from escalating towards hostilities again.

Nuri pointedly ignored the knee-jerk protective reaction itching at him to defend his sister and nodded. Her actions weren't defensible. That was the truth.

“Keep Mercy here to assist Grace, I hear they get along well anyway.” Lady Mercidea and Grace were of a similar age and free spirit, naturally they fell into an easy friendship.

“You Lady Aunt?” Nuri questioned whether she thought it best to come or stay, as there were reasons for either option.

“...I think I should stay in Beleth,” Roysa said after consideration. “Your reign is new, and Grace is young, and I travel very rarely as it is. For me to join you might signal there is reason to be alarmed, or worse, eager- There are still many in Beleth who think we should have taken more of Theren’s land, and are waiting for the treaty to crumble. They will speculate wildly about this wedding regardless, and if I were to go, it would only confirm to them that there is something to be suspicious of.”

She paused, and looked at the royal couple. “Unless of course you would like me to accompany you,” she added with a soft hesitance. “But- I do think you can handle this just as well with my support as without.”

It was a sincere statement, but it was unclear if she was praising them, or merely acknowledging that the situation was an absolute disaster and they could hardly make it worse.

“On second thought, mayhaps it's best we don't find out how well you get along with my mother just yet.” That is, there was every guarantee both would icily attempt to outclass the other every moment they were in each other's presence. And Nuri needed to focus on the matter at hand rather than managing fights. He looked pointedly to his husband.

“One fire at a time, love. We’ve got to keep up appearances.”

“I am perfectly capable of observing basic diplomacy,” Roysa said with slight affront, and Avery raised his eyebrow at her, and she sighed in acknowledgement. She was comparing herself to the other woman, and they weren’t even in the same room.

Exactly what Nuri wanted to avoid.

In truth, she would prefer not to meet with Queen Mother Agora in Delphi, especially in a situation like this. By Roysa’s accounting, Agora had the more powerful title within her country, and Roysa had the more powerful country. The balance would shift towards whichever woman had the home court advantage.

“I think we should have one of the ministers with us, though, even if it’s not you,” Avery said. It would demonstrate they were attending not just as individuals, but as a delegation from a country. A country that had a vested interest in Theren’s future.

“Lord Brennan maybe,” Roysa suggested. “He would appreciate the gesture of your confidence, to have him attend such an important event, and other than the Minister of War, he’s probably had the most reason to be keeping up with Theren these days. And hopefully, shall have the most reason to do so in the future.”

Arriving in a warship was a show of force, a reminder. Bringing Beleth’s chief military advisor- a man who still publicly advocated for harsher treatment of Theren- could hardly be interpreted as anything other than aggression.

Avery nodded. “He’ll be able to speak with the Theren nobles, establish himself and his credentials in economic matters. He and Lord Basilius could even discuss the potential of future lumber trades,” he pointed out, as he was pretty sure Basilius’s lands contained the majority of Theren’s mature woodlands.

“Megara does not sell much in the way of lumber, nor do they sell it cheaply, considering the quality of their particular tree growth. That's why they're the poorest region.” Nuri noted absently as he thought on how taking Lord Brennen from here would prevent the Lords from accessing him to discuss their new tax proposal and how that would affect things.

“I think going on the warship is wise, as is taking Lord Brennan instead of the Minister of War. This matter takes precedence over keeping a thumb on the developments of everyone's negotiations with each other regarding the tax proposal. But I’m sure Lady Roysa that you can fill us in once we get back. That is if we even have time to announce it. When do we leave? What do we even bring as a wedding gift...” Nuri twiddled with a knickknack on the shelf, as if that would suffice for the royal couple.

“Cromwell is good at that sort of thing. Surprisingly. I don't think my father ever even knew what he sent other Kingdoms as a gift; it was always Cromwell handling it.”

“Let us hope he does not already have a gift chosen,” Roysa said ruefully.

Nuri fully suspected that he did.

“You think he already knows?,” Avery asked, and Roysa considered.

“...Looking back on our recent conversations with a new perspective, I cannot find anything to suggest he was hiding something so enormous,” she admitted. “But… I do not think we can trust him at his word if we ask, nor am I particularly eager to admit that we don’t know whether he knows. Or that we only just found out ourselves,” she said.

“I wouldn’t be shocked if he did. His alliance is to his queen ultimately. And there's no better secret keeper in Theren,” Nuri said. “I don't think we need to be concerned necessarily if he does or doesn't. Just about the treaty, which he is heavily invested in too. Though, thinking back… no I can't be sure. We may never know if he already knew or not…” Nuri sighed again and shrugged.

“But giving him a task to do on short notice will at least occupy him. Idle hands as they say.” Leaving Cromwell's hands idle was never a good idea. That was when he came up with his best schemery.

“Emerson’s still working on trying to befriend him, yes,” Roysa asked of Avery, who nodded. It was a testament to her growing trust of Nuri to allude to the fact that Emerson’s motivations were often dictated, when even she and Avery rarely discussed it so plainly.

“He will mention the wedding to the Lord Chancellor as though he presumes Cromwell already knows, and gauge his reaction,” she decided. “Tomorrow morning you can meet with him formally, invite him to attend with you and task him with thinking of a gift. Claim you were going to send gold or jewels,” she suggested, as it was a standard gift that Beleth sent to foreign countries for important events. “And now that you’ve decided to go yourself, you are hoping for something more personal.” She frowned. “Though…. Perhaps assign him a secretary to run his errands for him,” she added. It wouldn’t do to just hand him a ready made excuse to be in and out of the city, where he might be able to communicate with anyone.

“You could also ask him to reexamine some aspect of the tax proposal, if you wish to keep him busy- Perhaps you want to know what it might cost to exempt livestock. You should decide if you want to announce it before or after you leave,” she added. “Announcing it and then leaving, allows the families to discuss it without being able to speak to you or Lord Brennan directly about it, which could go poorly,” she pointed out, voicing Nuri’s earlier thought.

“But it also suggests that you are planning to proceed with your plans as you have always intended, and are not concerned about the wedding,” she suggested. “And it gives them plenty to talk about that isn’t the wedding- Given a few days to stew, they may well turn on each other and scramble to your door for the best deal once you return.”

“That would be the ideal outcome.” Nuri looked to Avery, “I hadn't even thought yet that it would naturally distract them from the wedding.” Good, another thing to be furious towards Meera about. Here they were, sacrificing the controlled outcome of his very first proposal to allow it to become chaotic gossip fodder instead. It would either work in his favor or against him but he'd have to leave that to chance, rather than his careful curation.

“We’ll do that, they can chew on it for the duration of our visit while we focus on fixing this matter. Genius distraction Aunt.”

“Is there anything else we should sort out before we all run off to a wedding we definitely knew about before this morning?” Nuri raised a brow, looking between Lady Roysa and his husband.

“... I agree that we do not have enough information at this time to formulate a plan,” Roysa said slowly. “You will need to ascertain many things during your visit before you can make a decision, but chief among them are- Who is truly wielding the power of the crown, and how motivated they are to maintain the peace,” she cautioned. “It is possible your sister has been convinced by others to pursue this course of action, but you must help her to understand: She is risking her authority, her country’s stability, and her child in one move. She cannot have all three, even if we were to take no action.”

“And if she will not understand,” Avery prompted. Maybe Meera would agree to discontinue the pregnancy. Maybe she would agree to disinherit the child, or have them raised in Beleth. Maybe she would agree to what the Beleth nobles had originally pushed for, for Theren to be absorbed into Beleth entirely and for her throne to be dissolved. Maybe.

“Then we will have to take action,” Roysa said simply.

‘She is no simpleton!’ Nuri did not dare say, for her actions proved otherwise. He had to bite down on the panic that set in the change in direction of the conversation and carefully school his features. This wasn't an unreasonable reaction to an affront like this.

“I was supposed to authorize the withdrawal of troops from Delphi this morning,” Avery said.

“Yes, I gathered that,” Roysa said, having understood why Avery had asked her to take the meeting once she’d learned about the wedding.

“It would be impolite of me to be in the city, and not meet with my men,” he pointed out. “I will gather assessments on how the country is doing.” Where it was still weak. Where it was vulnerable to being weakened further.

“Threats to renew the hostilities may be a very effective encouragement,” Roysa agreed. “But… Do not make threats you are not willing to follow through on. We have already backed down enough,” she sighed. Maybe if they hadn’t, Meera would not be testing them like this.

Nuri wondered if this defiance was worth the continued military presence to his mother and sister. His mother in particular had been rather furious. What did they think was going to happen here?

He felt all fight and indignation leave him at once. A tired numbness slipping into place instead. There would be no winning no matter what he did.

“There will be no easy solution,” Avery acknowledged. He doubted any of this was going to endear him to Nuri’s family- But maybe if they hated him enough, Nuri’s relationship with them wouldn’t suffer as well.

“Well...” Roysa said hesitantly, looking between them. “I hate to be intrusive…”

“Unlikely,” Avery said with a roll of his eyes and a wave of his hand. “Continue.”

“I would be negligent in my duties as an advisor to the Crown, if I did not point out that this situation might be more manageable if you had an heir of your own, older than Queen Meera’s.”

Avery looked away.

Nuri perked up. Previously glazed over expression no longer avoiding Lady Roysa.

“Is this… There is no shame in consulting with one of the royal physicians, if attempts have been unsuccessful,” she said, treading delicately on a topic that Avery had previously warned her off of.

“Attempts have not been made at all. So I hardly think the attentions of a physician will make much of a difference.” Nuri said plainly, honestly. Coming clean on a subject that had been avoided for quite some time now.

“We’ve made certain choices at the pace we are going Lady Roysa and we understand… I understand…” Really this matter was his responsibility, Avery could hardly bear any heirs. “That this situation could have been avoided with different choices. But there's no unmaking those choices now. She is pregnant and I am not.”

Tansy… Wormwood… Rue. There were quite a few plants that could change this situation. Loquat leaves in an ointment even. He desperately did not want to do this. Could he cross a line that evil? Sabotaging his own sister’s womb, stopping the birth of a niece or nephew?

By the same vein, how could Meera be so callously thoughtless? Of not only her entire Kingdom but of him. She had to know. She was no idiot. That getting pregnant before him would humiliate the state of his marriage to everyone. A humiliation that he was capable of bearing to be sure. And a small matter next to the treaty. But she had to know this. Right?

“It's my understanding you suspected as much anyway.” Nuri noted.

Roysa, for once, was silent.

“No,” she clarified. “I was… Unaware.”

She had known Avery wanted to avoid a situation in which parentage might be called into doubt, but it had been months now. She had assumed that at this point, efforts were being made, though she had suspected such efforts had not been given the urgency she felt they deserved.

Roysa turned her gaze on her nephew, who unlike his husband, did not look back, and she sighed.

“I will speak with Grace and Emerson- Avery, dispatch a letter to Jamatal about the ship. I will arrange for a riverboat to take you there,” she continued. Two river boats, maybe, depending on number of servants and guards, she thought. “Let me know how many will be in your party,” she added. “You’ve a meeting with Lord Brennan this afternoon to go over some of the finer details of the tax proposal, so you can invite him then,” she carried on, not at all concerned that she was more or less giving orders to her monarchs.

“I think Lord Cromwell was hoping to attend, so I will arrange something else for him- He and I can meet with the spymasters to go over anything new he has found regarding the attack on your person,” she suggested. She didn’t know if anything new had been found, but the spymasters would confirm they knew of no active conspiracies against the royal family, which would lend credence to the narrative that Avery and Nuri had only recently decided to attend the wedding.

She was headed for the door, tasks and plans in her mind, when Nuri spoke.

“Just one more thing. Lady Aunt, if you could find a way to acquire some rue and wormwood, the wormwood must be young leaves, but the rue dried. Quietly. Just in case I should need to take matters into my own hands.” Nuri couldn't be connected to the acquisition of these things, Cromwell would know. If he didn't already guess and make up his mind to watch the Queen's consumption of every little thing.

Roysa turned to Nuri with a frown- Hers was of understanding, though Avery’s was of confusion.

“That is-”

There were many things she might say to finish that sentence, but she reconsidered all of them.

“-Possible,” she finished. “I will have Lord Emerson acquire them,” she decided. “He is remarkably good at acquiring things he shouldn’t, without anyone knowing,” she said dryly. “I assume he will travel with you?”

Avery looked at Nuri for any objections, but nodded hesitantly.

“I have found him to be an asset in uncertain situations,” Avery said. “And his position will have a certain… Utility.”

“You are planning on sacrificing him to the Queen Mother’s retribution?,” Roysa said, with a slight smile. Emerson’s unflappable demeanor in the face of an angered woman who knew she could treat him poorly with minimal repercussions- She had only ever experienced it as one of the parties involved, instead of an audience. She might even be sad to miss it.

Avery looked askance at the suggestion.

“Because people will talk to him in a very different way than they would to us,” Avery returned- Which he supposed was applicable to the Queen Mother as well. The same gossip Veora might gather, would be presented differently to an outsider, and not just in the court. Emerson could walk through Delphi’s markets, not as a soldier or a noble, and learn what the common people really thought of the wedding- And the treaty it threatened.

“Be forewarned, I understand and accept his relationship with the crown now but others will find it extremely odd and a breach of decorum. And… come to similar mistaken conclusions as I initially did.” Nuri looked pointedly at Avery, “Maybe it's best to pretend he has a formal title or something.”

Nuri couldn't tell if he was making this suggestion because of the nagging feeling of possessiveness itching at the back of his scalp or if he was being magnanimous on behalf of Lord Emerson…

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

Lord Emerson & Lord Chancellor Cromwell
dance around each other

in cromwell's office...

“He didn't even wake…” Puppies sure slept like the dead when they were tired, and he'd been so energetic earlier. What with his newfound ability to walk and all.

Cromwell gave his little black head a small stroke and rose up, Emerson still drinking the wine he'd offered him to wash down… the taste of other things he'd swallowed.

As pleasant an unexpected distraction as that had been, Cromwell really did have to get back to his letter. The Dowager Queen Agora of House Delphi was a demanding creature who demanded responses to her letters unreasonably fast. Whenever one showed up everything else had to be put aside in favor of answering it.

Though to be fair, rarely did she write anything that was not of great importance.

He deliberately reached across Lord Emerson, invading his space, and plucked the letter from where it had been moved to the side. The pretty fox had been eyeing it.

“I already should've punished you for sitting on my desk, don't go reading my letters now. Then I really might…” He let the redhead imagine the end of that sentence.

Cromwell was joking, half anyway.

Emerson raised an eyebrow in mock concern. “My sincere apologies, I shall leave your desk alone in the future. I think I have a better idea for where I could sit next time,” he said pointedly with a wink, and then frowned at the dog in the corner.

“But in the future, I could do without the dog present, I think,” he said. He’d very nearly changed his plans when he’d seen it sleeping in the corner, but he’d had his mission.

“You aren’t taking it on the trip, are you,” he asked, wrinkling his nose in exaggeration once he had Cromwell’s attention. “The Arrow’s got at least five mousers on board, I don’t think they’d take kindly,” he pointed out.

“Dogs behave how you raise them.” Cromwell said in response, an almost smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he retreated and sat down behind his work station. His non-answer was his answer, he couldn't abandon his new pet project at the most crucial stage. It would need to develop sea legs and learn to ignore distractions at some point anyway. If it were to be a useful thing. Cromwell did not abide by the unuseful.

“Maybe Lady Roysa would look after it for you,” he suggested. “She doesn’t plan on coming, and she at least can be trusted not to change her mind,” he said with an eye roll, as if to commiserate on the fickle decisions of monarchs. “Didn’t even go to her own namesake's wedding, so. But wait, wasn’t she the one who didn’t want the pup in the first place? Maybe not, then,” he reasoned.

“He's rather past the stage for culling my Lord… One would think he'd done you some great wrong.” Cromwell said amusedly.

“I don’t like dogs,” Emerson said simply. His cousins had set the hunting dogs on him, time and time again. And when he’d broken one of the wretched beast’s jaw with a vicious kick, his mother had said nothing against his punishment. The dog at least, she’d said, was useful.

“He likes you, his tail wags when you come around.” Cromwell pressed, teasing further as he poured himself some wine. And continued to pour. And continued.

His expression grew stormy as the wine overflowed from the cup.

“Umm,” Emerson said.

Cromwell barely noticed and absently set the pitcher down. This letter… The Queen. The trip. Cromwell hadn't even thought twice about what trip Lord Emerson could have possibly meant. An error due to his rather relaxed state of mind.

Crafty fox indeed. Emerson had caught him with his pants down hadn't he?

Emerson grabbed at the pair of cloth napkins on the side table, and leapt to begin mopping up the mess.

“Goddess, are you all right,” he asked Cromwell with a frown. “This is no way to treat a perfectly fine vintage,” he scolded. “Or your so-sacred desk.”

Cromwell hadn’t seemed to find Emerson’s comments unusual, but maybe this was a delayed reaction? Emerson found himself hoping that was the case- And then tried not to examine too closely why he might have such hopes.

As if he hadn't just spilled a bunch of vintage wine Cromwell explained. Holding up the letter to the candle flame so it's contents burned away to ashes. It fell into his wine cup, and Emerson frowned at the continued misuse of perfectly acceptable wine.

“Lady Roysa had wanted me to meet with her and the spymasters tomorrow. No doubt she is curious as to what, if anything, has been found regarding the assassination attempt some months ago. But the problem is not if anything has been found. It's about what can be proven. And while I can with reasonable certainty ascertain who the culprit is. I can not prove anything. Not in a way that will stand up in any proper court. Which a man of such standing, even having committed treason, must be given trial in.” He said, knowingly implying that Lord Emerson was going straight to her tonight to give her a report on what he'd found out from him.

With any luck, Emerson would think the letter had to do with that matter, and not the fact that the Queen Dowager had just informed him of something he should have been informed of much sooner.

Leaving him utterly blindsided and far too lax. He'd have a thing or two to say once back in Theren. Especially to the clerical assistant he had left in his absence, whom he had thought was becoming rather competent in his duties.

“And you said the love letter would lead to nothing.” Cromwell distinctly remembered the redhead’s contrary opinion of the one good piece of damning evidence he'd found.

“In my defense, love letters so rarely lead to anything,” Emerson joked, a bit confused by the abrupt topic change but willing to follow it. He supposed that was what the letter was about- Or had been about, he supposed. Now it was dregs in ruined wine.

“It and the armor has led to the region of the Duke of Gonby. Who has viciously elected to kill the blacksmith and his family, because he could have testified against him.” Cromwell sighed, “Killed shortly after my men arrived.”

“Gonby? That seems… Uncharacteristic for him,” Emerson mused. The Duke was a reserved man, not prone to involving himself with the power jockeying of the other families, and violence against his own citizens seemed extreme. And as far as Emerson knew, he’d never shown any tendency towards disloyalty to the crown, especially since- Ah.

“Queen Ysmena,” Emerson concluded with a sigh. “Was his niece. And she-”

-“And he presumes he can take vengeance on her death by assassinating the prince. Yes, most likely.”

Emerson trailed off as Cromwell interrupted. The dead queen’s secrets weren’t his to tell, especially to someone who was still mostly a stranger. And potential enemy.

Ysmena’s death was reason enough for the Duke to hate Nuri, and that was motive right there.

“Well, it sounds like a headache,” Emerson agreed. They certainly couldn’t accuse a duke of treason with only a dead blacksmith as proof. “But I’m sure you and Lady Roysa and the spymasters can figure something out to tie him to the attempt,” he said encouragingly, picking up the sopping napkins and then frowning when he realized he didn’t have anywhere to put them.

Cromwell eyed Emerson's hands and his brain caught up with the wine all over his desk.

“Curses, made a damned mess.” He lamented, the chair loudly sliding on the floor as he got up and took the soiled napkins from Emerson, tossing them into the fireplace with little care. As though he were getting rid of evidence.

“I’ll figure something out, I always do in the end…” He poked the rubbish with the fire poker, brow furrowed in thought. Though not about the Duke.

A hesitant silence followed.

“Well- I’ll leave you to that then,” Emerson said, unsure if he had been dismissed or not. “I just… At the risk of being a fool- more than usual, I mean- I wanted to be sure I’m reading this correctly,” Emerson said. He sounded a bit uncertain, and hated himself when he realized it wasn’t an act.

“This has been... Very enjoyable, of course. Very,” he said, licking his lower lip as he glanced towards Cromwell. He was never so nervous that he couldn’t flirt his way through it.

Cromwell straightened up, squaring his shoulders as he studied Emerson.

“And I’ll still be your friend regardless,” Emerson assured him, as he could hardly just stop bothering the other man altogether. “But if you are interested in… Repeating our recent activities- And I won’t be hurt if you aren’t,” he clarified, because he wouldn’t be. Emerson was one of the few people who made any effort to socialize with the chancellor, which made him a convenient choice, and Emerson didn’t care at all if he had his sights set elsewhere. Why would Emerson care?

“...But, well, are you interested?” He had had some smooth line to finish that sentence that made him sound cavalier and sophisticated, that had totally abandoned him in his moment of need, and instead he’d asked a stupid question that made him sound desperate and pathetic and he was already mentally berating himself in embarrassment.

“I'm terribly picky.” Cromwell stated matter of factly, setting the poker aside carefully, and moving over to the redhead. Intent on invading his space again. It was one of his new favorite activities that Beleth offered.

“And don't bother with people I’m not interested in. Not if I don't have to. And to be honest, there's plenty of reason I should not allow someone with your duties and loyalties so close to a man with… my duties. My loyalties.” He loomed over the pretty little thing that had quickly become enrapturing and took a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger, brushing his cheek with his knuckles as he played with it.

Emerson’s hands came up between their bodies, as if he might create space between them- It was remarkable, considering how scant the difference in their height was, that Cromwell could make him feel so small. Instead of pushing Cromwell away, though, Emerson’s fingers curled in the cloth of the other man’s shirt.

“Nevertheless, I am very interested.” Cromwell’s eyes bore into his as he hoped competitively that he had said the magical combination of words that would ensnare another visit. He had succeeded earlier, let him succeed again. He wanted more. He wasn't sated yet.

“Well,” Emerson faltered. He could describe a hundred filthy acts down to the basest details and not blush. So it was impossible that his face was pink and his cheeks flushed. “I was only going to suggest that next time then, we might choose a location with more suitably horizontal surfaces,” he said lightly.

The chaise lounge was likely sturdy, but might be a bit uncomfortable for two people and- Hell, it was sturdy, Emerson decided as his finger’s tightened and he pulled Cromwell closer still.

“But I suppose… We could make do for now,” he suggested, his breath warm against Cromwell’s neck.

“What was that about sitting on my lap you said earlier?” Cromwell imparted helpfully as he let Emerson steer them, spinning them around so he sat dead in the middle. Hand firmly on the Redhead’s hip.

His directness startled a genuine laugh out of Emerson, who fell onto the other man as guided.

“Ah yes, it was that.” Cromwell said before closing the snare with a heated kiss. Ashes of the Dowager Queen’s letter forgotten in the wine.

code by @fudgecakez

 

[jones573]

Emerson, Grace, Roysa



Grace's Apartments, Redhill



The next day

Dresses & Discussions,
Sentiments & Sabotage

“How about this one,” Grace asked excitedly, holding up a pink dress with sprays of pearl accents and spinning around so the skirt flared out.

“No,” Emerson said without much more than a glance.

“I know you don’t like this dress because it clashes with your hair,” she acknowledged. “But I can’t make all my sartorial choices based on what’s most flattering to you! Besides, we won’t be spending much time together,” Grace pointed out. “I’ll be meeting with every noble’s son who isn’t yet married, and I imagine Lord Brennan would much rather have you dancing with him instead of with me. You do look very good in blue,” she said with a grin.

Emerson didn’t return the smile.

“No?,” she asked curiously.

“I’m not going to learn much by spending time with people I can see here at Redhill, am I? I’ll have to do a lot of mingling,” he said, to defend his less than enthusiastic response to her assumption that he would be spending his time with Brennan.

“Well, I know we are up to the task,” Grace said confidently. Emerson did not bother to remind her that she would not be coming. It was an argument she could have with her aunt or her brother, and he preferred to stay out of it.

She moved the pink dress to the ‘yes’ pile- Emerson had said no to all of them, but his input seemed to have very little influence.

“Theren has a much longer coastline than we do,” he said. “And warmer waters.”

Grace looked at him curiously.

“Pearls are a novelty to us- In Theren, its industry.”

Grace reexamined the dress. In Beleth, even the small pearls that studded the garment were expensive. But in Theren… She would look like she was trying to blend in, and doing a cheap job of it.

“What about that green one, with the pearls sewn into the floral motif on the cuffs,” he suggested. It was more restrained in the embellishment, and would be unique in a culture that embroidered their garments rarely.

“It might be too heavy,” Grace contemplated. She’d been focusing on her summer wardrobe, and though the dress Emerson spoke of was not wool, it was warm enough that she could wear it now comfortably, with a dusting of snow covering the capital city.

“So ditch the dozen underskirts,” he said, and the princess looked scandalized at the suggestion.

The door in the far corner opened and Grace startled noticeably, but Emerson didn’t even look to see who it was. There were only a handful of people that the princess’s guards would let through without first asking her permission, and only one besides himself who her servants would not have formally announced.

“I thought I made it quite clear,” Roysa told her niece, eyeing the pile of dresses. “That you would not be going on this… Excursion.”

“You did mention that, yes,” Grace said hurriedly. “Except I’ve been thinking, and I really ought to come, I’ll be so useful, I promise-”

“No,” Roysa said, but Grace continued as if her aunt hadn’t spoken.

“Because you need people to imagine all sorts of reasons for this wedding besides the actual reason, right, and I’ve got a whole host of them, depending on how the person views Meera- Queen Meera,” she corrected herself, and Roysa waved her hand in a gesture that Grace clearly took to mean ‘continue’, regardless of its actual intent.

Grace tapped her index finger on one hand against the other as she began to list.

“Why, just the other day, I was talking to Lady Alis about how lucky I am for my brother to have married for political alliance, as it relieves me of the same burden-”

“Oh, does it now,” Roysa asked doubtfully, and Grace laughed.

“Yes, that’s what Alis said, too,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But Nuri and Avery’s marriage was progress politics, and that’s different than stability politics. I will wed to strengthen diplomatic ties, not forge new ones. Which means I can have a much broader selection of suitors, maybe even some that I like, and my personal preferences might even factor into the final decision,” she continued.

“You want to paint Queen Meera as a lovesick youth,” Roysa surmised.

“Well- She could marry into Ruhar or some other foreign country- Which would be an obvious threat to the treaty with us, so that’s out. She could wait until we picked a husband for her. Or she could choose a nobleman from her own court and marry him before we can object, whose selection would support her agenda, who she already fancied- I mean, he supported her through a war and the loss of her father and her brother, it’s so romantic, and I hear he has the most gorgeous hair,” Grace gushed with an exaggerated dreamy sigh.

Roysa looked unimpressed.

“And for those who would rather see her as a schemer than a fool- Well, it’s not exactly a secret, that our nobles have been hoping she would marry one of their sons. She’s thumbing her nose at them by choosing first- And it is a smart match. If she’d chosen one of her generals or a military advisor, we could hardly see that as anything but aggression. A king who’d been so recently beaten by us could be out for revenge. And Megara is probably her region with the most natural resources- By choosing him, she is signaling a focus on domestic affairs, on rebuilding the country.”

“Not to mention he’s got the only viable lumber industry,” Emerson added. “They’ll still need us for immediate infrastructure needs, but if they can make Megara’s industry more efficient, they may not need us long term.”

Grace beamed. “Our nobles won’t like the idea that she’s trying to undercut them, but it’s a perfectly reasonable motive.”

Roysa sighed. “And I suppose you have already prepared half a dozen ways to plant these notions in the mind of anyone within hearing distance, tailored to what perception of Queen Meera they are most likely to buy into?”

“Of course,” Grace said brightly.

“Then that’s exactly what you shall do,” Roysa allowed, and Grace looked positively radiant.

Emerson pitied her, and wondered how such a bright girl could manage to be so willfully obtuse.

“Here. In Redhill.”

Grace’s face fell. “But-”

“We do not care what the Theren nobility thinks of this wedding,” Roysa reminded her niece. “It matters very little. What does matter is what our nobles think. And as you have just demonstrated, you are more than prepared to send their thoughts scurrying in all sorts of directions.”

“But-”

“Grace, please,” Roysa said with finality. “You are needed here. I need you here. I cannot hold small court and attend the Council meetings and create interest in the new tax proposal and see to the functioning of the court and half a dozen other things, all by myself.”

Grace pouted, looking at her dresses.

“I never get to go anywhere,” she said sadly, and Roysa cupped her cheek.

“I’m sorry, my darling. Someday,” she promised, and Grace sighed, defeated.

Emerson was glad Roysa had not needed to address the larger concern- That Grace was the only heir of new monarchs in an unstable region. He’d seen her jump when Roysa had entered. He didn’t think she needed the reminder of the fragility of her own safety.

“Their present isn’t going to be done in time, then,” she grumbled. She could have been working on the embroidered table runner instead of pulling all her summer dresses out of storage, but neither Roysa nor Emerson pointed that out. “And you,” she said to Emerson. “Have to tell me everything.”

“I promise,” he agreed. “I will create an itemized list of Her Majesty’s eligible cousins and their best features.”

Grace wrinkled her nose.

“No?”

“If I marry into the Theren royal family, it opens up competing claims to either throne,” she pointed out. “Plus- Then my children and Meera’s children are related.”

“Queen Meera's,” Roysa corrected.

“And I suppose it would depend on the cousin, the degree of closeness. But still- Theren isn’t keen on cousins marrying each other.”

Roysa raised an eyebrow. “And you have already decided that your children are marrying Queen Meera’s?”

Grace shrugged. “It’s a good back up,” she said practically. “If Vee and Nuri don’t have heirs, or they don’t live to adulthood- We can still unite the countries under a noble heir who can claim both thrones. I was reading the history of the Jolessic islands,” she said, referencing an obscure country, half a world away.

“After their civil war, the leaders decreed that their grandchild would rule the combined territory, instead of immediately creating one country. It gave their citizens time to adjust to the idea, and to make their own alliances- People did not resent the changes, because they were the ones implementing them! They married their own children across the strait and reached business accords with their counterparts because they wanted to be the ones to flourish under the new regime. By the time Queen Winnamina was of age, she could not have separated the islands if she’d wanted.”

When courtiers in Redhill sneered at the idea of treating Theren with respect, Grace wondered if Joless had not had the right idea. How much more eager would the Beleth families be to treat with their Theren counterparts, if they saw it as consolidating future power instead of conceding their current superiority?

“That was hundreds of years ago,” Roysa observed, though she was pleased that Grace was at least reading her histories. “And the islands had luxuries we do not- Isolation, and time.” With minimal external factors- and threats- they could be relatively certain their plan might work. “But- Emerson, do pay attention to the eligible bachelors beyond the Queen’s cousins, won’t you?”

“I will pay the utmost attention to all of Theren’s many handsome, unmarried nobility,” he swore solemnly, and Roysa snorted.

“I’m sure you will,” she agreed. “But you still have those sapphire hair pins Lord Brennan gave you, don’t you,” Roysa asked, and he nodded. “You should take those- You’ll both be busy as delegates to the crown, but I’m sure he’d appreciate the sentiment regardless. And you need something to keep your hair off your face if you refuse to get it trimmed,” she chided.

He liked to think the loose pieces that wouldn’t stay in the tie gave him an air of boyish handsomeness, but Roysa did not seem to agree.

“Emerson is no longer interested in sentiments from Lord Brennan,” Grace piped up with the impish know-it-allness of a busybody little sister, and Emerson turned in surprise.

“That isn’t true,” he said reflexively- It was too quick a defense, and Roysa looked at him suspiciously.

“Isn’t it? I’ve been watching,” Grace said smugly, her earlier pout replaced with proud delight for her observations and inquiries. Looking back on their conversations over the last few weeks, he could see all the places he had walked right into her traps.

“Emerson,” Roysa said evenly. “If you wish to interact less with Lord Brennan, I will make that happen. You are not required to be friendly with people simply because it is convenient for the crown’s agenda.”

“I know that,” Emerson said with annoyance. Grace was the worst, and he reminded himself to be more careful around the princess.

Both women looked at him expectantly, and Emerson sighed. Even if he denied it, he knew Roysa would doubt his words in favor of Grace’s assessment. This was the problem of having lied to her so often.

“He’s just… Boring,” Emerson eventually said. “He tells the same stories over and over again, and I’ve heard them all. Even the ones that were funny at first have lost their charm. And not to be vain, but he looked much better when he had more hair,” Emerson added lightly.

Though he hadn’t really had that much more hair than he did now, when Emerson had first met him.

“I’ve no particular ill feelings towards him,” Emerson promised. “I suppose Grace is right that my personal interest in spending time with him has waned,” he admitted. “But it's not as if I object to doing so.”

They didn’t need to know about Brennan’s.... Recent habits. Emerson knew he wasn’t really all that big, but compared to how he’d been when he’d still been using hard drugs- He was heavier than he’d been then of course, but he’d hardly thought much of it until Brennan had started pointing it out. And continued to do so.

It was getting kind of annoying- Much like the story about the time Brennan and his sister had swapped their father’s coins for counterfeits when they were children, or the time he’d hunted a whale off the coast of Yetun, or any of the other stories that Emerson could probably recite back. It was even more annoying to Emerson that he was letting it get to him.

Just because he was more muscular, because his collarbones and cheekbones didn’t stick out so much, didn’t make him less attractive. Or at least, no one else had said so.... Yet, at least. Maybe they were all thinking it, and too embarrassed for him to point it out, and he was just as ugly and useless as-

“Hmm,” Roysa said. “Well- It would be hard to remove you entirely from his social circle,” she considered. “But I can at least stop arranging for you to meet ‘accidentally’,” she decided.

“Sure,” Emerson said, as if it didn’t really matter to him either way, and not as if there was a sudden relief blossoming under his ribs. “I guess.”

Roysa continued to look at him with suspicion, but eventually decided she was unlikely to get any further information, and moved on.

“And your assignment?”

“I already told you this morning when we talked after you met with the spymasters, it’s inconclusive- Something in the conversation definitely shook him, but it’s hard to know what, especially since we covered a lot of topics,” Emerson replied, his mind returning to his time the night before with the Lord Chancellor. “And he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me directly.” It wasn’t the first time that day his mind had returned to Cromwell's office, though at least this time it had been prompted by someone else.

“Yes, well, he’s not an idiot,” Roysa reasoned. “I meant... The other thing, though.”

Emerson waved his hand airly. “Already taken care of,” he said, and Roysa looked surprised.

“Really? When have you had time to go into the city,” she said suspiciously, and Emerson laughed. Even a noblewoman as involved in the daily operations of her home as Lady Roysa didn’t know everything that happened under her roof- Or in her gardens.

“Both have many other uses, and can be found in Redhill easily enough,” he told her with a laugh. Cara had gotten the rue by complaining of cramps to a friend who worked in the herb pantry, and Emerson had gotten the wormwood by simply asking the royal physician for it- Along with the rest of the ingredients needed to mix the ointment used on the King’s shoulder.

Grace’s face was pinched with concern. “Wormwood’s so bitter to ingest though, isn’t it? Won’t she know and refuse the drink?”

Roysa frowned. “The flavor cannot be disguised entirely, but with enough sugar- Perhaps she will not put it together until afterwards,” she said, trying not to dwell on Nuri’s plans. She had enough of her own plans to attend to.

“Have you spoken to Lord Escalus,” she asked Grace, who nodded brightly.

“I had breakfast with him and Alis and [Alis’s sister/Escalus’ cousin] this morning. They bullied him into agreeing to host a party!,” she said proudly, pleased with herself and with her friends. She hadn’t even had to bring up the idea at all, only agree that it would be enjoyable to have some social events more suited for the younger courtiers.

“And,” she said conspiratorially, “He even asked them if they thought Lady Nyme might like to attend! He was very hesitant about it, it was positively adorable,” she gushed, as if that wasn’t the entire point.

Grace wanted for Nyme and Mercy to have something to do while in Redhill for the week, and to remind them of the opportunities they had in Beleth. Escalus’ cousins were thrilled that he was interested in someone- someone who seemed to reciprocate that interest- and were delighted to play matchmaker. Even Alis, who was normally more reserved of the sisters, had seemed to enjoy coaching her cousin through his shyness and brainstorming things he could talk to Nyme about.

“Well that’s something going right, then,” Roysa said, rising from where she had been sitting. “I’m afraid I have much to do still- Emerson, any insight on why your cousin has failed to sign off on the final version of the lumber trade agreement?”

“Because his father wants to make you uncomfortable,” Emerson suggested.

“Yes, that’s what I was afraid of,” Roysa sighed. The royal courier left for Theren in hours, and she would really have preferred to send him with the finished documents, stamped with the royal seal.

“Ches went to town this morning, he should be back soon,” Emerson said idly. “Arrange for an urgent messenger to depart to Gonby.”

“The Duke of Gonby has already declined to participate in the lumber trade,” Roysa pointed out with a significant look in his direction. That was unlikely to change- Especially considering recent revelations.

“Yes, but Ches doesn’t know that,” Emerson returned. “He may be an idiot, but he’s not stupid- His father will be annoyed that he didn’t make you wait, but he’d be much angrier if Fremont lost the deal to Gonby instead. If Ches thinks you are serious about getting Gonby on board, he’ll do whatever is needed to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“How come you never just call him ‘my uncle’?,” Grace asked.

“I do too call him that," Emerson replied quickly.

“Only in public,” Grace shot back, which was true enough. She'd been careful in her observations. "With us he's always 'Ches' father' or 'the Duke' or-"

“Thank you for the suggestion, Emerson,” Roysa said, finishing the argument before it got further. “I will put it into action immediately. Grace, put those away,” she said with a glance at the dresses. “Your servants spent hours packing them away after the summer, it was very rude to pull them all out again,” she chastised, and Grace nodded meekly.

“And Emerson,” she added. “A courier was looking for you- You got a letter from your estate.”

“Oh, is it that time of the month already?”

Emerson got two letters from his estate each month- The first was from the steward and arrived in the beginning of the month, and consisted of a summary of the last month’s expenses, any notable firing or hiring among the staff, occasional requests for additional funds, and a reminder that the estate would be ready to host its lord at any time, they needed only a day’s notice.

Emerson had at least convinced the man to no longer send such detailed, itemized summaries as he first had- Admittedly, a behavior he applauded in his enemies. That letter he usually replied to, if only to affirm the steward’s decisions and say that no, he had no interest in visiting.

The second letter, from his mother’s physician, arrived midway through the month. Sometimes there were even notes from Emyria herself.

Emerson had never replied to the second letter.

“No, it is not,” Roysa said significantly. “Perhaps after you return from Theren, you could spend some time at your estate,” she suggested. “Even a week or two.”

“Perhaps,” Emerson said tightly, looking down at his book, and she nodded curtly at him before sweeping from the room in her haste to get to the next item on her list.

After she had gone, Grace narrowed her eyes at Emerson. “If she’s so busy with other things, why did she come in the first place?”

“Hmm?,” Emerson asked, looking up from his book. “Maybe she-”

“Maybe someone tattled on me when I asked him to come help me pick my wardrobe,” she accused, and Emerson shrugged.

“Maybe,” he agreed noncommittally. “I’ll help you put them away,” he offered. “Since I hear you have a lot of work to do on a table runner,” he pointed out, and Grace rolled her eyes at him.

After a few minutes of silent work, Grace spoke again.

“We can’t let Nuri do this,” she said quietly.

“Grace- It’s hardly our choice,” he said with as much finality as he could muster, but he prepared himself for a deluge of sentimentality.

“Even if she doesn’t taste it immediately- What then? She loses the pregnancy after accepting a cup of bitter tea from him. She’ll put it together eventually, and their relationship will be ruined. Their personal relationship at the very least, and maybe the political one, too. We can’t put off future hostilities over an heir, by creating different hostilities.”

“I know,” Emerson said heavily. “But it’s not like we have a different option.”

When he looked up, Grace was looking back at him with those wide, innocent brown eyes. Innocent-seeming, at least.

“Grace,” he said carefully. “Do we have a different option?”

“Maybe,” she said. “I’ve been doing some research,” she admitted. “Into more... Unusual methods. Things people in our region wouldn’t necessarily recognize. That could be assumed to be natural causes, and would be much harder to trace.”

“...And?”

“...And I’m not allowed to come with! So. I would need someone else to make it happen,” she said.

Ah, Emerson thought. No wonder she had been so insistent that she go to the wedding.

“I won’t have access to the palace at Delphi the way I do at Redhill,” he warned. “And I won’t have the access you might.”

Grace was young, and a princess, and more likeable than Emerson even when he was trying and she wasn’t. Her trespasses and missteps were more likely to be forgiven, and rarely viewed with suspicion.

“I know,” she said, biting her lip in thought. “But- I still think that we should try. She’s his only sister, Emerson. And I’m pretty sure they were friends, too,” she added, aware that familial ties did not necessarily hold much sway for the bastard of Fremont.

Emerson sighed.

“I know you and Nuri have had your differences,” she said in a rush. “But- This shouldn’t be on him, it’s too much, you know that right? And if you won’t do it for him or for Beleth, would you at least do it for me? Because Nuri is my friend, and it’s my future, too-”

Emerson held his hand up to silence her.

“Grace. Did you hear me say no?”

A slow smile spread across the princess’s face, and she threw her arms around his shoulders, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Oh, thank you, Em!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Emerson warned wearily. “Let’s hear these schemes of yours.”

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

Lady Roysa & The Ladies of Theren
are partially invited to...

And None For You Lady Nyme

“Their Majesties will not be travelling alone, of course,” Roysa continued. The neutral, bland tone and expression that had given the older woman a reputation as being hard to read had been in full force throughout the conversation. Though perhaps it was a bit too one-sided to be called a proper conversation- Roysa had informed the ladies sitting in front of her that she wished to speak with them at their earliest convenience, arrived at the appointed time, and simply began to talk at them once pleasant greetings were finished.

The ladies present nodded quite nearly in unison. Mercidea, Nyme, and Veora sitting perfectly erect, hands folded neatly in their laps. They were not ignorant of the courtship between Lord Basilius and Meera, but much to their chagrin, had not the faintest clue that they were to be officially married so soon. Nyme in particular wondered how it was that Lady Roysa would know before they, and how harsh they should all be on Lord Cromwell for not telling them immediately.

“And they wish to extend an invitation for Lady Veora to join their company,” Roysa said, nodding at the lady in question with a slight smile of approval.

Two heads whipped towards her in surprise, but only one had the self control to smile falsely, and it was not the elder.

“I should warn you, that this will not be a visit of pure entertainment,” she cautioned. “If you accept, you will be assisting Their Majesties navigate the Theren court in a multitude of ways, and offering your own insight on the courtiers, particularly to King Averett and to Lord Brennan. You and Lord Emerson will also be serving as Their Majesties de facto household heads for the duration of their trip- They will be bringing two of their senior staff to see to their basic needs, but you would help Their Majesties in managing their schedules, arranging meetings, and communication with the household staff of Delphi.”

Lady Veora took this to mean that the bulk of that responsibility would be on her. Given both her familiarity with the job, which she performed for Meera, and Theren court in general. If she had to guess, Nuri would be with the King most of the time, while she would be attending to Lord Brennan during festivities.

“I serve at their Majesties leisure, Lady Roysa, and will endeavor to be useful to Lords Brennan and Emerson.” Veora lowered her head in a nod and ignored the pointed look from her sister, all sincere humble graces.

“Perhaps-!” Lady Nyme began, but immediately shut her mouth once she felt her sister’s hand stead her own. Veora wouldn't stop her from speaking her mind or attempting to get her way unless there were other things to consider that she could end up ruining by being too quick.

“You will also have the dubious honor of warning Lord Emerson off of any serious trouble,” Lady Roysa said wryly. “His gift for creating diverting gossip and petty dramas can be quite useful- But if left unchecked, I worry he may cause diplomatic offense,” she warned, with obvious annoyance.

He’d had no way of knowing the woman he’d slept with after that banquet was the favorite mistress of one of Ruhar’s most powerful generals, but it had still caused Roysa an endless headache trying to soothe it over. She supposed she could forgive him for it- It had been years ago, and she doubted he would do something so careless these days. But still. Best to avoid the possibility.

“Lady Veora is the most experienced of us at managing duties of this sort. She's level headed and wise. She won’t disappoint you Lady Roysa.” Mercy cheerfully assured her.

Roysa’s slight smile became a tad less slight. “Of that I have no doubt. I know Their Majesties have the same confidence. I believe they have chosen well.”

She had been intentionally not trying to track their reactions, but they seemed- No. She wasn’t going to do that, she reminded herself.

Emerson was right- There was little use in it. It was impossible to know what exactly they might be reacting to, even if she was able to find any reaction at all. Like herself, these girls had grown up as noblewomen and had mastered a placid countenance. Especially in an audience with someone they didn’t know well and who held authority- She could have announced that Queen Meera was abdicating her throne in favor of Nuri’s cat and was going to live her life on the moon, and they might not have so much as blinked.

And maybe, Grace was right too- That there was no need. These young women were intended to support Prince Nuri and the alliance, and they had only ever done so with as much sincerity and ability as they possessed. They had demonstrated themselves to be smart, kind and resourceful allies, and there was no indication that she should expect them to be any less as time went on. Grace trusted them, and thought that Roysa should as well. And historically- Roysa had to admit, Grace was a better judge of assessing potential allies than she herself was.

“Lady Nyme,” Roysa said, turning her attention to the younger woman. “Did you have something to add?”

Nyme very badly did want to add something, several somethings, to the conversation. But ultimately…

“No Lady Roysa, not at all.” … thought better of it.

Much to the relief of her companions.

“Was there anything else you required of us Lady Roysa?” Veora spoke for them, de facto leader of the trio now. They reverted back to their ladylike courtesies, complacent smiles plastering all their faces.

“No, I do not believe so,” she replied. A slight furrow of disappointment wrinkled the space between Roysa’s eyebrows before it was smoothed away as she stood. She knew she was not…. The most approachable and congenial of figures, but she had hoped the young women trusted her enough to share their concerns with her, at least in private. Though- She had to admit, were she in their place, she would not have either.

“Lord Emerson will not be foisting his own responsibilities off onto you,” she said definitively, hoping she might at least offer some reassurance in that regard. “He has served as His Majesty King Averrett’s primary and sometimes only domestic staff while- While away from Redhill,” she finished, deciding that though ‘while at war with your own native country’ was perhaps the most tangible of Emerson’s experiences in that regard, it did not need to be vocalized.

“He is aware of the expectations and if he is derelict in any way, please do inform me,” she told Veora. “And I will ensure he has ample cause to regret it,” she said with finality that allowed for little doubt.

At this the trio genuinely grinned and giggled, as any mention of Lord Emerson’s antics were likely elicit. He was a favorite with them, despite the incident with Mercy's misunderstanding concerning what she saw happening between him and the King.

Regardless of whether the ladies present had guessed that the ongoing public antagonism between Lady Roysa and the bastard lord was actually how they expressed their affection, it was clear she had both the means and the intent to follow through on making his life miserable, should he do anything to disrupt the royal visit.

And either way, it was all highly entertaining.

All three stood up as Lady Roysa made to leave and the customary Belethan courtesies and curtsies were given. Calmly. A calm which barely lasted long enough for the door to shut behind the intimidating woman.

“Why did you stop me, it isn't as though you couldn't use the help with that many duties. Really! What does Lady Roysa mean by putting so much on your shoulders.” Nyme shot up, huffing and beginning to pace around. “And you can't expect me to miss our Meera’s wedding that is simply out of the question. Mercy too, you can't deprive us of seeing her married, and so suddenly-” Nyme remembered, in afterthought, that Mercy ought to go too. Even if she was being uncharacteristically compliant, did she even want to go?!

“-I really can't imagine how that happened, he hasn't even been recognized as a champion in court or anything, he doesn't even participate in tournaments, the boring man that he is. She shouldn't be so quick to accept just any man as the next King, I knew we shouldn't have left-”

“Nyme you have to breathe at some point.” Mercy helpfully reminded her, hopefully stopping her rant short as she plopped down amongst comfortable pillows. Holding her hand out to help the much more graceful Veora delicately do the same.

“I’m breathing plenty!” Nyme halted, stomping a foot in agitation and gesturing at the two, so calm there, her so-called companions!

“Nyme, you couldn't have possibly thought that we would continue to be in the know the same way we were in Theren. Anything can happen in a matter of days there, and we've been gone for quite a while longer than that. Moreover, it isn't our place to question Meera's choice. It's likely that she saw little reason not to marry him if their situation together became… expedient for any reason.” Veora cautioned.

Nyme was silent for a second, realization hitting her before it hit Mercy. “A baby… it has to be a baby. And they want it born as a true heir.” The political implications of this made what should have been a happy revelation a chilling one instead.

A silence. So many had died already, they could not afford nor win another war.

“He seemed gentle, and good, I think he would be a good father and wise King, the spirits willing.” Veora said finally. Earning her an unladylike snort from her sister.

“And really Nyme, if you want to defy Lady Roysa, telling her that you wish to go very badly and giving her reason to think that you will find a way to do it will only make accomplishing such a thing infinitely more difficult. Wasn't it you who cautioned me to never show my hand?” This advice had proven to be especially successful for Mercy while in Theren. She went unnoticed wherever she pleased both in and out of the castle. Especially since she figured out which guards were bribable.

All the while playing up a compliantly naive persona. She'd learned more in Cokinos than she'd ever had in Delphi. There were so many interesting things going on in the city, and you had to have your wits about you if you didn't want to end up robbed or cut up.

“...I don't think I like being told that by you.” Nyme scowled, but relented into a proud grin at Mercy’s eye’s rolling.

“I suppose… but how is it you're so calm about this?”

“Because I know I can not go, not if you both intend to. Otherwise who will look after Alekxander? Lord Em was right, he isn't having an easy time here.” Mercy had spent just as much time with him as Veora had, given Nyme was much more interested in chasing Dukes than playing at swords with a lonely orphaned boy all day.

Nyme made a guilty face, having not even considered the boy.

“And besides, I don't think I want to face my parents without an engagement to tell them of.” She heaved a great sigh as Nyme groaned and Veora looked away.

“You've only just become of marriageable age Mercy, and no one really gets married before their 20th year anyway.” Nyme remarked worriedly. Mercy’s parents were…

“You haven't a clue how much pressure my parents impressed upon me to… be perfect! And marry advantageously, they want to expand into Belethan territory. They're very insistent and I am a constant disappointment to them as is.” Mercy huffed. She was relieved when she became a lady to the Princess Meera and yet more relieved still to put an entire kingdom between her and the watchful eyes of her parents at the first opportunity she could seize.

Of the three ladies sent with Prince Nuri, Mercy had been the only one to beg Meera to send her away with him.

“You're spirited, and they've never appreciated that about you.” Veora leaned into her shoulder.

“No one ever properly appreciates spirit in a noble wife.” Nyme lamented as she hiked up her skirts and settled next to the pair.

“So we are doomed to be spirited in secret instead.” Well, maybe one Duke did appreciate it, or he seemed to anyway.

Nyme settled into comfort with her girls before promptly disturbing their peace again with a gasp, “My Duke! That's how I’ll do it.”

At Veora and Mercy’s quizzical looks Nyme clarified, “Men always like to be useful to the women they fancy. I needn't be clever in how I get aboard that ship, my Duke can be clever for me and I'll be ever so grateful to him, he'll love that.”

“I aspire to your devious skills in the art of courtship Nyme.” Mercy couldn't tell if she were exasperated or impressed.

“We both do, though Nyme, I wonder if it would be wise to incur the Lady Roysa’s ire like this. She all but expressly stated that you were not coming. You know what mother always said…” A lesson Nyme and their father never seemed to learn, “It is always more expensive to make an enemy than to ma-”

“-Make a friend, yes, I know Veora, we were both taught by the same unflappable woman. Thankfully I remember another proverb she recited; you lose every chance you do not take.”

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

The Royal Party Travels to Jamatal Port

Lady Nyme Gets Her's Anyway

Just according to Nyme’s prediction, Lord Escalus was resourceful and prompt when it came to helping Nyme sneak out ahead of Redhill ahead of the traveling party.

She went by land in a carriage, where they went by water. Made slower by their frequent stops on the path to Jamatal in order to distribute supplies to the commonfolk and wave from a safe distance.

Nyme imagines that her sister was a perfect lady, playing her part in the distribution just as the other Lords in the party did. Just as she would undoubtedly play her part in being shocked and properly embarrassed that her sister was discovered onboard the warship.

They'd agreed between them that Veora must protect her reputation with the Lady Roysa and that she must not seem too willful. She must actively participate in chiding her and make apologies on her behalf. There was little sense in getting them both in trouble upon returning to Cokinos.

But while getting to the ship was something the young Lord was able to help Nyme with, getting onto the ship was up to her. Something she assured him, she'd be able to use her natural wit and charm to accomplish.

“I was sent ahead of my sister, the Lady Veora, to help her make the accommodations necessary for the distinguished passengers of this voyage.” She said to the soldiers blocking her way.

They weren't informed of her participation of this trip, they replied.

“I was told to go ahead of them at the last moment, most things were decided at the last moment given how quickly this trip was put together. As you are well aware. Just as you are well aware of who I am.”

Still they did not budge. And Nyme had to quickly think of something other than rank that would sufficiently scare loyal soldiers into compliance.

“I wouldn't think you would wish to keep me from my duties, given how important they are in attending to our Prince’s comfort. Especially given his happy, but delicate, condition.”

That did the trick, leave it to anything to do with pregnancies and babies to scare hardened soldiers. Especially the prospect of royal ones.

What she didn't anticipate once on the ship however, was the prospect of being thrown off of it. Which she came very near to experiencing once the main party arrived.

-------earlier------

The journey down the river in the royal barge had - of course- taken longer than a normal boat would have, though that was expected. They slowed down each time they approached a town, waiting for one of the sentires they had sent ahead to confirm the town’s militia had been martialed and was patrolling the banks.

Avery and Nuri and the rest waved from the deck of the barge at all the people that came out to see them pass even when the people were only small, undefined shapes in the distance, and at all the sizeable settlements, Emerson oversaw the unloading of supplies from the barge following them onto a smaller boat. Joined by either Lady Veora or Lord Brennan or both, he’d ridden on horseback and sometimes walked to distribute gifts to the crowds- Packets of seeds for the farmers, toys for the children, oil for their lamps, coins and food and wine and other things also parceled out and stamped with the royal seal.

Though the ‘Lord’ of his title may have been largely honorific, it was clear that Emerson excelled at this sort of glad-handing. His wide grin was genuine as he shook the outstretched hands and passed packages out. People cheered when he waved at him, and the soldiers of the various towns all seemed to know him by name. He repeated his thanks for their support of King Averett and Prince Nuri so many times in each hour the words should have been mush by the end, but instead were always clear and articulate.

He led the crowd in a cheer loud enough to be heard on the deck of the barge before he left each settlement, and each time he returned, he complained to his king that his voice was tired and his hands would not stay up any longer and that he thought being out of active military service might mean he was done with parades- But with only a few exceptions, he waved off Brennan’s offer to do the next town without him.

A team of rowers propelled them faster than even the current could take them when night fell or whenever a town was not in view, Lord Brennan asked the Prince and the Lord Chancellor and Lady Veora endless questions about the nobles most likely to be at the wedding, and Avery tried not to worry. In the end, they were only a few hours later to arrive in Jamatal than they had planned for- Possibly for the best, because then Avery didn’t have to agonize about if it was safe for them to do in the city as they had in the villages and towns.

The city rang the bells to announce the royal arrival, and Roysa had already bought up goods for the city’s merchants to be distributed among the city’s poorer districts, so Avery and Nuri again stood on the deck and waved amiably, though now they were flanked by guards carrying shields. He tried not to wince when they crossed beneath bridges, but the guards patrolling the bridges had clearly done their jobs, and only flowers and petals fell to the deck.

They reached the dock where Cicele’s Arrow was berthed, and were off the barge and onto the warship in a flurry of activity. Soldiers, sailors, guards and officers of every variety and rank were rushing about to prepare the ship to unmoor, and one of the mid-level officers hurried to get the party out of the way and to their cabins.

Avery would have preferred to watch the goings-ons, but he appreciated the Arrow’s captain may have the opposite preference, so he followed with only a pang of regret. The officer enlisted a few junior officers to show the rest of the party to their cabins, and continued with the royal couple.

“I apologize, Yer Majesties,” he said, his accent thick beneath his beard as he showed them the room. “I know it ain’t yer usual , but we’ll do what we can to make it home for ya for the next few days.”

Indeed, the entire room was barely more than half the size of their bedroom at Redhill. The space they had entered contained a table that might sit six, built in bookshelves that contained atlases and journals and odds and ends, and a writing desk with the ink well bolted down. There was a large arched doorway to partition off part of the room, and with the weighted curtain drawn back, one could see the rest of the space- A built in chest of drawers with heavy latches to keep them closed, space for traveling chests, a chamber pot and wash basin, and bed that looked comfortable but perhaps just a touch too narrow for two adults. This was a warship, not a luxury vessel, and even the captain’s cabin did not have the amenities of a tub or a large bed. But there were large windows in both sections of the room, and Avery had certainly stayed in far worse.

“This will be fine, thank you,” he said, though the officer still seemed nervous.

“There’s the bell, ya can ring that if ya need anything,” he said, pointing at a bell on a string that presumably ran somewhere else on the ship. “The staircase we passed on the left- Go down that and the officer’s quarters are just ahead, that’s where ya can take yer meals, assuming ya don’t want ‘em private. Room across from it we gave to the ladies,” he explained.

“Lords Brennan and Cromwell are the next level down, across from the captain and the first mate- They still got windows,” he rushed to add, in case that was a concern. “And Lord Emerson said he’d just as rather sleep below decks in a hammock, so we strung some up for him and yer servant staff, but ya just let us know if ya want ‘em closer, we can move the first mate if-”

“This is fine,” Avery repeated. “Thank you for accommodating us.”

“Uh- Of course,” the officer said. “Your Majesties,” he added belatedly, recalling that he could not get away with just saluting Avery as he used to.

Nuri nodded, smiling politely but all around tensed from all the parading and the looks he got boarding the ship. The soldiers were minding their duties for the most part but a few of them looked at him rather curiously.

He was used to being a spectacle in court but found he wasn’t at all well suited to it with the commons. He much preferred the casual anonymity he enjoyed in Delphi. Where the custom was to politely pretend his cloak was a good enough disguise to render him unrecognizable and treat him as just any other patron of the shops. Within reason of course.

Here he felt scrutinized. How was it his sister thrived doing all this? What were her damned secrets?

He let out a relieved sigh he’d been holding in, “Finally, we can-?”

Lady Veora, traveling cloak not yet even unclasped, looking harried and embarrassed, interrupted Nuri in the middle of sitting down onto the bed. He straightened instead, concerned.

“What’s happened…” He exasperatedly asked, Nuri didn’t like that look. Good things didn’t follow that particular look on the Lady Veora’s face.

The Lady in question curtsied in the doorway, and took her queue to enter, eyes trained onto the wooden floors, hands clasped in front of her, looking the very picture of repentance.

“I apologize for interrupting Your Majesties, and for what I am about to say. But I felt it best that you should learn of it from me instead of by surprise…” She glanced up at Nuri, wringing her hands, “I know the Lady Roysa personally invited myself, and myself alone to assist the royal party. But it would appear that my sister, the Lady Nyme, has found her way onboard. Apparently arriving before us.”

“What,” Avery said, in disbelief.

Nuri scoffed, falling back onto the bed, relieved that it was absolutely nothing after all.

“Is that all? You worried me for a moment, I thought it was going to be something serious. I suppose if she’s been clever enough to find her way onboard then she can stay. So long as she knows she’s probably incurred the Lady Roysa’s wrath upon return.” Nuri smirked, glancing up at his husband.

Avery did not return the expression of mirth. He looked like he might march down the stairs to demand answers of her, before recalling that when he wanted to speak with them, they came to him and not the other way around.

“Officer Newport,” he said, his voice even but tight. “Escort the Lady Nyme here immediately.” The man bowed his head and was out the door in an instant, letting it swing shut behind them.

“Lady Veora,” he said, turning his gaze on the elder sister. “What else do you know of this?”

“A very little, I felt it best to inform your majesties promptly.”

Well, at least one of the sisters had a shred of common sense, Avery thought, though it was a pity she didn’t have more context to fill him in on.

Nuri’s expression had gone from amused, to curious, to annoyed, “Why is it any serious matter to us whether she stays or goes? In fact I’m more shocked that Mercy isn't here too somewhere.”

Honestly he should've just ordered that they all come, but by the time it was the morning to leave it was too late. He hadn't spoken to any of them the entire time it took to prepare. They must’ve been anxious about it. Well now he felt a little bad about the whole thing. Just because his sister was to have a few harsh words from him didn't mean that her ladies, loyal as they were, deserved punishment.

Lady Veora had the sense to look alarmed.

“Is she?”

“I would like to believe my sister would have mentioned that...” She trailed off.

“Yes, I would hope so,” Avery said dourly. Not that he had high expectations.

Newport appeared in the door a moment later with the lady herself, looking remarkably neutral for someone who was in trouble.

“Yer Majesties,” he announced himself, seeming unsure if he was to leave at this point, or continue to stay. He glanced at Nyme a bit uncomfortably, as though she had said something particularly off-putting in their brief time together.

“Please send a messenger to the dock authority,” Avery instructed Newport. “We will require a closed carriage to be sent as near our berth as possible. And another to Lord Perrin, that he may have an overnight guest and should prepare as such. Return here once you are done.”

It was a waste of a senior officer’s time to be tending the crown’s whims but- Emerson had saved Newport’s life once, and Avery knew his discretion could be trusted. A cabin boy not be so reliable.

“Is that honestly necessary?” Nuri rolled his eyes. Holding up a hand to halt Officer Newport so he didn't run off and delay them further with this ridiculousness.

“Lady Nyme,” Avery demanded, turning his cold gaze on her and ignoring his husband’s interruption. “Explain your presence.”

“I can not miss her wedding, your majesty.” Nyme replied, matter of factly. “There are days when devoted friends must be there for each other and a wedding is one of those.”

Her chest was tightening by the moment, she hadn't anticipated the King would be this put out by her being there. But she carefully schooled her expression and kept her chin tilted level. She wouldn't be ashamed of her reasons. Moreover, if he kicked her off the boat she'd just procure passage by land… somehow.

“There, no more than Emerson would do for you I imagine.” Nuri pointedly left ‘lord’ out of his address, a bit bitter at the situation.

Avery sighed. He’d been holding out some vague hope that Nyme had been sent here, by his aunt or his sister, instead of just her own disobedience.

“A key difference might be that Emerson was invited to my wedding,” Avery pointed out harshly. If her ‘devoted friend’ had wanted Nyme at her wedding, perhaps she could have said. “And you greatly overestimate his predilection for risking his own life and the diplomatic relationship between countries in one move- How did you travel here,” he pressed. “Did you at least bring guards?”

Nyme’s reddened cheeks looked like she'd been smacked, but she kept her jaw set. Insults she could bare, but she has never been good at anyone, let alone this particular man, pointing out the folly of her Queen. The mere implication that Meera hadn't wanted her ladies, past and present, there! Contemptible man didn't know the first thing about any of them. Let alone her Queen.

“I arrived here securely and through respectable means your majesty.” Was all she'd provide. Honestly, as if Lord Escalus would send her trampsing about the Kingdom without proper escort.

That statement provided absolutely no insight whatsoever as to the security of her travel arrangements, and Avery shuddered at the possibilities.

He had wanted Lady Veora to be visible to the common folk, and Emerson had been sure that she’d had the best gifts to pass out so that people would have a story of the kind and beautiful Theren lady who had given them a new pair of warm shoes just as the winter frosts began. He wanted that because Theren was not still not well-liked among the populace- Which is why he’d sent her next to one of the best fighters and more popular nobles he knew, and only along the roads where guards would be able to walk beside.

Officer Newport slipped out the door, letting it close behind him- Whether he was taking Avery’s orders or merely giving the nobility some privacy, he clearly had no interest in being involved.

“And if you had been robbed or beaten or killed,” Avery spat, “Would you expect me to deliver that morbid news to Her Majesty, or were you perhaps hoping that her brother could be the one to tell her, and it might soften the blow? Do you suppose that I took you and your sister and Lady Mercidae into my care, but that your continued well being and safety was something Her Majesty would not hold me responsible for? Would not fault me for if found lacking?”

The questions were largely rhetorical, and Avery pressed on.

“Tell me, Lady Nyme- Is this sort of disobedience to perfectly clear and simple instructions common among the Theren nobles, and you are merely giving me a sample of the behavior I should expect to see in Delphi? Or perhaps, you are just incredibly insolent,” he proposed. “And have so little respect for me, that you think my authority is merely a suggestion, to be ignored when it suits your whims?”

This, Nyme knew then, was why he was so angry. Why is every man with authority so very predictable?

She looked down, worried and embarrassed, the feelings not needing to be born of lies when you are being yelled at by someone with very real power over your fate. The trick to play acting was to not act at all, but summon the very real vulnerability of the heart, and not be frightened of showing it.

“Please your majesty, it has far less to do with wanting to defy any order, and far more to do with the sort of devotion that a former Queen’s lady still feels for her. I did not think such affection would be so unwelcome or so… so much trouble.” She gulped. That wasn't a lie either, she'd counted much more upon Nuri waving her presence off.

But he'd gone silent, and she didn't dare glance at him with the King’s angry gaze on her still.

“And it didn’t occur to you to ask?” Avery sighed, though he supposed he would likely have said no. He might have at least considered it first, if he’d known that she was this desperate.

“Never mind,” he said, waving his hand. “I will content myself to knowing you have no respect for my crown, I have no need to know that you have no respect for my compassion as well. Lord Perrin has a townhouse here in the city, he will accommodate you tonight,” Avery said dismissively, having already decided his next steps.
“He and his husband are good men, and I trust they will see you back to Redhill safely in the morning.” They would see her back to Redhill personally if Avery asked, though he suspected they would do so even without the asking.

“Await your orders in Lady Veora’s cabin.” Nuri finally spoke up, with clear finality, dismissing both ladies as he stood up.

He was tired, and annoyed, and a bit bitter about how his husband was taking this to reflect so poorly on him. Because that is exactly what was being implied here, that Nyme’s behavior reflected on him. And while it was true, it hadn't been an issue before and had very poor timing to start being one.

Nuri was tired of having to feel guilty about his homeland, or that he felt guilty at all.

They wasted no time in curtsying out of the room.

He waited until the door was firmly shut before carefully approaching his husband, turning him by the shoulder gently to face him. Deciding to, instead of butt heads, attempt to reason with him. They needed to be a united front when they reached Delphi. Nuri wasn't sure how he was going to manage if he was fighting both his family in Delphi and his own husband at the same time.

“I like to think I know you a little by now, and despite how she might pretend Lady Nyme is no fool. Well, not in that way at least. I hardly think you're so angry because there was any danger in her traveling here in secret or that your authority is so spurned. Besides, it was Lady Roysa who decided which of the ladies were to go anyway, not you. If my memory serves me correctly…” Nuri left the rest of his statement open-ended, searching his husband's face for honest answers.

“So I can count you among those who assume my aunt makes my choices for me,” Avery said bitterly.

That burned, and Nuri removed his hand. That hadn't been what he'd meant at all.

“Your memory serves you falsely- She suggested, and I agreed. She often suggests things I am prone to agree to, as a result of knowing me so well,” he said. “I assure you- She is not always right in her estimation, and I have no hesitation in telling her so.”

“Well then, your majesty, I suppose I can’t deter you from seething over imagined slights, let me not keep you.” Nuri backed away and bowed, as though he were just another Belethan noble, leaving his husband to… do whatever it is he wanted he supposed.

“Wait,” Avery said, once again amazed at his own ability to sabotage himself- Especially where Nuri was concerned. “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely, reaching out and placing his hand on Nuri’s shoulder.

“I’m not your enemy. I'm your husband.” Nuri sighed, trying again for emotional support, hand on the door, still prepared to leave if spurned again.

“I know,” Avery said. “It’s not you I’m angry at- It’s not even Lady Nyme,” he continued, then paused. “Well- All right, I am angry at Lady Nyme,” he admitted. “But I’m mostly angry at myself. I just feel so out of element with all of this, and I’m not very prepared to deal with… Unexpected changes before we’ve even left.”

“People only seem to remember I am a king when I am angry,” he said with obvious frustration. “It is not a huge surprise, in courtiers who have known me since I was only the Crown Prince’s odd little brother, but I had hoped it might be different with people who have only even known me as a king. It does not bode well for my chances to reach a satisfactory resolution with your sister.”

If a lady in waiting who Avery fed and housed placed so little value on his words, he did not imagine her queen would hear them favorably.

His father had rarely doubted the obedience of any of his subjects, because he had made sure to demonstrate his power in ways that made them fear its retribution. Avery hated the moments when he was forced to consider that his father’s methods may have been right.

Nuri turned and gripped Avery’s collar instead of the door.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better. Keeping nobles in line is a game that will never end apparently, if my mother is to be believed. But there is a way to do it, and you do not have so many things standing in your way as to make the task impossible.” Nuri wondered if the irony in his voice could be detected at the quiet tone he spoke it in.

It did not make Avery feel better- But Nuri’s returned attention to him did, a bit.

“And I do not think any other noble would have acted that way. Lady Nyme is a former Lady in Waiting. She and my sister's other ladies are used to far more freedoms and authority than they've had in Beleth thus far. I’ll speak to them and remind them things are not the same anymore. They should mind how they reflect on me anyway. As for the rest, you certainly don’t need to bare that burden alone… I’m already exhausted just thinking of it. But I think we both might just be tired from all that parading too. It'll work out. We’ll find a way.” They had to. There wasn't really a choice, he thought as he dragged his husband's collar down till he could reach his lips.

Avery went willingly, smiling into the soft kiss. He pulled Nuri’s free hand towards his mouth, and pressed in gently on the pulse beneath his palm.

“Yes, all that waving must have truly tired your poor wrists, it’s a wonder your hands haven’t fallen off,” he said with a tone of affectionate mockery. He kept his eyes closed and his lips to Nuri’s skin a few seconds longer, before releasing his husband’s hand and sighing.

“You want her to stay,” he said, a questioning guess.

“She might as well if she's already in trouble,” Nuri pointed out, “But I’ll support you if you decide she must go.” He smiled reassuringly, eyelashes still fluttering and lips still tingling.

Nuri did this sometimes, Avery was beginning to notice. Said one thing, but promised he would be fine with the other. Avery wasn’t sure he always meant it. Nuri knew he could disagree with him, Avery told himself. What to have for dinner, what order to take their meetings in, if that teal waistcoat actually looked good on Avery or not. But about something big like this- Avery was having difficulty remembering a time that Nuri had suggested an alternative and Avery had agreed to it.

He considered for a moment- Did it really matter if Lady Nyme came with them? Now that she was with the royal party and their guards, the risk to her safety was much decreased. Her flagrant disrespect for his decisions still stung, but if he sent her back now, there would be questions about where she had been. Having burned any remaining benevolent feelings she might have towards him, she would have no reason not to tell the courtiers at Redhill just how little she respected their king.

Of course, Lady Nyme’s presence at Redhill would have hopefully encouraged her sister and her queen to be cooperative…. But conversely, Lady Nyme’s presence at Delphi might do the same. Queen Meera might be glad to see her, and see that Avery and Nuri had no wish to create tension in the relationship. Her effusive nature and honesty might counter Lady Veora’s more tempered personality- The Theren nobles might interpret anything Veora tells them of life in Beleth as measured diplomacy, but would believe Nyme that she was treated well when she simultaneously complained of the weather, the fashion, and the inconvenience of needing guards to go to market.

Avery kissed Nuri’s forehead, having made his decision.

“If she will be helpful to you,” he said. “Then she will join us.”

The truth was, she wouldn't necessarily, Nuri could get about as much use out of her as he might Veora. But Nyme genuinely owing him a favor did seem appealing. Even if he only ever pressed the matter because Avery seemed overly harsh over something so little.

He mouthed a ‘thank you’ nevertheless. It was better to be thankful when shows of thoughtfulness were given than not.

And the truth was, Nuri more and more found himself living for and soaking up any of these shows of thoughtfulness, like a greedy little weed who just couldn't get enough. It was disgusting as much as it was unavoidable, and never failed to make him flush.

Avery opened the door and Officer Newport snapped to attention.

“I apologize for the back and forth,” Avery told him. “But please fetch Lady Nyme again.”

Newport looked like he would rather not, but saluted and was off.

code by @fudgecakez

 

[The Witch Son]

The Royal Party Arrives in Theren
To An Interesting Welcome

Theren Court is Not For The Faint of Heart

Their travel through the port, and through the city of Delphi went far quicker than their travel to Jamatal. Their escort had sent word ahead of them and crowds were kept away; it appeared they were the last to arrive, given the array of nobles present at their arrival on the large white steps of the castle. Every House appeared to be present except Megara, and neither was the Queen Meera herself present.

Nyme observed keenly that the city’s inhabitants were no longer so thin looking, but that the shops did not look well stocked still. The entire city was sluggish, feeling the effects of the lack of import still.

In contrast the nobles had changed drastically, in her opinion. Something strange that she did not understand was going on. Nearly all the men had their long locks of hair cut short, and there were several women wearing strings of pearls fashioned into a knot that resembled a noose.

As for her own clothes, she’d changed into the Theren fashion, while Veora had kept the Belethan manner of dress. Something about showing up in Delphi while dressed as a Belethan gave her unrest, and besides, the climate was much milder here.

And if it were her own underhanded silent way of showing support for Theren in front of King Avery. Well, that was her business wasn't it?

In the Queen’s stead, The Dowager Queen Agora stood to greet them, she met them halfway down the steps and held out her arms to embrace her son, right in front of everyone! Loudly exclaiming that she had missed her darling boy.

Nyme’s eyes widened at this, and she glanced at Veora, who glanced back, equally as shocked.

There had to be only two possible reasons for this undignified manner of greeting her son, who had returned from another Kingdom after marrying to broker peace; if the Dowager Queen were genuinely overcome with emotion, which would no doubt be her claim, or if she were intentionally undermining him as a foreign dignitary and fully grown married man.

Neither sister was naive enough to believe this was anything but calculated courtly arithmetic. The Queen of political intrigue herself would never be so frivolous.

The sense that things were precariously dangerous came creeping up Nyme’s neck for the second time. Being gone from Theren court for so short a period was an unforgiving thing. Just like when they were brand new at fourteen and had barely arrived, things were happening before their eyes that they had little understanding and sway over.

Prince Nuri stiffly accepted her embrace and the party continued up the steps, into the interior of Album Castellum.

Emerson- and probably everyone else- couldn’t help but notice that she had failed to use Prince Nuri’s titles when greeting him, and had neglected to greet any of the other members of the party. Such as her daughter’s friends, or her Lord Chancellor, or perhaps most significantly, the foreign king she owed allegiance to.

For his part, King Averett showed no reaction to the slight, only smiling at his mother-in-law and giving her a slight nod, as though her welcome was both expected and appropriate. In all honesty, Emerson wasn’t sure if he had even noticed the insult- Knowing Avery it might have gone completely over his head, and he was merely glad that Nuri had received a warm welcome.

Emerson had gotten to partake in one of his favorite duties as Avery’s surrogate brother figure on the voyage to Delphi, which was to try to pester and shock his King into breaking his composure of diplomatic neutrality. They’d started it back when Avery had been a prince, seen by his generals as an inexperienced liability who they were entertaining for the sake of his father, and Emerson had found that giving Avery a chance to blunder through vocalizing his thoughts the first time around made the second time go much smoother.

Of course, Emerson was much better at impersonating one of Beleth’s military officers than a Theren noble, but luckily Prince Nuri had been giving Avery pointers in that department. Emerson had tried to pick up on those, which was a bit tricky due to the Prince’s… less than warm feelings toward Emerson.

Not that Emerson blamed him- He himself would have preferred to avoid the Prince as well, but that didn’t seem to be either of their lots in life. But he had absorbed plenty, listening to Lady Veora answer Lord Brennan’s endless questions. Lady Nyme had had some good insights as well, much as it annoyed him. He still couldn’t believe she’d been so stupidly reckless, pulling that stunt.

It was probably a good thing that Lord Brennan had committed himself to memorizing the family tree, common industries, interests and conversational non-starters of every Theren noble, or dinners on the Arrow might have been awkward indeed. Between Lady Nyme and himself, they could usually carry a conversation with a dead man for several hours before the unfortunate fellow realized he’d expired- But Emerson had struggled to enjoy her company, and hadn’t made much effort either.

He took his eyes off the royals in front of him to glance at the sisters- They seemed comfortable and pleased to see their old home, though Emerson suspected he did not know them well enough to decipher if that was truly the case or only appeared so. In a situation like this, everyone had their walls up, and several layers of walls to boot.

The walls of the castle were smooth and white, and as the other nobles followed them inside, Emerson focused on the architectural details instead of the feeling of being trapped. It was beautiful he could admit, and he could hear a quiet conversation between Avery and Nuri about some of the more distinct features.

“I should have thought to warn you,” Emerson told Cromwell wryly, “That any passage with an intriguingly carved arch may take longer to pass through.”

Cromwell, like Nyme, had taken notice of the… social changes that had occurred, but unlike Nyme had not been surprised. As he'd been informed of all this by his understudy and secretary when it first started happening. Seeing it in person was a tad jarring however. All of them lined up like that, as more than half, being on the Dowager Queen’s side was worrying.

He didn't want to have to make an enemy of her, as she'd be an enemy that could be his undoing, but he couldn't allow her to continue wielding influence like this if she was going to use it to undermine the current reigning Queen’s commitment to peace. A peace he worked tirelessly for as well.

Court antics were one thing, war was another.

“A king should have fine taste. Ironically, a thing he shares with our soon to be King, Basilius of House Megara. Their carvings are murals fashioned into the wood over there. I've never seen anything like it.” He rambled off quietly, zeroing in on the Dowager Queen’s face, attempting to read her lips as she spoke to King Avery.

But she was turned just so as to make it impossible except for a few words, ‘best’ and ‘you’. The spirits know if she was being vicious or hiding her fangs for later. King Avery was blushing, his ears red, so it could be the former.

A few lines of people ahead, Nuri pulled his husband along. “No Queen Mother, we didn't bring any of his carvings with us, now let us stop holding up the procession. I'm eager to see her grace after so long.”

“Pitty.” Was all Agora deigned to say, turning away, taking note that her son must have grown in maturity if he was no longer petty enough to do something like stoop to her level and address her as she addressed him in front of an official procession.

Either that or he'd become cowardly and forgotten how to bite.

She hoped it wasn't the later.

The long hall opened up into a vast room with rows of columns that the nobility behind them dispersed themselves between, some leaving through other archways and some formed cliques. No doubt to wait until the royals left the throne room after their first meeting. Nosy as they naturally were.

The daughters of Corinth broke away from the procession as two of Queen Meera’s ladies approached the back of the party and offered to show the Lords where their accommodations would be. Lady Veora assured Lord Brennan he was in good hands, and that she'd check in on him later once given time to settle.

The House of Corinth’s heads eagerly awaited the company of their two most prized jewels on the far side of the room.

Cromwell followed the royals into the tall double doors, sped up past the procession towards his monarch to kneel and kiss her ring as was necessary for a returning noble of Theren who worked for the crown, before whispering something to her as he stood up. She nodded and Cromwell was off again at his quick pace, disappearing seemingly into the wall behind a tapestry that hung behind her throne.

“Your Majesties have graced us with your attendance, you've made it just in time! Thank you for making the journey. It means so much to me to have my family here with me on this joyous day.”

And there she was, in all her dazzling glory, standing a few feet in front of her throne instead of sitting in it. Nuri had no doubt this was a conscious choice on her part.

It hadn't been that long since he'd last seen her, but already Nuri had forgotten how much she lit up a room, and why exactly it was that people fell over themselves in adoration of her. She, in all her splendor, was Theren’s warm sun, and her smiles were worth dying for.

Too bad Nuri had to be her dark shadow, refusing to let that be the price.

But oh how he still loved her all the same, the painful tension and ache in his chest was proof enough of that.

He thought he might be angrier when he saw her, his mother had certainly been deliberately ribbing him since the moment she saw him. What with the stunt she pulled in front of everyone on the steps, and again when his husband complimented the architecture of Album Castellum:

“We do house the best of the best of artists Theren has to offer in Delphi, we are patrons of the arts here at court. But I have it on good authority that you, your Grace, are a bit of an artist yourself. You make charming little wood carvings? I would adore seeing-”

Nuri had to cut her off there, his husband was likely too dense to understand when he was being made fun of in such an underhanded way, but Nuri wasn't going to let it continue unchecked in front of him.

Strangely enough though, that'd all melted away when he saw his sister. Whom he wanted nothing more than to embrace freely. What a ridiculous thing to even consider in a formal welcome procession.

The Dowager Queen might wish to push at the boundaries of propriety, but Avery had no interest in playing that game.

He bowed deeply to his sister-in-law in the Theren style- Perhaps not the level of genuflection Cromwell had shown, but certainly with more respect than his father had ever shown to another sovereign.

“It is our honour and pleasure to celebrate this occasion with you, Queen Meera,” he said after straightening. His words were formal and pronounced as though he were speaking to a crowd instead of just a few, but he paired them with a genuine smile.

The bow was both too deep and unexpected by the queen but she returned it happily. Recalling that there was a time when they might have been married for the peace between their Kingdoms. Though those discussions were past a year's time and through his elder brother, it was clear that King Avery shared that wish still.

“Our Kingdom's did not achieve peace the way we initially set out to do King Averette. But we do have it now, however much it may have cost, and Theren remains committed to it. You are welcome to every comfort while in Album Castellum. Should you have need of anything, everyone in this castle is at your behest.”

Meera turned to her mother, “The Dowager Queen will show you to your arrangements, and make sure to fetch you once the festivities begin tonight. At dawn the ceremony will take place. I recommend you rest up for it, we are known for having lively festivities here, and the journey must have been tiring. I myself am going to rest and prepare.”

“Of course,” Avery said, nodding his head in recognition of the dismissal. He was a bit surprised that this formal introduction had not included any exchange between siblings, but kept it from his face. “We do not wish to be an imposition during such a busy time, and would be glad of the chance to rest ourselves. We look forward to speaking with you further at a later time. Many congratulations,” he finished.

The siblings very carefully did not look at each other as Meera kept to Avery's side and steered them out, back into the wide expanse of the tall ivory columns of the room of gathering.

Somehow, in the short time they had been in the throne room, the room had gained a gathering of not just nobles of the great houses, but their bannermen as well. Bannermen who could not represent the regions during the procession, but were free to catch a glimpse afterward.

Conscious that they were being observed, Nuri linked arms with his husband and did his utmost to seem indifferent to this scrutiny. Which more or less just made him appear like he was scowling. Avery attempted to offer a slight smile and nod to those he caught looking at him, but few held his eye long enough to do so.

People, while observing the respect due to their Queen by gladly bowing and making room for her path, were really here to gawk at the visiting King and their former Prince. Nobles were naturally a very nosy group of people. They delighted in looking and whispering and looking and whispering and…

Nuri thought he glanced someone he hadn't expected to see, but they passed by too quick for Nuri to see out of his periphery. And he simply couldn't risk appearing to be looking in the crowd at anyone in particular.

“You'll have to forgive them King Averett, they're eager to see if the rumors about you had been true after all.” Meera held back a laugh once they passed through into a corridor leading to the south wing.

“Ridiculous as most of them were, I'm sure at least some of them thought one or two of the characteristics you were described to have must hold some truth. Only to find out you are a handsome young King in his prime. They must all be heavily disappointed that you don't at least have an eye patch or peg-leg.”

“I could attempt to affect a hunchback,” Avery said, dry but amused. “But I fear I would not be able to keep it up for long.”

Nuri was of the opinion that it was far funnier to let them gawk at the truth, especially since he knew who they were comparing his husband to behind his back. Let them whisper it behind his back because if he caught wind of it in front of him he was going to cut out a tongue or two.

“Ah, here is where I must leave you.” They came to the end of the corridor, where a fork now would take Meera up stairs and the Beleth royals down aways where it opened up into a balcony hall. Which surveyed the courtyard’s winding maze of a garden from above.

Only those of the royal family and their guard were permitted through these particular halls, which the royal family used to their advantage. Spotting secret liaisons and surveying the tittering between the bushes had served many a ruler advantageously.

“This way, your majesties.” Agora, who had quietly observed that her son was quiet, retook control of directing the pair.

“The House of Corinth is happy to see their daughters back. Good, clever sort of girls they always were. Always so loyal.”

“They're happy to see their parents as well I'm sure.” Nuri answered back automatically, still thinking of what he would even say to his sister if he could right now and coming up blank. Which is a ridiculous predicament to be in after all that time spent preparing his wrathful lecture.

“I wonder why it is then, that The House of Argos must go without seeing their own daughter? Little Lady Mercidea is not ill is she?”

“She is, we thought it best that she stay behind to recuperate. It is nothing serious, but sea travel is bad for recovery.” Nuri snapped to attention and answered before his husband could say anything that might give the dowager queen any actual reason to be cross with him.

“What terrible timing, send her our well wishes.”

“Of course.” This entire wedding had terrible timing, but Nuri chose to continue to keep the peace.

“Have you been well? You're past the mourning stage by now I see.” She was no longer wearing a black veil.

“Sooner than I would have liked, I was going to take the full two years, but the mother of a Queen, soon to be a wife, shrouded in a mourning veil at her wedding ceremony seemed…” She answered truthfully.

Ever the dutiful Queen, now Dowager, of course she would put the practical over her own needs. “Dour.”

“Just so.” Especially with the reason for her mourning in the first place married to the Queen's brother. Her pride would not suffer it.

“She's looking positively radiant.” Nuri noted in a way that distinctly did not sound like a compliment, unsure where the sudden need to bitterly voice that came from.

“She has always been radiant, as your grace is well aware, having grown up with her.” Agora deflected nonchalantly, wondering for a moment if her son had somehow developed the ability to hear thoughts.

“No, not quite like that… I take it she's off to see Basilius?” He needled further.

“Lord Basilius, Nuri, he's Lord Basilius. Soon to be King.” She clipped back, she couldn't have him slipping up like that in front of the nobility.

”Your grace, or your majesty, is my proper title.”

“So it is.”

The uncomfortable tension of the conversation would have been obvious even to Avery even if he hadn’t been paying attention.

“I couldn't help but notice you've been hiding him from me. What's the matter? Afraid of what I might do to him? Or is he afraid? It'd be unsurprising if that were true, after all this entire farce allows him to take a title he most certainly has not earned or proven himself worthy of. It's a no wonder you had to cut your own mourning period short to ensure the event-”

“Your Grace is also my proper title.” Agora didn't really care a fig about that, but it was a good way to cut him off, and it worked, his jaw audibly clicked shut. Spirits help her, he got especially petty when he was angry.

Avery was becoming more alarmed with the direction the conversation had taken, and had no idea how to steer it back towards safer grounds.

“Your Majesty,” he said to Nuri, placing his hand on the one his husband had looped through his other arm. He usually called Nuri ‘My Prince’ if speaking to him directly in front of others, but he thought the Dowager Queen might benefit from the reminder that her son outranked her now. “Perhaps we would be better served by conversing with Lord Basilius directly,” he suggested.

“How exactly are we to converse with that eunuch if he's hiding?” Nuri pointedly asked.

“If he were a eunuch I hardly think we would be having this discussion right now.” Agora pointed out, rejoicing that, finally, the doors to their arrangements were in sight.

“No no mother, you misunderstand me, I mean to make him a eunuch the minute I see him.”

Agora gave a tired sigh, stopping in front of the guarded doors of their apartments. “There, and now you know why it is Meera saw fit to hide him from you.” They had arrived at both the answer and the destination.

“I'm shocked you didn't think to do the same, the indignity of it, father wouldn't have allowed-”

“You'd be shocked, Nuri, at what it is your father allowed in his time! I know you think him perfect, but he was not, and neither am I.” Agora loudly and clearly cut him off, at the end of her patience, and frankly, a little hurt.

“So let us all at least pretend that we are, for the sake of both our thrones, and wait to tear into this problem till after the wedding ceremony. That way the nobility may all be sufficiently drunk and unable to remember if we smiled at each other or not.” Agora tried for a compromise.

Avery bit back his reply that Agora seemed to think she had already solved the problem if the wedding was to take place, and followed Nuri through the doors the guards had opened.

“Your Grace,” Avery said to Agora as the doors closed behind them. “You will use his titles when addressing my husband. Do not make me ask again,” he warned.

The sound of the double doors shutting reverberated in the wide but narrow sitting lounge. Nuri eyed his husband for a moment with an unreadable look, trying to decide if he should tell him or not that his mother was making amusement at his expense the entire time.

Better not.

“I don't think I’ve ever been in these rooms, I wonder why they didn't just put us in my old ones.” What it lacked in girth it made up for in height, rows of books stacked nearly to the ceiling. It was a pitty that all those transcribers who had worked tirelessly to copy these books had done it all for nothing. These books, though kept clean of dust, rarely had anyone to open them. Agora always preferred the rooms next to her own apartment empty, and so they were sparingly used.

Nuri frowned suddenly, “I just had an awful thought, they probably put that dog Basilius in them.”

He scoffed and let Avery's arm drop to check the rest of their arrangement, the sitting room opened up into a party room, where dining table, yet more seats to the side, a harp, and art decorated the room. Marble statues depicting past Kings and other figures of legend lined here and there. From there two more doors were before them, one was to the balcony outside overlooking the view of the ocean, and the other was to a bedroom. Where a large marble tub allowed for bathing.

Avery assessed the apartment, his eyes moving quickly away from the carved figurines. He unbuttoned and began to remove his overcoat as he went, already too warm in the milder climate.

“You seem-”

Avery struggled to articulate his thoughts in a way he hoped might not offend his husband.

“Quite determined to dislike him,” he finished a beat later. In prior discussions, Avery had thought they’d been open to a variety of possibilities- That Basilius or Agora was behind this plan and manipulating Meera, that Meera herself was the instigator, that there might be other people involved even....

Avery wondered if there had been some subtle indication that he had missed but his husband had picked up on, or if once seeing his family face-to-face Nuri was simply having difficulty imagining they would so intentionally try to undermine him.

“Do we need to worry your mother might take to frisking you for knives,” he asked, trying to lighten the situation.

“I thought at LEAST he'd have the guts to face us. You know, before I rip them out for impregnating the one Queen in all the land tasked very specifically with not producing heirs.” Nuri had discarded his doublet on the bed, rounding the corner and taking his husband's from him.

“If he's so delicate I wonder why they would make him King at all.” He rolled his eyes and tossed the doublet on his own before approaching the lever that filled the tub.

“I feel the need for a swim, care to join me? It'll cool you off.”

Avery watched with interest as the large basin began to fill, the water streaming down from somewhere above.

It was really quite ingenious, he thought, and much more efficient than waiting as a servant dumped bucket after bucket of hot water in the tub, pulled up from the depths of the mountain by the pulleys running through Redhill. Though he supposed servants here had to refill whatever source this water came from... Unless they had a cistern for rainwater somewhere up above that was being filtered down and- Avery cut off his wandering thoughts and reminded himself to pay attention.

“Uh- Sure, that would be nice,” he told Nuri, though he thought Nuri might be in more need of cooling off than himself. He had never seen his husband so hot-tempered before, and Avery wasn’t sure what to make of it. It unsettled him a bit, and made him eager to comply with Nuri’s suggestion in the hopes that the other man might calm down a bit.

He eyed the water warily, already regretting what he had agreed to. It wasn’t like Nuri had never seen him undressed, but such instances were usually brief and occasionally included a team of servants hurriedly changing their outfits. Nor did he generally give Nuri such a prolonged chance to ogle at his scars… But he’d already said yes, and he had suspected that Nuri was concerned about how Avery might handle their cultural differences- So while Nuri was preoccupied with some cabinet on the far side of the room, Avery stripped off the rest of his clothes, untied his hair, and waded into the rising water.

He stood directly under the stream of water for a few moments, letting it thunder down around him and soak his hair. It reminded him a bit of the ramshackle bathhouses in Allaria, where he and Emerson would spend their halfcoins for the privilege of pulling the string on a pail of water mounted above them in the wall. This water however, was of a much better temperature, and he didn’t have to worry he had tilted the pail too far and lost the water over its slotted half lid before he was done.

All in all, it was a much better experience, though the roar of the water was a bit too loud, and he stepped out of it after a moment.

“You think he knew about the agreement she had made with you?,” he asked, trying not to feel self conscious.

Nuri, having already dressed into the thin, white, sleeveless bathing robe used for purposes of modesty, eyed Avery in surprise as he walked over. Surprise quickly turned into an appreciative smirk as he made his way up the steps and stood on the edge, enjoying the view from up high.

“Well I was going to give you this, but maybe you aren't in need of it after all?” Nuri dangled his husband's robe over the edge.

Avery turned to see what his husband was holding, and promptly turned bright red. Compared to his earlier flush at the Dowager Queen’s teasing that had been confined to his ears, this blush spread across the entirety of his body.

“All right, give me that,” Avery said, reaching for the robe with a bashful laugh. Embarrassed as he was, he could tell that Nuri’s amusement may have been at his expense but wasn’t a mockery.

Nuri plucked it out of his reach and walked away, “If I were smart I wouldn't have told you about these at all! Too bad I’m the generous sort.” He said as he plopped into the water, not caring if some water splashed out onto the floor and getting the robe all wet.

“It is much appreciated,” Avery allowed. “Gods only know what sort of embarrassment I may have gotten myself into otherwise.” Admittedly, he would have refused the invitation to swim had anyone else been present in the room, but still.

“Here stretch out your arms, I’ll help you tie it.” His husband was going to have to forgive him for being a little selfish and indulge his desire to dress him.

Avery’s movement to take the robe was aborted and his hand stayed stretched out awkwardly in the air for a moment longer before he complied with Nuri’s instruction. It seemed to Avery that the flush on his chest somehow gave off more heat along the spots where Nuri’s hands lingered against it, and Avery hoped it was not as noticeable as it felt.

“I don't know what he knows, but for his own sake Basilius had better be a clueless idiot. I find that far more forgivable. Especially considering he'll be King.” Nuri noted.

Avery nodded absently, but he wasn’t sure he agreed. “If he is an intentionally malicious actor, though, we might have more luck with your mother,” he said. She would no doubt be angry that some man was trying to undermine her daughter’s authority, though she’d given very little of her thoughts away in their brief exchanges. “I would much prefer her as an ally than an enemy,” he admitted, then sighed. “Unlikely as that is to happen.”

He had a feeling the Dowager Queen would rather cut out her own tongue than align herself with him, no matter the circumstances. If they returned to Redhill and had managed not to make her hate him even more than she already did, he would consider it a divine blessing and ask nothing else of the Goddess for the remainder of the year.

“No, it wouldn't make sense for her to throw her support behind them if he were working against her. That public display of undermining me in front of every single great house in Theren was a statement. She did it on purpose. She does everything on purpose.” The fabric stuck to Avery's wet skin, and the robe wasn't meant to perfectly stay in place, it was supposed to be easy to slip on and off. So when Nuri straightened the fabric around his collar he did so for ulterior purposes. Perhaps the wet skin in general had something to do with it.

“And another thing… The men and women are wearing a public display of… I don't know, but the pearl necklace fashioned into a noose and short hair isn't nothing. It's very clearly something. And we should find out sooner than later what that is and whether it works against us. Especially since my mother was wearing a string of Pearls the same way.” He smoothed the front down and finally found it in him to stop fondling his husband secretly like some sort of disgusting obsessed fool.

The fact that his mother was wearing the noose of pearls too meant that it was bad for them, but maybe they would luck out and it would just be a shift in fashion. Theren was funny like that, one year they had all worn feathers in their hair.

Nuri leaned back and let himself dip under the water, resurfacing only as a bobbing head.

“Could be just a trend,” Avery suggested, with the bleak optimism of someone who knew he was likely wrong. He hadn’t noticed it of course, but he trusted Nuri knew what was out of place and what wasn’t when it came to Theren fashion.

“You still sure you want to join me for… The harsher conversations,” Avery asked hesitantly. Nuri was of the opinion that Avery shouldn’t try to negotiate with Queen Meera or her mother alone, but Avery was hoping that Nuri might be able to salvage his own relationship with his family by distancing himself a bit from his husband in their tactics, and offering opportunities in contrast to Avery’s threats.

Selfishly, Avery would also prefer that Nuri wasn’t witness to those threats.

“You're the King of Beleth, you're well within your rights to have this meeting yourself.” Nuri pointed out. “But I think I can only be a help in ensuring they understand the full ramifications of their actions.” He didn't want his mother snaking around Avery without him knowing any better. He wasn't raised by her, he didn't know her tricks.

“Tomorrow? Over breakfast?” Everyone else in the castle would be asleep, passed out from the festivities of the last night.

Avery wrinkled his nose in distaste at the idea. “I think that might feel like an ambush,” he pointed out. Cutting short someone’s wedding night with bad news was not a way to earn their favor. “And I’m not sure we’ll be up for it, either. I hear Album Castellum throws quite the party after all,” he said with a speculative raise of one eyebrow.

He wasn’t exactly planning on throwing decorum out the window for the evening, but he thought he would have an easier time at the ceremony if he wasn’t dreading the morning after.

“But- By noon tomorrow, I think we should have a time to meet with them arranged,” he suggested. He had a vain hope that Queen Meera and Lord Basilius- King Basilius, soon enough- would issue he and Nuri an invitation to discuss the affairs of their two countries in private, but it did not seem wise to count on Queen Meera acting on advice Lady Roysa would have had him follow.

“Well I wouldn't deny my husband and King his fun.” Nuri smiled ruefully, “But don't let them put it off too long, they'd probably avoid the matter entirely if you let them.”

Avery crossed to the far side of the tub to pull the lever and halt the stream of water from above before sitting down on the stone bench across from Nuri’s.

“Well, that would be unwise of them,” Avery said. “I have many other meetings I can fill my day with instead- Two commanders, several lieutenant generals, a dozen assorted captains,” he listed.

None of the Belethan military officers had been inside Album Castellum as far as he knew- They communicated with their Theren counterparts outside the palace walls, and communicated with the Theren royals through those counterparts.

“If your sister will not hold a spot on my schedule, I may even have to tour the ranks,” he said idly. The troops would love it- A personal visit from their King. It would certainly renew their dedication to their cause.

Nuri snaked up to Avery's side to sling an arm over his shoulder and steal a kiss. It gave him a rush when his husband exercised good political strategy. Strong moves like this weren't just good for the Kingdom, but for generating a tingling sensation within him that had to be satisfied in some way, preferably by touching Avery in some small way.

It was becoming a nasty habit, he realized before cupping the King's jaw.

“How clever of you, I’m lucky my husband is a responsible and sensible one. Always ready with a way to work things out to an advantage.” Nuri said before turning his chin and stealing another kiss, he just couldn't help it. Especially when he had that well trimmed winter beard grown out like that.

His husband would have to forgive him for running his fingers through it and getting carried away...

code by @fudgecakez

 

[jones573]

Album Castellum, Delphi



That Evening.... And Into The Morn

A Long Night and A Royal Wedding

“Really Cassandra, I don’t know why dear aunt doesn’t just send you to Beleth, there’s a much wider variety of eligible men to choose from there than here. Of better prospects than a lesser house to be sure.” She whispered that last part to emphasize the delightful embarrassment of her cousin. Taking a sip of wine from her goblet and squinting at her condescendingly over it.

Cassandra, who sneered in response, “I think I’d be better off with a stable boy than some man from Beleth, what use is a husband in a foreign land at odds with my home no matter the supposed title? What was it your prospect was again?”

“Duke, dear cousin, he’s to inherit a Duchy, which is basically the same as being a Lord.” Nyme clarified, waving a hand.

“And how many houses answer to a Duke?” Cassandra kept the smile from her lips, laying her trap.

“...Around two or three.” Nyme realized her mistake as she answered, Lords in Theren had no less than five and as much as ten lesser houses who answered to them.

“Right… just like a Lord.” The trap closed shut, and Cassandra’s victorious tinkling laugh fell forth.

“And how many houses would answer to your husband? Oh that’s right, none.” Nyme hit back, causing that victorious little laugh to die off.

“But really Nyme, in all seriousness, the match mother has made for me is stable and fortuitous. He’s well off, honorable, he respects me and will provide for me while strengthening the bonds in the region of our home. My husband will never be unwelcome wherever we go in Theren and I will not be far from our family. Don’t be a fool just because we are in competition with one another, go to your parents and demand a match from here. Any great house would have you as a daughter in law quicker than your mother could send the letters.” Cassandra in truth regretted entering into this bet if this was the outcome. Yes, it was a bit bitter that technically speaking she would be losing, but that detail paled in comparison to the wildly reckless actions Nyme was taking. This was no longer the enthralling competition of a Lady’s wit, will power, and resourcefulness they had imagined when first entering into it. Her cousin had gone too far. It was a shockingly bold and a smart move to trip her up, at first, but now that she’d come back from Beleth it was time she came to her better senses.

Veora she could understand needing to leave Theren, all appropriate matches that would suit her well had already been refused, and no house wanted a daughter in law that was known to be reluctant to perform her most basic duties. The House of Corinth’s perfect daughter had ruined her chances in Theren, so it made sense to send her to a different court where she might try to amend her fate and marry with some dignity despite the potential future costs. For Nyme though, whose allurments were of an entirely different sort but no less sought after, it seemed cruel and unusual. Worse, it was dangerous. What would she do when Theren and Beleth went to war again? What would happen to her? Cassandra had already resigned herself to the possibility of losing all contact with one cousin, but both? She couldn’t wrap her head around what her aunt and uncle were thinking!

Nyme studied her cousin’s beautiful face, usually so much like her mother in that dignified tilt of her pointed chin, now suddenly so sincere and worried, even frightened. It was unnerving, because why in the world would Cassandra be so afraid of what basically amounted to distance?

“Oh come now Cassandra,” She scoffed, “Don’t get boring and sentimental on me, I’m going to be a Duchess I’m not marching off to my death. It’ll be far but I-” Orange copper hair, a colour that belonged to no one who had a title in Theren, caught her eye, and she lost her train of thought.

“One moment…” She darted out after him, weaving through people, determined not to let his behavior go on any farther now that they were in Theren.

“Lord Emerson! Just a moment Lady Seneca, I’m very cross with Lord Emerson at the moment he’s been neglecting his friends.” She said once she caught up with him enough to loop her arm around his free arm and pull him away so they might talk.

“I do apologize, Lady Seneca,” Emerson told the lady in question with a smile and a slight bow of his head. “I’ve already taken up so much of your time pestering you about Theren fashion- I would certainly not want anyone to think I’m shirking my duty to Lady Nyme! I hope you’ll indulge me with more of your company at a later time,” he told Seneca with another smile, before allowing Nyme to pull him away.

“There we are.” Now that she has him tucked away into a corner of flowered garland she could speak to him frankly.

“I’ve let you be absolutely atrocious to me the entire length of travel here, which I have taken in good humor if I do say so myself, but really isn’t justified. So I do expect an apology before I graciously forgive you.” She waved her hand this way and that before settling it on her hip, not taking any of what had passed seriously or dwelling on it. Content to just let him brush it away like dust on the wind so they could return home in good spirits once this was all over.

“Ahh, I see,” Emerson said. His tone and his smile did not falter in the slightest, so his following words were mismatched with his demeanor. “The thing is, Lady Nyme, that sometimes actions have consequences. Unfortunately, losing my previously positive opinion of you is one of those consequences that Their Majesties cannot prevent.”

She scoffed, not quite understanding and still choosing to believe that he was only playing at being harsh, “I would've thought you of all people would've found my resourcefulness clever and witty and charming and all those things I get told I am on the daily. When did you become so boring and rigid? Are you telling me you would have abandoned your friend the King in his time of need? Is my disobeying an order not even expressly given really so vulgar?” She rolled her eyes. “You're turning into Lady Roysa.”

Emerson laughed brightly at that.

“Oh, she may even crack a recognizable smile at that,” he said with amusement. “I found your resourcefulness to be… Reckless. Stupid. And dangerous. I had assumed you to be rather smarter than that, and I am disappointed to find otherwise.”

He had abandoned his King in his time of need, he thought privately. Nothing so trivial as a moon wedding.

“I always think it's funny that men insist that the smartest course of action is whatever they would have preferred we women do.” Nyme became rigid and lowered her goblet thoughtfully, she'd heard that criticism repeated to her many times despite the relative falsity of it.

“I didn't think that was a flaw you possessed, even when you are inclined to lie about it. It wasn't dangerous at all, even the King knows that. Honestly you both act as though I've done something heinous, or rather you do, as the King has more or less let it go.”

But is was dangerous, in more ways than one. The fact that Nyme couldn’t even grasp the simplest of the risks she had taken was half the reason he was so frustrated with her.

Nyme wasn't really understanding what was going on here, and didn't really care so much about whatever was being hidden from her so much as she cared about that stinging feeling you get when you realize that someone you thought you were becoming good friends with can drop you quicker than a brass coin over nothing.

“It isn't even a good lie, which is a bit insulting really, no matter how stupid you apparently think I am now.” Her eyes flashed in displeasure.

“I do not think you stupid,” Emerson said with a sigh. Her recent choices certainly were, but she might still learn. She had to. “I think you are young, and have only known your home, where you are safe and loved. This is not inherently a fault in your character. But unfortunately, I have found it to be a fatal flaw where I am from.”

Emerson considered just how much he should tell Nyme- Both what was wise, considering the unsurety of her loyalty, and what was practical, considering the nature of their environment.

“I once failed to refill King Garrot’s wine cup during a private dinner,” he told her, leaning in as though they might be whispering conspiratorially about who their next dance partners would be. “He beat me- Claimed he would do so until my screams were loud enough to drown out Prince Elion’s protests. The prince stopped protesting,” he said simply. “The kitchens were forbidden from delivering me any food for a week. And the next day, the King sat in on his son’s session of petitioner’s court, and overruled the Prince’s judgements. Men lost their livelihood that day, their land, and even their lives.”

His face did fall into a slight frown for a half a moment at the memory, but he righted it after a pause.

The disturbed look on Nyme's face deepened the more Emerson explained the consequences of defiance in the court of two King’s passed. She'd heard the man was barbaric, they all had, but hearing intimate details from someone who had lived through it was quite something else.

“And you're trying to warn me that King Avery is going to behave the same? Is that it? I don't care even if he were exactly the same, I'd rather take the beating. Not that he'd give it, we all know he's not that monster.” She insisted.

“And how is it that you so sure of that,” he asked softly. “Because you’ve had dinner with him twice a week for a few months? You were willing to bet your safety on the estimation of a man you’ve never spoken to privately? Never seen angry?”

’Yes.’ Was Nyme's only thought, one she kept respectfully to herself.

“And not just your own safety, but your sister’s too,” he pressed on, looking across the room at Lady Veora with a smile and a nod. “You say you are willing to take a beating to be here today, are you willing to watch her receive one? And what of Lady Mercidae, who you left alone in a castle full of predators,” he hissed. “Even if you presume that Lady Roysa and the princess would never wish to harm her- How long do you think they can protect her against those who do?”

Their authority was derived from Avery’s after all, and Nyme had already demonstrated she had no issue undermining that. She was a fool to think that chipping away at the power of the family protecting her was a good idea, and naive if she imagined that no one else would ever find out.

Her eyes flickered where he directed, but her thoughts remained stubborn, any illusion of trust in what he said already gone the first time he'd fibbed to her. She instead focused on his little inconsistencies.

“Would it shock you if I told you my sister would tell you the same thing I would? Everyone always thinks she's so well behaved, but she is older than me and the burden of difficult to stomach tasks have often fallen on her shoulders. Mercy only stayed behind because she knew we were going, and she has loathsome parents she would rather avoid. Which is of course, all very irrelevant if staying in Beleth is apparently dangerous anyway. As the protections of the Lady Roysa and Princess Grace are simply insufficient…” She leveled him with a deadpan look.

“There is always danger in Beleth,” Emerson said with a shrug. The trick was in evaluating it, and it wasn’t a trick he felt she had mastered yet.

“I may not know your King as well as you do but I hardly think you would be half so fond of him if he were inclined to have noblewomen beaten for displeasing him. After all, Baroness Elleni is proof enough of that.” She said in a clipped tone. What with the way the Baroness got to act, if Veora’s account were to be believed, no one could think the King quick to be violent. Despite having started his reign with war.

“Smile, Lady Nyme,” he said wryly, the corners of his own mouth lifting up as he said so. “We are enjoying ourselves, after all. I will apologize only that I cannot give you the groveling you feel you so deserve- But if the worse that comes of this is that I will have a second chance to learn how clever you are, perhaps you may get it eventually,” he allowed.

The concession was more charitable and gracious than he really felt at the moment, but he was tired of wasting time listening to her entitled complaints. If she wished for him to have a good opinion of her, then he was doing her a favor- Every other time she’d opened her mouth, his opinion had fallen lower. “Can we get back to the festivities now? You really do know how to throw a party in Theren, and I would hate to miss out.”

“I’ll be sure to let Mercy know you were oh so concerned about her well being, she'll have a good laugh at that.” She frowned mockingly and backed away, switching to a narrowed eyed glare before turning her back and leaving.

She'd figured out enough to know there was something else going on, and Cromwell would be much more open with her than Emerson. Meanwhile she'd go ahead and let Lord Emerson find out that she, Veora, and Mercy were of the same mind when it came to people any one of them decided to give the cold shoulder to.

—--

Avery had yet to embarrass himself in the hours since the party had begun, but he knew that had nothing to do with him- It was the years of training in decorum from his aunt, the extensive review of Theren nobility Lady Veora had prepared, and of course, his husband’s help.

Nuri greeted them all by name, asked about their children and families by name, and once they had left, reminded Avery of their political importance, rivalries and alliances. Not that they had had much time for those hushed discussions before the next noble came along.

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised by their interest in him- Hating him and his country was no barrier in the very human inclination towards curiosity. The structure of these parties meant that the nobles in attendance were the first to meet him, and could be the first to report back to others on their measure of him. They could be the first to impress him if they were angling for a lucrative business relationship, or the first to snidely insult him if they wanted to curry favor with the Dowager Queen.

It was much like his own court's reaction to Nuri, he reasoned. They would put aside their own feelings towards his person if it meant they might advance their own goals. The Theren nobles were at least much more polite towards Nuri than their Beleth counterparts, and any veiled barbs- subtle or less so- were aimed mostly at Avery himself and not the nature of their relationship.

Though at their own wedding, they had enjoyed a place of honor and structured traditions that meant they could not be approached while dining at the high table or while dancing. They’d had servants to fetch them food and drink, and a secretary each to introduce their well-wishers and time their interactions, and firmly tell the Duke of Yetun that Their Majesties were greatly pleased to hear of his improved crop yields this season but they had many guests to attend to and would look forward to discuss this further with him…. At a later time.

“You’re sure I’m supposed to just eat these out of the shell,” Avery whispered to Nuri as they took advantage of a lull to eat, suspicious of the oysters. They had mollusks in Beleth, of course- Most commonly in a soup at Redhill, but sometimes served on their own in other regions. Deshelled and eaten with a fork in bite sized pieces. Even having watched several Theren nobles lift the shells to their mouths to eat, he still felt this might be an elaborate joke and they would turn to mock him if he did the same.

Nuri nodded and took an oyster, tapping the one Avery was holding with it like a wine goblet before swigging it back whole in one gulp.

“Like that dear, it’s perfectly safe I can assure you.” He hadn’t seen them served like this in Beleth, it must have looked odd to him. Nuri smiled amusedly at his husband, but not to make fun of him. He just couldn’t help but think his unsurety was cute, for lack of a better term. Everything from the way Avery shifted his shoulders in discomfort to the way he held his arm at his side was cute. Nuri very simply had a cute husband. And he was all his.

So that nasty Lady Feona had best keep her eyeballs in her head the next time she approached them or Nuri was going to scoop them out with a silver spoon.

Avery swallowed his down in turn, his face contorting into a grimace which he quickly righted. “What an…. Interesting texture,” he said, in lieu of what he really thought. He much preferred them in a soup.

“Oh no they’re terrible, but they’re expensive, which is why nobles eat them at parties. I’m not sure who decided oysters were a delicacy and should cost so much but whomever they were, swindled the entirety of Theren court masterfully.” Nuri said with no lack of admiration in his voice. If only he could figure out some way to do the same to the Belethan court… ah well, he’d find something on the third day of celebration no doubt. All the merchants worth their salt would be right here for him to pick through.

Oh right, the third day, which came after the second day, which is when the pleasuremen and women would arrive for the nobles to enjoy. No one had informed Avery of that yet, as he was positive Lady Veora wouldn’t have dared to. And Lord Emerson could hardly be considered an expert on the structure of Theren celebratory periods and the etiquette behind when a sex party is appropriate and when it isn’t. The solemnity of day one would give way to the carnal pleasures of post marital bliss once the couple was wed. He should probably warn Avery about what was expected of them as guests so that he could mentally prepare.

Avery drank from his goblet, hoping to rid himself of the taste of the oyster. He’d noted the wine did not seem to be watered as it was at Beleth court dinner, but he wasn’t sure if that was the custom here or an exception for the celebratory occasion.

He’d worried for Emerson, as the serving staff here had no soft spot for him - or orders from the royal family to monitor his intake. He’d tried to assess his friend from afar, but Emerson was difficult to track - Laughing with a cluster of young lords in the corner one moment, and spinning a beautiful woman across the dance floor the next. Emerson could handle himself, Avery had had to reassure himself. He would have to trust that the bastard lord knew his own limits when it came to his vices, and would not embarrass himself or his crown.

“One more thing, I forgot to tell you about the sex parties didn’t I? It’d be considered uncouth if we didn’t attend one,” Nuri said.

Avery managed to gulp down the wine in his mouth instead of spraying it down the front of his tunic, but it was a near thing and he had to cough a few times to clear his throat, trying to wheeze as quietly as possible.

“Yes, I believe you failed to mention that,” he hissed. He’d heard rumors of such things- court wide orgies scheduled by the crown, with the regularity and expectations of Redhill’s weekly dinners- but assumed it was largely speculation and gossip among his own courtiers, hoping to paint their Theren counterparts as base and debauched.

Nuri patted his back in sympathy, till he was breathing reasonably again.

“We can’t seriously be expected to partake in that,” he said incredulously. Some of the more… libertine members of his own court held similar functions, but those were held in their own private apartments. A monarch would never be expected to attend, much less a foreign one.

It seemed it would rather complicate the issue of progeny, for one thing. For another… Something inside Avery grew tight with displeasure at the idea that someone else might see Nuri in such a state of vulnerability, might hear the noises he made when Avery kissed him. Even worse was the idea of someone else touching him, their hands on his exposed skin- His own hand gripped his goblet harder than was really necessary.

“Plenty of people spend the entire time spectating, that's what I always did,” Nuri said.

Something akin to relief blossomed in Avery’s stomach

“Some of the positions the pleasurewomen can get into are quite impressive whether they're naked or not. The men too.” Though to be honest not many of the men were that flexible, mostly they tended to be big and strong. Able to lift people above their heads and hold this position or that.

“The earlier we go and make an appearance the less ‘wild’ things will be. In and out, and claim we were there longer than we were. People get more… touchy after the wine has been flowing for a while.” He suggested a course of action that would excuse either of them from participation. Nobody was going to remember who did what or even recognize each other after a certain point anyway.

“There's masks people wear, the performers don't wear them but the nobles do. A bit of anonymity helps the night along and keeps the quarrels down to a minimum.” Not that people were all that inclined to be salty and irritated after indulging so gluttonously in pleasure.

“All right,” Avery allowed, still skeptical but more willing to consider it. They could eat and make polite conversation and leave- And just ignore whatever was happening in the periphery. “So long as- I mean, I’d rather… Well,” Avery said, taking another drink of his wine to avoid saying anything more. Nuri didn’t need to know about the anger and possessiveness he’d felt a few moments before.

“Is there anything else you might have forgotten to tell me,” he prompted instead, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.

He should probably say something about being pretty sure he had seen Brutus around here but all he said was-

“I’m pretty sure that's it, you don't have to worry, I don't exactly have a reputation of indulging anyway. Nobody is expecting you to jump in and frolic.” That was a lie, they were probably all anticipating what his reaction to this indulgence would be. But Avery didn't need to know that. It would only stress him out, given his modest nature.

Nuri would protect him from their prying scrutiny as much as possible. The same way he'd been doing all night, by keeping the conversations industrious and butting heads with anyone bold enough to remark upon his husband in any way.

--

“Who’s side are you even on anymore?” Lady Desdemona complained, smile not faltering, unlike her scowling husband Lord Cyrus hiding behind his goblet and looking away.

“The Crown’s, as ever Lady Desdemona.” Cromwell continued speaking mostly to her, despite his blackmailing being leveled at deals her husband made. When it came to the subject of marital matches being arranged, it was the wives in Theren that held the final sway. It was considered their domain and duty.

“It just so happens that the crown does not rest upon the Dowager Queen’s head any longer, a fact that you should come to terms with by the time we usher in our new King. Her majesty has done her duty perfectly and provided for us a strong union. For the good of us all.”

“Don’t you dare question our loyalty Lord Chancellor, we graciously sent our only daughter to be wed in a far away land for the Crown. You are asking us for another child, our heir, as well.” Lord Cyrus pointed out.

“And without even bringing our daughter home to see us.” Lady Desdemona backed him up, eyes narrowing a little.

“I doubt you would've wanted to pry Lady Mercidea from the attention of her rather wealthy suitors. Competition is fierce in Belethan court and she is without the benefit of her mother to guide her. I advised her to stay and foster the attention she is receiving rather than lose it. Would you have me sabotage her efforts? Especially when considering her position, her safest course of action is to enter the marriage state as soon as possible?” Cromwell returned Lady Desdemona’s fierce glare with a gentle reminder.

“Your daughter does you a credit Lady Desdemona, she knows her duty and diligently makes every effort to be sociable and amenable to the correct people.” The lies he was weaving served the dual purpose of both calming the Lord and Lady of Argos and covering for Mercy. Poor girl, he'd seek to run away too if he had such demanding parents. For all her concern, Cromwell wasn't ignorant to the fact that they offered their daughter up like a sacrificial lamb to curry favor and possibly gain a foothold in Beleth. Without the courage to even go with her and ensure her care.

Lord Cyrus sighed and his wife’s shoulders ceased to be so tense.

“I trust she is well?” He asked, not trusting the answer but wanting to hear it either way.

“She is thriving, as are the other ladies, who remain close-knit. You need not worry.” Cromwell assured him.

Lord Cyrus nodded, “That doesn't change the fact that we can't give our heir to Beleth. Cassius must stay here to inherit.”

“I am not asking you to give your heir to Beleth, on the contrary, play your cards right and you could gain a princess for your heir. I am simply asking that you hold off on any engagements for him for another year. He is still very young, this will not look odd.” Cromwell dangled the carrot finally, after giving them the stick for the past quarter hour.

Their eyes widened at such a revelation, and the Lord and Lady turned to each other and smiled.

It would appear that they were in agreement about the savory treat he'd dangled in front of them.

“A year.” Lady Desdemona raised her goblet.

“A year.” Cromwell raised his.

Now to speak to Lady Feona, who had the son most likely to be actually chosen when the time came. If the time came. Cromwell was busy lining up possibilities for a proposal he hadn't even brought to King Avery yet.

_____

The hours went on, the cups were refilled, and as they drew closer to the dawn, Emerson felt he’d done decently, all things considered. He doubted any of the people he’d met this evening truly liked him, but the majority seemed to at least enjoy him and his novelty.

He’d cemented himself as the most accessible member of the Beleth delegation- And as the most vulnerable. He did not have Lady Veora or Prince Nuri to steer his conversations, and he’d taken the digs at his birth and his character with no more defense than a shrug and a smile.

From the judgement of his periphery and the occasional quick check-in, it seemed that Minister Brennan and Their Majesties had also managed to escape any major incident. He’d seem Cromwell flitting about, but the Chancellor had only nodded in passing to him instead of stopping for even a brief conversation. Emerson had squashed his feelings about that, in favor of speculating about the frequency with which Avery’s hand settled around his husband’s waist as the night wore on, even when the pair wasn’t dancing- It was hardly excessive, especially compared to the couple he’d found in that alcove earlier, but Emerson had to wonder if it was intentional on his friend’s part or the consequences of the strong wine.

All in all, it had been a moderately successful and occasionally even enjoyable night, and Emerson wasn’t going to let some hotheads ruin it over some spilled wine and a stained tunic.

“Young lords, this is hardly necessary,” Emerson implored, raising a hand as he stepped between the drawn swords.

“He has to pay for this,” the younger one slurred, raising his sword higher and using it to point at his friend turned foe.

“Perhaps that would be best accomplished by buying you a new shirt,” Emerson suggested idly, trying to subtly assess how badly this fight might go if it were to proceed. He’d seen neither of them fight before, but they certainly looked as though they had the basic training to do some damage- And both were so drunk that his evaluation was worthless anyways.

“Why should I have to spend my coins on his clumsiness,” the other protested. “The oaf ran into me!”

“No,” the affronted man decided. “I will have blood! Out of my way,” he demanded, though Emerson did not comply.

“Come, come- There is still time before the ceremony,” Emerson said soothingly. “You can change into a clean tunic, and be with your family to cheer to Her Majesty’s health and happiness! But if two accomplished gentlemen such as yourselves cross blades, you shall undoubtedly both have wounds to tend to and miss the wedding altogether! Would you shame your families and your beautiful Queen in such a way?”

This gave the tunic-ruiner at least some pause, as though it had only just occurred to him that dueling at his monarch’s wedding feast was perhaps not the wisest course of action. A pretty girl who was either the sister or fiancee of the other man tugged at the sleeve of his ruined tunic. “Please,” she begged. “Before Queen Agora notices, please.”

It was true, they were beginning to draw onlookers. Exactly what Emerson needed- To be found in the middle of a fight.

“This is my honor,” the younger man said, his words emphatic and clear even through his drunkenness. “You would not understand,” he told Emerson dismissively, and the other man nodded.

Of course not, Emerson thought wryly. As though being a drunken idiot over an imagined slight was somehow unique to Theren culture

“I see neither of you will be swayed,” Emerson allowed, stepping away from between the two young men, despite the panic in the eyes of the fiancee- No, definitely a sister, he was pretty sure.

Instead of joining the growing circle of onlookers however, Emerson stepped so that he was level with the young man and moved to adjust his grip on the hilt of his sword. “Do make sure you aim your blows only at your enemy,” he advised, as the sword’s direction had wavered substantially over the course of the conversation and was pointed more at the gathered courtiers than the intended target. “And that you- Oh, wow,” he remarked conversationally as he looked down at the sword. “This is beautiful, do you mind?”

Before he could gather the words for an answer, the sword was in Emerson’s hand instead, being held up to the light as the redhead admired it.

“This is very finely crafted,” he said in appreciation. The young man gaped at him, perhaps for the theft or for interrupting his vengeance. “The balance is superb, absolutely remarkable,” he said, tossing the sword in the air and catching it in the other. He did it a second time, so the hilt of the blade was back in his dominant hand. “Why, I bet I could even….”

Emerson threw the sword up into the air, so it spun hilt over blade over hilt- There was a gasp or two from their audience and both duelists instinctively drew back as the sword came back down towards them. It landed in Emerson’s outstretched palm, and after a brief wobble and a quickly hidden grimace from Emerson at the blood he’d drawn with the trick, the sword stayed balanced upright.

There were more gasps, and even a smattering of applause. Yes, thank you, Emerson thought to himself. He enjoyed an appreciative audience.

“A most excellent piece of craftsmanship,” Emerson praised the man he had taken the sword from, who beamed at him.

“It was commissioned to my specifications,” he said proudly, as though he’d really had any part in the sword’s design.

The other duelist scoffed. “My sword is just as fine,” he protested. “Finer even!”

A much safer contest, Emerson decided, and seized the objection.

“And if it isn’t?,” Emerson asked, and the older man scowled.

“... Then I will buy him his new tunic,” he allowed.

“Do you accept this bargain? That if I am unable to balance his sword on the palm of my hand as I have yours, then he will owe you a shirt,” Emerson asked the other man, who was already bragging about his commission to anyone who would listen.

“I agree,” he said, after a moment’s consideration and a nod.

“But if you are able,” the other man pressed. “Then what do I get?”

“Then,” Emerson said, scrambling to come up with something suitable. “You shall both buy a jug of fine wine to gift to Her Majesty Queen Meera in the other’s name, in the spirit of your continued friendship and your shared dedication to her continued joy,” he proposed.

“To Her Majesty,” someone in the crowd cheered drunkenly, and Emerson thanked the gods - or spirits- for it.

“To Her Majesty,” both men agreed, and shook on it. Emerson breathed a sigh of relief as he took the second sword.

He wasn’t actually sure he could catch the second sword as he had the first- Balancing the first in the one hand rather limited him. And this time he couldn’t pass the sword back and forth between his own hands to get a feel for its weight and balance first. But if it clattered to the floor- Well, the worst that would happen was a blow to his ego, and to the older man’s purse. Acceptable losses, all things considered. Or he could miscalculate the throw and maim a bystander.

He tossed the second sword into the air with a quick prayer. He did indeed miscalculate- Not badly enough to maim anyone, but enough that he had to move to catch it. The first sword wobbled dangerously as he did so, and he had to twist his wrist significantly to keep the second upright when it landed in his other palm. They were both going to fall, he was sure- But after a moment, he righted himself out of the awkward leaning stance he’d had to dive into and both swords shook only slightly, their points balanced in small pools of blood in his palms.

The applause was much louder this time, and Emerson beamed, rotating himself slightly so that all of his audience could be equally impressed with him.

“What else can you do,” someone asked eagerly, and Emerson leaned his head back so that he was looking at the asker upside down.

“Um,” Emerson considered. He’d learned a variety of tricks, but he wasn’t eager to pull out anything more dangerous than what he’d already done with weapons that weren’t his own- His mentors would probably have strong words with him as it was, if they’d known he’d done even this one stunt with swords he hadn’t handled previously.

“If you get me an apple or something to bite, you can try stacking more on the first,” he suggested and she hurried off to find suitable fruit.

“Can you juggle,” someone else asked, and Emerson laughed.

“Of course,” he said, “But not swords, I’m afraid. Maybe some daggers, if you let me practice with them first!”

Agora wandered over to the scene, people making way for her wherever she went so she may reach the front of the crowd without so much as brushing shoulders. Assessing as she went and coming to her conclusions.

“Daggers did you say? Guards!” She called for the castle’s footmen.

“Here we were thinking that the performers and jesters had retired for the night, only for one more to indulge us all. Or has he been indulging us all night as is?” She smiled wide as the guards promptly arrived at her side, glancing at Lord Emerson's bloodied palms in glee. Enjoying the laughter that followed at her own words.

Emerson smiled as widely and graciously as he could, despite the danger he knew he was in.

“Gentlemen, do please retrieve your swords so that I may bow as befits the Dowager Queen,” he asked, and they did so quickly. He swept a deep bow to Agora, clenching his fists so that his blood would not drip on the marble floors.

“Yes, the entertaining little fellow. Give our friend your daggers, he’s going to juggle them for us.” She calmly ordered, a sliver of ice in her intentions.

“I’m afraid I am a bit rusty on that particular trick,” Emerson protested as politely as he could. “If you would give me but a day to practice, then tomorrow perhaps I could-”

“They make Lords in Beleth like this apparently. All so very talented.” She laughed to herself, grinning like a predator about to feast on its prey. The heckling of those present joined her as she implied that all lords of Beleth were merely court jesters.

“It’s only me, I’m afraid,” he corrected. “Training with a Jolessic circus troupe is not a very common experience,” he stalled, trying to think of a way out of this that would not be considered an outright insult to the Dowager Queen.

Even if had been using his own set of juggling knives- currently displayed on the mantle of his sitting room in Redhill, untouched for years- he would not have dared to pick them up with bloody palms. He was liable to injure himself, or someone else, if he tried.

“I insist!” It was the most fun Agora'd had all night until all at once the fire of her laughter turned into wide eyed ash as someone poured wine all over her back. The liquid seeping through down to uncomfortable places, staining her hair sticky as well as her dress. She stood frozen and disbelieving as the crowd grew deadly silent.

“Spirits mother! Terribly sorry I’m wretchedly clumsy. Guards! Enough of this damned foolery the ceremony is not long away and now the Dowager Queen must change her dress before it begins. Usher everyone to the cliffside and have them wait there for us.”

Not a single soul moved, though Emerson gaped at Nuri with obvious confusion.

“Now.” Agora turned her head and furiously commanded. Offended twice over now that it was clear that people did not consider one of her progeny to be above them in authority. The audacity of everyone present tonight was going to send her spinning into her grave.

The speed with which everyone, the boys who had started their quarrel included, scrambled like the little rats they were wasn’t enough to satisfy her boiling rage. One of the ladies even had the nerve to press a handkerchief into Emerson’s hand as she scurried past. So she whirled on Nuri and swung her open palm at his face once they were gone.

He must have predicted this however, as her palm connected with nothing but air. He'd already backed up out of her range and caught her wrist as it flew by his head.

“Careful mother, you don't have much time to waste. Or dignity for that matter. Where do you get the audacity to openly mock your honored guests? Lord Emerson’s rank and position demands your respect.” He threw her wrist to the side, disgusted by her behavior. If she was going to go low he was going to go lower.

“You honor me, Your Majesty,” Emerson said, his head bowed demurely to hide his surprise. He was as grateful for Nuri’s intervention as he was annoyed- The prince likely only had so much political capital to spend against his mother, and it seemed wasteful to use it for Emerson’s sake.

“As hostess of this party you've done him wrong and I am well within my rights to demand you apologize to him.” Nuri sneered at her.

Agora calculated for a quick moment and decided to say nothing at all. Gathering her sash and turning to leave. Without so much as a glance towards her victim.

Which is about what Nuri expected of her. He watched her leave in triumph.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Emerson told Nuri once Agora was gone. “It wasn’t necessary,” he clarified, as he did not want Nuri thinking he needed to make a habit of rescuing him. “But thank you all the same.”

Nuri frowned and sighed, glancing at the redhead’s palms, “Don’t give them any room, they’ll take the entire house from you” He did his utmost to sound annoyed and not worried, but lacked any heat in his tone and expression.

He'd say 'it's no matter.’ but truth was he'd just drawn a line in the sand with someone who was dangerously teetering on the brink of considering him her enemy. An unfortunate place to be, even if she did lack a crown.

“Did everyone already head outside for the ceremony,” Avery asked, coming up behind them, his hand finding purchase on Nuri’s hip. “I apologize, I did not mean to make you wait,” he told his husband, before frowning at his friend. Emerson had ripped the handkerchief in half and was wrapping the pieces about his palms as efficiently as he could. “What on earth happened to your hands?”

“Lord Emerson needs to safeguard his limbs a bit better, had my mother had her way she'd have him leaving Theren with fewer than he came here with.” He told Avery before turning back to Emerson, “Why were you juggling swords anyway?”

“I was balancing them,” Emerson corrected. “As a diversion- I had a pair of drunken fools intent on skewering the other.”

“Oh! Did you do the thing where you toss it in the air and catch it on your chin,” Avery asked eagerly and Emerson grimaced. He would never do that with a sword he didn’t know to be blunted at the point.

“Gods, no- I was trying to avoid bloodshed, not create it, I just used my hands,” he said, which he thought should be evident. “I bragged a bit too much, and Her Highness took me up on it,” he said with a shrug.

“She can be such a bloodthirsty hag sometimes.” Nuri rolled his eyes and pat Emerson on the arm, “No good deed going unpunished eh? Let's go before we miss the thing we came here for. Lord Emerson is joining the rest of the crowd but you and I have to make the trek to the shoreline with the other immediate relatives.” Nuri said as he looped his arm with Avery’s to move him along. The excitement of the night was sobering, but it was almost over, and at least he had that to look forward to.

Avery bent to kiss Nuri, but only caught his cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered in his ear.

Nuri flushed pink. Avery, damn him, had been absentmindedly slipping his hand into his pockets and doing ridiculous things like squeezing his hip bone and drumming his fingers there. He probably was only bored and fidgeting but he should be more considerate of riling up poor innocent parties who'd been doing their best not to drink too much and focus on the conversations at hand.

Avery glanced over his shoulder as he followed his husband, a bit concerned at the prospect of Emerson tying cloth onto his own hands, but he needn’t have worried. Someone had already anticipated the issue, and came up to offer Emerson his help and a pair of actual, clean bandages.

“Thank you, Minister Brennan,” Emerson said, as the older man tucked the bloody handkerchief pieces into his own pocket, and gently wrapped Emerson’s hands in the fresh linen, tying each into a bow.

“Of course, my dear boy,” Brennan said congenially. “Though Lady Veora assures me that if the young lords had come to blows, it would not have ruined the party- Apparently, it is not unheard of, for a fight or two during such festivities.”

“Well now you tell me,” Emerson said with a dramatic sigh as they left the hall and began along the path towards the cliffside. “And I brought out my party tricks for nothing.”

“Oh now, I’ve always enjoyed your party tricks,” Brennan pacified him and Emerson couldn’t help but laugh.

“You just want a demonstration of my sword swallowing, don’t you,” he teased with a wink.

“It is a magnificent trick,” Brennan returned. “Almost as worthy of praise as its performer,” and Emerson gave him a fond smile.

“Maybe I’ll give you a private show later,” he whispered to Brennan as they took their places amongst the other courtiers. “But for now, I think we best pay attention.”

Brennan nodded, his hand squeezing Emerson’s thigh before leaving. Emerson turned his regard to the crowd and the ceremonial set up in front of them, telling himself he was not looking for anyone in particular.

That someone he wasn't looking for stood right behind him, pondering some contrived methodology he could use to entrap the fox about to run away with the old goat. Sorry old billy goat, but the crow was cleverer.

“I can fill you in on what you need to know while we clean up those hands in my apartments later,” Cromwell leaned forward, letting his shoulder brush up against Lord Emerson's back to alert him to his presence before whispering his lure.

Well that was interesting, Emerson thought- He’d seen Cromwell only a few times all night, and heard from him not at all. But if he’d been gathering information, Emerson would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to hear it- Or hear whatever version of it Cromwell wanted him to know.

But he was a bit peeved at Cromwell, expecting him to drop everything just because the older man wanted to talk. “I suppose,” Emerson allowed. “What’s the best way between Minister Brennan’s suite and your apartments?”

“Through the garden, the exterior, the interior is too maze-like to be quick.” Cromwell could've offered to escort him through the upper hall to avoid the garden entirely, as he was one of the few allowed to use it. But his catch was being so slippery, better not to make things too easy so he'd reconsider the trek to Minister Brennan’s and just come to him first.

He leaned back and resumed his watch of the pinkening sky through the hole of the circular wedding arch. It was beautiful and golden, rays bursting from the opening in long thin shards to mimic the sun. It must have cost a fortune to make, and was impressive, but there was something to be said about the wild beauty of the ones the peasantry made whenever they held their weddings. Gnarled long sticks put together this way and that to create a strangely perfect circle that all together both looked natural and unnatural. Like humans did he supposed. Beings of nature that were not a part of it and yet were every bit as animal as the creatures who did not deign to create society.

Others noticed before he did, the royal couple approaching the cliff, led by Corinth’s head Spirit Guide. They all grew silent and parted like the sea from the shore to make way for their path up and up. The both of them dressed in their house colours and looking magnificent, like rulers, up and up. Eyes trained ahead and focused, as if in a trance. They all were, he supposed, all of them tired and bleary-eyed and in a ritualistic trance for one the oldest traditions their kind held dear.

When they finally made it up to the top of the cliff, and the Spirit Guide began the psalm, Cromwell glanced down below to the west, the Royal family waited. The Dowager Queen was in a different dress than the one she attended the party in. He wondered if and how that had to do with whatever ruckus it was he missed while grilling Lord Brutus in another room as to what it was he was doing in the castle after he had specifically banished him from setting foot in it. Imagine his surprise to learn Brutus had been summoned by said Dowager Queen.

The psalm finished and everyone held their breath as the couple joined hands, ran through, and leapt off of the edge of the small cliff and into the waters below. The sun rising to officiate their union. Everyone rushed to the west side of the cliff to catch sight of them below, and from a distance watched as they swam to the shore, helped up by the rest of the royal family. Nuri clutching his sister in a tight embrace. It was sweet and emotional, and the crowd of onlookers cheered and whooped. It was done. For better or worse. Theren had their new King. Long may they reign.

code by @fudgecakez