God Is On His Knees (IC/Still Accepting)

[Perfect Neglect]

Listening with a cool indifference as Serah explained her somber attitude to Maximus, Bastian remained still, his hand lightly resting on the pommel of his sword. What a dismal girl, he thought, his own cool gaze raking over the woman's form. It wasn't that she was unattractive-- quite the opposite-- but why she had chosen that as her introduction to her future husband, he was unsure. Was she being clever or did she simply lack tact? Whatever the reason, it was difficult for the captain to dismiss her words regarding the attack on her.

Why was she being blamed for her husband's death? Under what circumstances had the man died?

The thoughts stirred unsettling feelings of concern, and Bastian looked up at his King as the woman spoke, momentarily catching his gaze in a sort of warning.

His thoughts, however, were soon interrupted by Nyoka as she sidled over and he spared the witch a passive glance. No, the thought did little to ease his tumultuous feelings over the situation-- but that was no one's concern. While it was evident that the witch held no love for this newcomer, Bastian merely shook his head in response. "No one could ever replace Laurelai," he said quietly, his eyes again flickering over Serah.

While he disregarded the woman's comments about bearing children for the King, Bastian involuntarily tightened his grip on his sword when she mentioned poison. "Do not tempt fate," he murmured, his voice holding a tense note, "How did her husband die?" He didn't expect the woman to readily know-- but he was confident that she could find out. This she-wolf seemed to care more for her dead chamber maid than her late husband and that didn't sit well with the captain.

Whatever the reason, Bastian could see that he would not be speaking to Maximus any time in the immediate future and the knight gave the King and his lady a bow before he excused himself to the gardens to make rounds amongst the guests. Discussing the events with the King could come later-- right now he needed to acquaint himself with the throng of guests, learn faces and ensure that no other surprises would be happening. He also needed to clear his head and the unusually cool air would likely be of help in that matter.

Making his way out of doors, Bastian took issued a light sigh and did his best to clear his mind. He had no reason to be upset with the situation; Maximus was entitled to do as he pleased, though discussing such major events would-- no. This was unnecessary, his job was to protect the King, and right now that meant making rounds.

Sliding between the visitors as he picked his way though one of the gardens, the captain paused as he watched unfamiliar children go tumbling into one of the guests. Shortly after an adult-- a parent, perhaps-- caught up with them. One of the Clayburns, if he recalled correctly; a northerner. Hearing John's inquiry, Bastian slowly approached the pair, piercing eyes fixing first on John then Marcella-- the younger, somewhat effeminate-looking man denying his position as a guard. Why was that a matter of concern?

And what was the unusual aura emanating from the young foreigner?

Closing the rest of the distance between himself and the others, Bastian met John's gaze with an impassive expression. "I am," he said, his voice taking on a harder note, "Is there an issue I should be made aware of?"

 

[VengefulPeanut]

Feeling a hand rest on her upper arm, Eira visibly flinched. "Oh, Charlie, it's you," she sighed with relief, her entire demeanour relaxing. She gave a nervous chuckle, a side effect of the shock no doubt. It was something she could never explain, the fear of another human's touch. Maybe it was her low self-esteem or maybe it was something else but any sort of contact chilled her to the bone. Her mind was distracted by pangs of guilt, however, when Charlie prosed his question. She had completely forgot herself when she had seen Evelyn, the girl being like the sister she had never had, and the promise of a dance and a day's ride on the castle horses were completely forgotten. She looked to Ralwen with eyes seeking for permission. After all, he was the one that was responsible for her and would no doubt be the one reporting back to her father the goings on at the court. Giving her a dismissive shrug, he grumbled slightly.

"What am I? Your father? You don't need my permission, my lady," he said in an almost lecturing tone. When Charlie bowed his head, he returned the gesture politely. "Just you keep in mind, young man, I know a thousand ways to kill a man with just my right hand and my wife knows a thousand more. Trust me, she's tried to use 50 of them on me." He had a smug grin on his face after that. Crossing his arms, he chuckled lightly to himself and moved out of the room at the behest of the kingsguard. "Oh, Eira, when you're done meet by the firepits. I've got something for you." With that, he broke away from the group and followed the main rabble of nobles. Eira looked to Charlie as they walked, a smile on her face quite appreciative of the fact she had gotten to know someone beyond her family and Ralwen.

"So, I never took you for the kind of man who enjoyed strolling gardens," she observed in a passive tone, "You struck me as the kind of person who would prefer being the life of the party." As she walked, she held her hands in front of her, resting on her dress with her thumbs dancing around one another. Who would have thought simple interaction with a nearly-stranger would be so nerve-racking?

Eira's outfit and hairstyle for the day

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Bjarke had three of his men awake at any given hour of the night. His men slept in the unused barracks of the castle and he had his own room, in the noble area. He had his greatsword in his bed and his dagger was embedded in one of the wooden posts that held the canopy above his bed. He didnt sleep well thinking about all the possibilities of what could happen while he was here. But eventually he fell into the bliss of sleep. When he woke it was a steward coming to rouse him for the days court meetings. He woke and pulled on his armor and put his sword in its sheath on his back. He walked out of his room and looked at one of his Pack. He told him to go find Ÿrd and Maryn, then to tell Tilki to raise some local whores for when the day ended.

The man nodded and moved quickly away, Bjarke began walking towards the throne room where no doubt his sister was being paraded around for the Southern lords and ladies. The delicate flower of the north, a toy for the politicians of the capitol. He could not let her suffer their jibes and sideways comments alone. He began picking up speed as he neared the throne room, or what he thought was the throne room. He had become somewhat lost. Was this his room? No it had to be something else he'd been walking for too long. He looked around then neared a corner and almost knocked some poor woman over. But this was no ordinary woman, it was Elizabeth Clayburn. She greeted him warmly and hugged him. He returned the hug and smiled down at the girl, she had been a fancy of his when he was younger. But times had changed his ways, and hers as well.

"Elizabeth, I had hoped to see you in the throne room. Which I seem to be having trouble finding." Bjarke said with a calm smile, Bjarke gestured to her current garb and chuckled a bit, "I do believe your rather under dressed. What will these Southerners think if we all show up in armor and nightgowns? Or is that simply the fashion here?"

**********************
​

Yoren Moquer moved quickly, he was late. Terribly late. This was not his style and it certainly did not suit him as master of information. Had he missed much? Did Bjarke kill someone already? Had the Clayburns popped out another child? What if Nyoka had cast some witchy spell on the poor Northern girl? Too many things that he didnt know. He began running. His purple robe flowed as he jogged down the corridors to the throne room. He managed to arrive just in time to see Nyoka speaking to Lady Serah, that damned witch was always stirring the pot. Yoren moved quickly and saw Jon Auckland and his mercenaries were combat ready, this was good. It meant Maximus had taken Bjarkes midnight threats quite seriously. Yoren passed the Falcons and moved to where Lady Serah and King Maximus were sitting. He stood just behind Bastian and put a hand on the young mans shoulder. He put his mouth close and whispered.

"If you want to continue serving as Knight Commander I suggest you keep your eyes of our bride to be," Yoren said with a smirk, "Control Nyoka if she decides to get out of hand. I dont want to have a scene here, we know of the distrust Northerners have in magics. If Bjarke hears of the things Nyoka said to Serah... well lets just say that picking up the pieces will be less than pleasant."

Yoren patted the young man on the back and made his way into the crowd. He began grabbing drinks and handing them to those without them in their hands. Making small talk to each and everyone of the King's guests, things that he should not have known were spoken casually to those who kept them secret. He made sure everyone knew exactly how much influence he had here. He kept a smile the whole time, as to seem nonchalant in his pride.​

 

[Duchess]

Francis smiled to Noria as he walked past both her and the other guards. Running his fingers through his hair, he walked over to where the princess was sitting, quickly noticing the map. Kissing the top of her head, he said, "I feel as if your father would have slaughtered me if I were to have stayed the night." Looking down at the map, he studied his family's lands. Smirking, he said, "I'm only assuming that you have spies in the north but they need to update you on some things, especially with my family." Francis leaned back against her bed, trying to grasp any memory of the night before. He had a killer hangover and just the sound of his own voice was driving him insane. Who had been the blonde that he had woken up beside? Clearly it hadn't been that important because he hadn't seen her since or maybe she didn't remember either. Yes, it had just been a one night stand that didn't matter and he didn't even need to bring it up to Evelyn. Hopefully, he didn't get said girl knocked up. His brothers and sister would surely slaughter him then.

××

Amelia stared at Marcella, ignoring her angered father. Crossing her arms across her chest, she said, "I've never heard of a Lady Maria." Her tone was matter of fact and laced with doubt as she glanced at John who was inspecting Marcella just as much as his daughter was. John had gotten there in time to hear the girlish sound that left the 'young man' but doubt hadn't settled into his mind yet. He chose not to say anything else as he helped his nephew and son from the ground. Placing a hand on Amelia on Amelia's shoulder as a way of holding her back from saying anything reckless, he looked in the direction of a new voice, quickly noting it Bastian. Shaking his head, he said, "No, we were just on our way." Turning his attention back to Marcella, he added, "I apologize for the children. They're not accustomed to being at court."

××

Charlie chuckled at Rawlen's comment as he watched the older man walk away. Walking with Eira, he also couldn't help but to chuckle at her comments. Glancing to her, he said, "If we were in Paris I would be the life of the party, but I'm afraid being here brings up old demons and memories that I'd rather forget. I'm also not a fan of our current king but I don't believe any house in the north is." Clasping his hands behind his back, he looked up to the sky, noting that clouds were hanging over the castle. He had never been one for the sun but the sun was always present in the south. He had grown up in the mountains so the cool breeze didn't bother him but he glanced over at Eira wondering if it bothered her. Removing his coat, he said, "Where are my manners? Please take my coat."

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Elizabeth laughed softly, saying, "The castle is tricky to navigate but the throne room is down the hall a ways and to your right or you could just follow the gossip." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she tried to remember the last time she had seen Bjarke. Had it been close to a year now? Surely not. The last time she could clearly remember seeing him was at one of the summer tournaments but had it been the summer before? Shaking the thoughts from her head, she blushed as he mentioned her night gown. Meeting his gaze, she said, "Well it isn't my fault that my room was invaded by my family before I had time to properly dress. I sorta ran out before I had time to change. You know me and my temper, always gets the better of me." Hadn't it been Bjarke that she threw rocks at when they were younger and she was suffering from a broken heart or was that one of her brothers? She didn't remember but she did remember their adventures as kids and long into their teen years. Elizabeth knew they had both changed over the years but she did hope their friendship hadn't. Motioning in the direction to the throne room, she said, "If you give me ten minutes to go get properly dressed, I wouldn't mind leading you in the right direction." Without his response, Elizabeth quickly made her way to her chambers, happy to see that her brothers and cousin had already left. When she came back, she was changed and ready for the day. Smiling up at him, she asked, "Ready to go face the southerners? Oh, and I would rather you not kill anyone today." ​

 

[VengefulPeanut]

Eira was shocked at Charlie's comment though she did little to show it. It came as no surprise to her, of course, the northern houses had always looked warily upon Maximus. As much as she tried to distance herself from the more dangerous political intrigue of court she never took her finger off the pulse of current events. Her father had taught her that much. What shocked her was Charlie's open disdain for the King and the fact that he dared to express it in the King's very court. It was a very bold statement and while she knew that she would be unlikely to become embroiled in some sort of dire, devious scheme, that piece of information was certainly one worth keeping. As she pondered the implications of what he had said, she was roused from her thought as he spoke once more, offering her his coat. She smiled warmly before offering a dismissive hand. "It is fine, Charlie. I'm a lot more accustomed to the cold than you might imagine. But thank you. You're very kind." She gave a soft, yet awkward, giggle to supplement her thanks-shaped apology.

When the two had made it to the gardens, Eira began to admire the flowers and the intricately designed shrubbery. It was quite impressive to behold. The castle gardeners were clearly skilled in their craft. She crouched down by a flower bed which was decorated with beautiful patterns woven from peonies, bluebells and daisies. Eira's lips curled into an adoring smile and she gently grabbed at one of the plant's petals. Turning to look back at Charlie, her eyebrows raised slightly. "I'm surprised you so openly declare your disdain for our King. A very bold move..." Rising to her feet, she pressed the creases from her dress. "I have no quarrels with Maximus, myself. Nor does my father. My only fear is he may be playing with fire with little care for how much it could burn him." Her suddenly serious tone came with a slight frown which gave way to a shocked gasp. " I-I'm sorry. I know that seemed quite random and out of character for me. I just thought it was only fair I put all of my political cards bare on the table as you had. That way we are still equal." She gave a demure cough to try and control her stuttering, her nerves getting the better of her clearly, before she turned and began to walk again.

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Maximus listened quietly to the somber young woman, eyes never lifting from hers. So the man who had entreated him to find Serah a husband was dead and it seemed Serah was suspected of her husband's murder. That was not surprising, Maximus had already decided she'd killed him the moment he heard of his passing. He snapped his fingers at a servant while Serah spoke and the woman rushed off to fetch wine which she then poured into two goblets for the royal couple to be. When her tale came to a close and her question of worthiness arose, the King couldn't help but chuckle at the madness of it all.

"My dear lady, I had no idea you endured such a thing before arriving. I would have given you time to mourn before summoning you here. Please, forgive me. I feel very much a tyrant for forcing you here on the heels of your husband's death, betrayal, and the death of your girl. Truly, I am truly sorry for your loss." He reached over and took one of her cool hands in his, covering it in his grip to warm the flesh. "Let me assure you, the girl's death is not on your hands. I know my words are weightless as the wind to you, but as a ruler I know that such servants are rare and precious and she was happy to perish for you. She is welcomed to the next life as heroine, I am sure of it." He wanted to say The Gods honor such bravery. But religion was too burning of a topic, even to someone like Serah who was likely pagan herself or at least had northern pagan roots.

He glanced briefly at Robert and Arren, curious to see if Bjarke would interrupt. Nyoka, Bastian, and Yoren were lurking nearby, all the people he needed to be at hand if anything…problematic came up. The King turned attention back to his reluctant bride and smiled at her. "You may wear your grief as long as you wish my lady, there is no shame in it. I know the loss of a loved one…" His lips twitched. "And the betrayal of someone meant to protect you. I'm sure you've heard of my brothers' treachery. You and I are very much alike. But let us speak of happy things for now." He released her hands and sipped on his wine. "First of all, you are a beautiful of rare quality. I have found all the women of Vanqland to be very beautiful no matter their origin, truly they vary only in coloring and feature but your beauty is fair as the ice that coats your homeland. Let no one tell you otherwise." He smiled brightly. "As for your capabilities, fear not. Your experiences are all I can ask of you. And furthermore, I have no expectation of you to mother my daughters. They are women both. They both wish to befriend you, however, and Evelyn will be grateful for your advice and wisdom while Lilith could certainly stand to learn something of your grace. And on top of all of that, I expect Evelyn will marry soon enough and I only intent to rule another decade at maximum. My rule has been…challenging and yours will be short and easy comparatively. I would not wish being a new monarch on anyone and I hope Evelyn gives her future husband plenty of warning." He laughed to show his jest and returned to his wine.

"Do you wish to speak of the wedding? I'm fully happy to incorporate what customs you wish to, other than the crowning there is really nothing special about a royal wedding. Of course, it will be extravagant as you wish. Oh, that reminds me. Is your brother going to be joining us in these talks? I know your father cannot be here so I assume your brother will be the one to speak with regarding your wedding gifts?" He hoped Robert and Arren were listening. If she said yes, they would need to be on guard.

​

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Evelyn smiled at Francis, noting the twin circles under his eyes that mirrored the ones beneath her own. She glanced down at her maps and tilted her head at him. She'd need to speak to Yorren and get some updated ones if that were the case. "Whatever do you mean? Has your family lost or acquired land?" She turned towards him in her chair and smoothed out her simple gown. She'd have to wear something really extravagant tonight, so she allowed herself some comfort while she worked. Other than her maps there were all sorts of things piled on her desk. Requests, complaints, invitations from nobles from all over the kingdom. Her father had slowly giving her more and more work to ensure she was ready when her time to rule came. Not to mention her own recreational studies.

She got up and went over to Francis, taking his tired face in her hands. "You look exhausted. I have just the thing." She smiled at him mischievously and left his side to rummage through one of the trunks in her room. She withdrew a bottle filled with honey colored liquid. "It's from Mother Nyoka. She gave it to me for a special occasion, and why shouldn't this be special? The North and South are joining in marriage from my father and you and I are young and very much defeated from a night of revelry." She opened the bottle and poured an finger of the sweet smelling substance into two little glasses that rested on her nightstand. She corked the bottle and brought the glasses over. "She said it would chase away long nights and make me want to fall in love." She downed her glass and couldn't help from giggle from the heady sweetness of it. She felt a flush crawl up her neck and cheeks and a few more little giggles left her mouth as she lean over to kiss Francis on the mouth, tangling her fingers in his hair. She hummed in delight. "My goodness, I need more of this." Whether she meant the drink or kisses was unknown, so she kissed him some more.

​

 

[Hell Hound Woof]

Bjarke laughed, he hadnt taken into account the mass of Clayburns in the capitol now. The children, the brothers, and Elizabeth had to be the representing matriarch. Bjarke realized that burden also rested on Serah. She was not a delicate flower but she was no queen, gods damn that bastard Fairway for putting her in such a position. Bjarke realized the necessity of him being there. Before all these southerners sunk their teeth into the foreign girl. When Elizabeth came back out of the room Bjarke and her made their walk to the throne room.

"Elizabeth you wound me, as if I would carry such a sword for anything but my own protection." Bjarke said with a chuckle as he walked alongside the short northern girl. The pair chatted of remedial things as they neared the throne room and when they saw the Kings guard posted at the door Bjarke closed his mouth and adopted his regular stoney expression. As Bjarke entered the door he noticed a distinct barrier around him, every man and woman made efforts to stay at least four paces from him. Probably for the best. Bjarke couldnt stand the look of these people, all of them seemed so plump, or too skinny. Few looked to have ever seen a sword in their lives by the way the gazed at his longsword. Off to the sides of the party Bjarke spotted a legendary warrior, one who he had hoped no longer held loyalty to the Fairways. Jon Auckland, the big bearded Falcon leader. Bjarke had been told he reminded many of the old man but few made the comparison in a good way, most often it meant that he reminded them of a killer. As Bjarke was walking he heard the clang of metal armor and looked ahead of him, a knight of the Kingsguard. Tan skin, slicked back hair, and a thin face. Probably the type that the King took to bed every night. The knight held his helmet at his right side and put his hand in Bjarke's path.

"The only swords allowed in here are the ones that are loyal to the King," The young knight said, "I'll have to ask you to remove yours and have a servant return it to your chambers."

Bjarke cocked his head and looked down at the young man, he looked over him circled. His eyes assessing the armor. It would make it hard for the boy to swing backwards, or for him to see over his shoulders. Bjarke couldnt let the southerners think he was docile.

"What is your name?" Bjarke asked calmly.

"Sir Rikhen Stormar, knight of the kingsguard," Rikhen said proudly, "And I know yours, The Grey Wolf. Second best drunkard in the North, second only to the once legendary Black Wolf."

"You joke about my title? Rikhen Stormar?" Bjarke said drawing the name out making it sound funny, "What do you do? Sheathe the kings sword for him in the wee hours of night?"

"Oh and what do you do? Sit at your mothers grave while your father pisses himself?"

At this moment Yoren decided to interject after some crowd had gathered in the event of a fight breaking out. He stood between the two and handed Bjarke a drink. He looked at him with a smile and flipped his face to a silent anger as he looked at Rikhen.

"My Lord Keln, it is a pleasure to see you. I had worried you were not coming. Your sister and the King are currently talking while overlooking the gardens. I believe your familiar with our array of beautiful flowers. If you'll follow me I'll escort you to them." Yoren said all this in a peachy tone with a smile on his face, he looked towards Rikhen, "And I believe allowing the Lord Keln to keep his sword on him should present no problem. I doubt he would start any trouble, besides its only fair if there are to be swords present that he should have his."

Yoren gave Rikhen one final glance of annoyance and led Bjarke through the crowd towards the area that the King and Lady Serah sat. Bjarke stood and walked over to his sister putting a hand on her shoulder softly as not to startle her.

"I apologize for my tardiness. But I'm here now and wish to be privy to any ideas concerning the marriage. Also discussion of a dowry should be put in place, as my family is taking a loss of loved one and my sister is only just recovering from the death of her dear husband I believe the crown will be handling the full costs of the wedding. And my father's house will supply some small amount of Frostwood, as well as exotic Northern beauties to entertain the court." Bjarke squeezed his sister's shoulder lightly, in an affectionate way. He looked at Maximus dead in the eyes and held his gaze. He knew Maximus remembered his words from the morning, and he knew that those words would never leave him so long as Bjarke had breath.

 

[Perfect Neglect]

Apparently, John Clayburn was none too thrilled to have one of the Kingsguard so near-- though Bastian didn't really have to wonder why. It was no secret that most Northerners held no love for Maximus and the man was likely looking for someone to commiserate with. He wasn't disappointed to have the man issue a brief apology to the stranger, then continue on with the children. The knight knew full well that not everyone was going to hold the same respect for the King-- and there was nothing he could do to change that. What he could do, however, was ensure there was as little gossip and rumour-mongering as possible.

For now, though, his immediate interest lie in the strange young man.

Turning cold, blue eyes on Marcella, Bastian took another step toward her, taking in her appearance with an unreadable expression. There was something off about the man, apart from his young and considerably feminine appearance. He also possessed no familiarity, and the captain's memory seldom failed him.

"May I inquire as to your name and title?" Bastian asked quietly, his piercing gaze settling on Marcella's eyes. "You are Italian, are you not?"

As far as he was aware, Maximus had few contacts in Italy-- and even fewer that should be summoned to summer court. Adding to his unusual origins, the young man held himself oddly-- not in a sense that he was uncomfortable in armor, but that he looked rather nervous. And then, of course, there was the bizarre energy coming from him. Bastian hadn't encountered anything quite like it before, but it did not seem to be something that was indicative of a human. He would not jump to any conclusions yet, not without more information or cause to act, but he disliked the idea of a non-human stranger in the court.

"You are dressed for combat," he observed, though his arms stayed relaxed at his sides as he spoke. "Clearly a guard of some variety, or…" Trailing off, he again allowed his eyes to rake Marcella's form. The armor fit awkwardly as though it hadn't been fitted for her body. "Something else, perhaps?"

 

[Lady Myst]

Serah stared at his hand holding hers. She had felt a slight... jolt was the only word she could think of. Was it because he was the King or because he was to be her husband? She looked up at him. He was not like she had expected him to be, not harsh or dismissive. On the contrary he was very comforting to her in her grief. She doubted hearing your new bride talk about death right off the bat was something he had expected, but he seemed to understand her feelings.
His hand was so warm compared to hers. The Southern Sun holding the Northern Moon.

The imagery was an astounding one to come from her. She was not poetic in the slightest. Yet, for some reason, the sentiment seemed so fitting.
The sun and the moon...

He released her hand and she found herself missing it's warmth. But she found wine had been brought without her noticing. That she regarded the cup suspiciously said a lot about what she had been through so far, but the King drank with no qualms. Serah was not a drinker normally but decided that a cup of sweet wine would help calm her nerves.

"Your kind words reassure me," she said, actually giving him one of her rare smiles. This one was not the fake one she used for people. It was the real one that only Bjarke could usually pull from her. That this man was able to get it from her so quickly spoke volumes about his charisma. Whether it was genuine or the forked tongue of a snake remained to her seen. She hoped it was the former. "Thank you, your grace, for your understanding. I feared I had offended you already. I am afraid in the North we are accostumed to speaking our minds a little too much. I know if I am to gain the respect of the court I will need to curtail my tongue more."

She smiled again as he mentioned his daughters. "I want to befriend them as well. If there is anything I can do to help them in any way I will gladly do so. I know what it is like to grow up without a mother, wishing she was there to talk to about things that a father just can't understand. Of course you seem to have been a more... compassionate father then the one I had," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Bjarke has been my closest friend and ally my whole life. He cares for me deeply, as I care for him. So if, when you meet, he comes across as rude or even hateful, please understand that he merely worries for me. There are many things that he blames himself for, things that happened to me that he had no control over, but he still feels that he needs to protect me."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Moments later she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to smile at Bjarke. The king had put her at ease, but Bjarke's presence gave her more peace of mind.
"I told his grace about what happened before we left," she told Bjarke. "He has been very kind," she made sure to let her brother know. If he suspected the Maximus might mistreat her in any way the king would be dead and Bjarke would be beheaded for treason.

When talk turned to the wedding Serah found herself biting her lip. Was she nervous? Yes, but because she had a request. Her last husband had ignored her request, calling it ridiculous and pointless. But with the kind of man the king appeared to be she hoped he would not think low of her request.
"I have a small request your grace," she said, her cheeks actually coloring a bit. "It is about the ring. I would rather not have a diamond, if at all possible. It might sound strange, but I have never liked diamonds. They are traditional and what every bride recieves. I wish to be different. Could I, if it pleases your grace, be permitted to have instead a colored stone? I don't know what kind, just... something different."
Serah immediately looked down and prayed she was not coming across as strange to her husband-to-be... which was not seeming as bad as it had before.

 

[Ythania]

Nyoka had chosen to linger for a while longer, watching over the conversation without much thought for the couple-to-be's privacy. After all, she held as much importance for the King's safety as any other guard. Her gaze slipped to Bastian, who had previously wandered off to talk to some sort of young boy, leaving the couple alone...his words rung in her head though. What happened to the last husband of Lady Serah?

Nyoka smirked. She could always ask her friends below if she wanted to, but she wanted to see if anything interesting cropped up in this conversation. She folded her arms and peered over at Maximus, an expression of mild boredom gracing her own features. Aside from making sure no trickery happened in the first meeting (at least, from the queen's part) Nyoka had little to no interest on their romantic mutterings, and to be frank, it rather bored her. She had a feeling most of it was fake on his behalf anyway.

When Bjarke entered, things got interesting. Nyoka's face lit up with that usual dark curiosity and she cocked her head to the side like an intrigued serpent, drinking in the man's appearance. A big brother who's overly-protective of the queen, and the hand on the shoulder made it clear - whoever this northener was, he didn't like seeing Serah getting all scared and sad. Silently, Nyoka hoped the queen was too busy trying to seduce Maximus to bother telling her overgrown guard dog that Nyoka had a little chat with her earlier - but even if she did, Nyoka loved messing with the angry ones. It gave her life a bit of the excitement that she yearned for when stuck in the castle walls. She inspected her talons with the feigned interest of someone who's actually trying to figure something out, before resting in her usual shadowy spot and half-watching the conversation slip past as per usual. Her thoughts wandered off to that of the princesses - she wondered where they might be.

 

[Duchess]

"No need to apologize, Eira. I enjoy the company of a woman with an opinion." Charlie glanced to her, a small grin on his lips. Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he pondered over his disdain for Maximus. The king had never done anything to Charlie personally but it was his family who had issues with the king. Charlie could easily pass as a Frenchman since he had been living in France for so long, still something called him back home. Why now he didn't know but he was fairly certain he would find out soon enough. Plucking a small white flower from its stem, he gently twirled it around in his fingers as he said, "My open disdain for the king comes from my family, I suppose. Most don't know this, but I was raised to be Duke of Clarke. When I was barely a man, my uncle, Arthur, who had no children of his own, named John heir. It didn't come much of a surprise to me but the point is, I was raised to be duke. I was raised to do my uncle's job. So I guess my hate for the king is in my blood. When you're raised to hate someone, well it's difficult to sway ones opinion."

××

"We haven't lost or acquired lands, but my brother had mobilized most of our army. After I left my fiancee, he sent defenses to protect us on all sides. He's worried about a war with the Holy Roman Empire. I was engaged to a duchess after all and if I remember right she was like the cousin of Charles something or other. I guess I'm fairly good at pissing off royalty." Cocking his head to the side, he wondered if there was another reason as to why his brother had mobilized all of their army. Shrugging the thought off, he watched as the princess drank something from a strange bottle. He knew very well not to trust anything from Mother Nyoka, but apparently Evelyn didn't know that. When she practically threw herself at him, he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her back. He wanted to laugh at how strange she was acting but now he was intrigued by what was exactly in that bottle. As the kisses became more passionate, he thought about pulling away but the other part of his brain told him not too.​

 

[VengefulPeanut]

Eira gave a pleased smile and small nod as Charlie soothed her panic. She couldn't quite place why she was getting so worked up. It was quite nostalgic of her first interactions with Evelyn when they were younger. Regardless, her confidence was an issue she always knew she needed to work on. If she was to succeed her father when he passed away, god forbid, then she would need to be formidable in social situations. A cunning mind can't save you from every situation, after all.

As Charlie explained himself, the pair continued walking through the gardens and Eira listened closely. It was nice having someone talk about themselves. It took the attention off of her and she loved hearing the tales that people had to tell, even when it was in a slightly negative context. "I suppose sometimes you have to look deeper than the flesh," Eira said in a delicate tone, her voice as brittle as porcelain. She smiled confidently. "Not all of the fairytales we're told as children are true." While she could understand where Charlie was coming from, she was a girl of the West. The people of Stornoway had always been loyal to the crown and even though the rumours surrounding Maximus had caused a level of subtle unrest the province still never waivered in its dedication. The King was a good man from what she could tell. She just hoped that he knew what he was doing, especially for Evelyn's sake.

As the two progressed through the gardens, the jubilations from the main congregation of nobles could be heard prevalently, drowning out the ambient bird song. They passed a bench on the right, an ornate little thing painted white and constructed of intricate metal patterns. It contrasted quite pleasantly with the flowers behind it and seemed quite lonesome in its existence. Eira smiled as she paid it notice as one would an old friend. "My past is not so prestigious and adventurous as yours, I'd wager," she commented as she ran her hands along the metal before taking a seat. "I think my life can easily be summed up by events occurring here over the years. When I'd visit court in my teens, I'd escape from my parents and sneak over here, to this very bench, to find solitude. I'd take in the atmosphere and knit patterns into sheets of cloth before heading to my room to pen down idle romance tales." Her cheeks went a little red with embarrassment. "Like I said, fairytales."​

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

​

Maximus felt a smile tug at his lips. Rude. What a sweet compliment for Bjarke Keln. Serah either did not know of her brother's savagery or she was blinded by her love for him to see it clearly. The King was not foolish enough to correct her view of him, it would cause nothing but grief. As soon as she finished her statement the beast himself came stalking into the room, taking a seat and demanding attention with his presence. Maximus gave him an easy smile and a small nod of something like respect. The incident in the garden had been something of a wake up call, a reminder that a king never left the battle field, the setting merely changed. "Bjarke, welcome. It's been so long since I've seen you." He smirked at his own little private joke and sat up, abandoning the doting fiancé in exchange for the shrewd businessman he was known to be.

A parcel of Frostwood. A pauper's gift really. The land yielded nothing and was too cold and too wicked to house troops on. Maximus resisted rolling his eyes and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Of course the crown is happy to pay for the wedding. No expense shall be spared. As for a dowry, I require none. Perhaps a few of those hardy northern hounds if anything. I'm seeking to diversify my line." He licked his teeth and leaned forward. "And the beautiful are always welcome in my court. I'm sure they will make fine lovers and finer wives. I doubt many of my knights will last long in the face of such lovely paleness." He glanced over towards Yoren then reclined back in his seat. Dragging this meeting much longer would be of little benefit. "We shall be married with a fortnight, sweet Serah if that should suit you. As for your request," He smirked. "I have precisely a stone in mind that I think would flatter you immensely. I will see to it that no other lady shall have anything like it and that a diamond will be shamed by it." He stood up and bowed to press a kiss to Serah's hand. He stood straight and faced Bjarke, looking up at the taller man but hardly seeming small. The battle lust of his youth swelled in him as he stared down the formidable man. He had not had a fight of any worth in nearly a decade. A duel with Bjarke would be bloody and gritty and sweat filled. But oh, it would be sweet.

"Now then, I'm sure you two are eager for the festivities. Is there anything else before I present the first of your wedding gifts Lady Serah?" Mischief pooled in his amber eyes but there was no maliciousness in it.

​

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Evelyn was not interested in pulling away. At all. She hooked her arms around Francis' neck and kept him close. The kisses were growing hotter. She reached to tug at his shirt but something like lightning shot down her spine. All at once she jerked away and was across the room, back pressed to the wall. Her pupil's were blown out wide with lust and something…something else. She licked her lips and edged towards the door. "This...not us but this is a mistake…I'm sorry Francis. I'll see you tonight at the party. Feel free to nap in here or…" Her eyes widened when she ran her tongue over her teeth and found something that shouldn't have been there. "Whatever you want. Forgive me, and you're a wonderful kisser." She smiled in a strained manner and then bolted from the room.

She heard Noria shouting after her and managed to pause on the stairs. "Don't touch him he hasn't done anything!" "But my lady—" "I said don't touch him!" Dame Noria, even in her all her years of experience, was taken aback by the ferocity of the girl's order. "Yes my lady." Evelyn shook her head and hurried downstairs. The throne room was blessedly empty, the king's guard must have moved everyone out. She made unfortunate eye contact with Jon Auckland who must have seen the "panic" in her eyes. The man began to stalk towards her, hand on his weapon. Evelyn frowned and looked around. Where was she? Where was she? Jon was on her, staring down at her with the parental anger her father could never manage. "What's wrong?" She frowned at him and kept her hand over her mouth. "I need to find Mother Nyoka. Now." He grabbed her shoulders and stared at her, cold eyes full of concern. "Your father is playing with his woman while you're out here on your own. Come on Evey." She hid in the man's strong side and let him lead her towards Nyoka's chambers where he suspected she would be found. "Woman! The princess needs you." He pressed a kiss to Evelyn's sweaty forehead and turned to leave the room. Evelyn knew he was standing guard at the door.

The princess sank into one of the overstuffed chairs in the dark room, hung with all manner of strange things and cluttered with oddities. "Mama I drank some of that honey wine and it was wonderful…but then I had the strangest urge and the strangest feeling…like what father talks about. I broke a mirror a few nights ago without touching it and now I this." Her lip quivered as tears began to prick her eyes. "I need something. I need to calm down." She wanted to bury her head in the witch's ample bosom as she had as a child but she felt glued to the chair, shaking hands gripping the arms in a white knuckle grip. Without her hand over her mouth it was easy to see that her teeth had taken on the oddest point...

​

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

NPC UPDATE

Oblivious to the heaviness around her, Lilith flitted here there like a monarch butterfly. Never staying in one group or another, the princess was enjoying herself. When conversation got boring she moved to another group. When they got boring she ran through the grass with bare feet despite the chill. If anyone looked like a pagan, it was Lilith Fairway. Sir Dorian Locke retained his grave expression as he watched the princess. The dark skinned and haired man said not a word. Several nobles had tried to chat with him but the dark knight only stared at them somberly until they moved on. He wanted to be fucking one of these prim young noble girls, not watching Maximus' idiot daughter dance around like heretic. He shifted but kept his stance stiff and intent.

Sir Eli Hawthorne, on the other hand, was utterly entranced by the princess. He stared on, mouth agape as she cut a cartwheel in her gown and then sprang up to chat with several severe looking Westerners. Neither seemed bothered by her, they in fact both cracked smiles while Lilith chatted about the misfortune of the wild flowers with the dreadful weather. Eli tilted his head when the princess began telling a story about some wild woman to the north. It was an enchanting legend, a warrior maiden awaiting a man of strength enough to claim her. Interesting indeed. He felt a burning on the back of his neck and glanced to the left to find Dorian's black eyes piercing him like the eyes of the devil himself. He paled visibly and straightened his stance before marching off to patrol the gardens.

​

Sir Gregor Stormsent was not at his post as he should have been. Instead, he was having less than wholesome relations with a serving girl…and her sister. The sound of flesh slapping flesh and pleasured, girlish cries echoed from the wine cellar, but no one was around to hear them…hopefully.

Anna Victorian cast a heavy glance at her husband, who flushed innocently under the heat of it. "Lusty woman." He murmured as she slithered over to him. They had both found themselves in the kitchens and alone together for the first time since court had began. "We haven't the time Anna…" "Shhh." The younger woman murmured, already pushing her husband back on the bread counter. Victor yelped as his spry young wife pinned him there. It always happened like this.

 

[VengefulPeanut]

As the King continued with the formalities of his newfound romance, Robert stood on edge eying the nordling Bjarke. The man was an utter wildcard - there was no telling what he would do next. Thankfully, Arren was on hand should he need backup. Well, that was the plan, anyway, until a sheepish looking Lyle appeared in the far doorway. Robert furrowed his brow as his fellow Knight approached and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"There's something in the Kitchen," the young knight said with a sense of worried urgency.

"What do you mean something?" Robert responded.

"Look... I haven't looked yet but there's noises. Very strange noises. I can't find the others anywhere so you and Arren are my last chance." Robert crossed his arms before looking to Arren who nodded his head in understanding. With an elongated sigh, Robert followed Lyle away from the balcony and down towards the kitchens.

"What kind of noises are we dealing with here? Are you sure it's not just the ovens acting up again?" Robert asked, looking to his companion as he walked.

"If an oven can wail and screech and create loud bangs then I think we need them replacing..."

"Okay, that does sound odd," Robert agreed thoughtfully. It wasn't a long walk to the kitchens and as they approached the door, Robert too could hear the noises. Contorting his face in confusion he tried to identify what the noises could be to no avail. "Okay, we'll go in together," he commanded, an order to which Lyle eagerly nodded his head.

"Of course, but... you first..." he said fearfully.

"What are you scared of? You go first!"

"What if it's a ghost?"

"Oh, so you're throwing me to the dogs? Thank you!"

"Well you know what I mean!"

"Fine, I'll go first. On the count of three..." Both Robert and Lyle stacked up on the door and Robert wrapped his hand around the handle. "One... two... three..." On the go order the two knights barged through the door and rushed into the room, swords drawn. "In the name of the King put your hands in the-" Robert's barks were cut abruptly short as his cheeks went cherry red at the sight of Anna straddling Varric. Looking down towards the ground, he noticed Lyle gawping blatantly. "Anna... Varric... I am so sorry!" Robert gasped awkwardly, attempting to shield his view with his hands.

 

[malina]

It was just her luck that an actual Kingsguard would arrive on the scene. Marcella nodded and shook off the Clayburn's apologies before turning to face other man. "Dante Antolini. My name." She whispered. Though Marcella had known this would happen she still felt uneasy. Something didn't feel quite right. She cleared her throat, repeating what she'd said in a louder and more confident voice. "My name is Dante Antolini. I am here as an escort for the Lady Maria." She stiffened as he spoke of her Italian heritage and raked his eyes over her armour. There was no doubt he'd spot the ill fit - he was a Kingsguard after all. Armour to him was what dresses were for the princesses.

"I don't know what you mean by that." She murmured as he spoke of 'something else'. There was no way he could have known her secret, was there? Marcella's mind flashed back to the time she'd awoken at the inn with the window open - she'd thought nothing much of it then. But now under the man's scrutinizing gaze she found herself wondering. What little hair remained on her body stood up and she almost shuddered involuntarily. "You speak of Italy my friend. You may have not heard of me," she shrugged, "but surely you have heard of Lady Maria, no?" Marcella was banking on the Kingsguard's lack of knowledge of Italy's houses (or so she thought) and on Maria being a fairly common name. "We came here to enjoy the festivities of your court, not to be faced with your suspicion." Perhaps a little bluster would knock him off the trail.

 

[Lady Myst]

Serah frowned slightly while looking between her brother and the king. She felt that something she wasn't aware of was in the undercurrent of the conversation. She looked questioningly at Bjarke before focusing on the king again. She winced as talk turned to her dowery, the cost of the wedding and the rather paltry wedding gift Bjarke offered. It was obvious to everyone that the Northern man could not stand the Southern king. Serah felt trapped in the middle, trying to keep the peace between two testosterone driven males. She could only pray that she would not end up in the middle of a tug of war between the two. She could already envision each man holding one of her arms and pulling.
The tension in the air was palatable.

But despite the hidden insults and sublte jabs at each other at the end of it the king still seemed inclined to marry her, in fact only putting the wedding off by a fortnight, which wasn't a lot of time to prepare for a royal wedding. Her royal fiance even deemed to grant her request. She only hoped that whatever he planned, both for the ring and for the wedding, was not too over the top or extravegant. Serah perferred simple elegance over gaudy displays.

"Thank you sire," she said, standing after he did. "I appreciate your kindness and consideration."
His next statement took her by surprise yet again. The first of her wedding gifts? As in there was to be more? Maximus did indeed seem like a very generous host, but the last thing she wanted was to make the court think she was a gold digger. "I do not require much my king," she said. "Of course I am grateful for any gift you bestow upon me," she added with a smile, lest he think she was rejecting anything he offered.

In truth she wanted to meet his daughters, curious as to thier reaction to her and wishing to reassure them that she in no way wanted to take their mother's place or take their father away from them. Making friends with her fiance's daughters was something she held in high priority.

She looked out towards the gardens, a hint of a warm smile on her lips. Serah seemed like she didn't smile much, but that was because she saved her genuine smiles for things that deserved them. She was ready to prove that despite being from the cold North she was actually a warm person with plenty of love to give.

 

[GoodEveningClarice]

Maximus stood up and offered his arm to Serah. "Your modesty is both refreshing and unnecessary my dear." He smirked and waited for Bjarke to follow before leading Serah out towards the gardens. Whispers broke out around them as they walked. Some where cheerful, others sour, but Maximus only smile and nodded to those who bowed as they passed. "Your long golden hair is something a legend, Lady Serah. It is always mentioned when you come up so I thought you deserved something golden for yourself." He walked her near the stables where a magnificent golden horse stood waiting.

The mare was perfectly formed, tall with a gleaming coat. She tossed her mane as they approached and continued prancing in the small enclosure she was being kept in. "A genuine Fairway horse. One of the finest fillies The Summer House has bred in years. She was fathered by one of my own studs, Striker, whose like has not been seen. She arrived only this morning from The Summer House with my knights. I'm sure you brought a heavy Northern horse but the poor creature will suffer if it has a thick coat." He made a clicking noise with his tongue and mare trotted near, reaching over to nose at Maximus, probably looking for a treat. "She's very sweet but very, very fast." He guided Serah's hand to the horse's nose. "She's not yet been named, I thought you would want the privilege."

While they chatted, Lilith approached from the garden, Eli tagging along behind her. She curtsied to Bjarke, ignorant or uncaring to the grass and flowers in her hair. "Is this her father?" Maximus turned and smirked. "Serah, this is my youngest daughter Lilith." Lilith smiled brightly and bowed dramatically. "Welcome to court My Lady. I hope my father hasn't been too obnoxious or over the top. I'm sure you'll find he only becomes less charming the more time you spend with him." She grinned and the king could only laugh. "We're still talking business my dear." Lilith rolled her eyes but nodded and smiled at Serah before flitting away to cause more trouble. "She is a handful." He looked back at the horse who still stood expectedly awaiting a treat.

​