There's Not Enough Love, and No One to Give It to

"I will miss you as well," He admitted, but did not echo her other sentiments. If he had his way, he might never see her again. It was too much risk, too much danger, too much intrigue and betrayal for him by half. It wasn't the sort of relationship he wanted, not the sort of life he could live. He was too old and too set in his ways. When the door shut behind him, he strode off to lunch resolute to never again be tempted. Of course, he made the same vows every time he left her...

"Oh, relying on a mage for sanity. There's a great idea, love," he laughed, kissing the younger man back not near as lightly. The bed was so close, so tempting... but he daren't make his lover late, not again. Instead, with a wicked smile he trailed his hand down Sam's side, then over his hip, fingers gentle and teasing. It was cruel, he knew, to get the boy started and leave, but the thought of the young nobleman squirming as he tried to converse normally with his future betrothed was just too tempting. "You're going to be late," he murmured after a moment, drawing away. "Don't let me keep you."

Her arms instantly crossed in front of her chest. "No," The Archmage replied, her voice cold and unyielding. "When it came time to put something between my legs, you always had the time. Well, guess what. You put something in, you get something out. Make time." She hated talking with him, hated the reminder of how stupid she had been to trust him. He had only wanted her for a good tumble, only wanted her to kill his enemy for him. Not that she wouldn't have been okay with either one of those things, but she would have been smarter about it if she'd known he had every intention of leaving her as soon as the battle was done. "He's your son as much as mine, unfortunately, and I'll be damned if I let you cast him aside like you do everyone else you can't manipulate anymore."
 
After ten minutes, Nyameh left the bathroom, her hair tied up. She had to go meet the queen since she had requested lunch together. Why she would do that, she wasn't sure. Maybe she wanted to intimidate her. Maybe she just wanted to have a nice lunch with some company. Whatever it was, it scared her and made her nervous. She wanted to stay with the knight, hide away from the world. Alas, she could not.

Sam sighed. "I'll see you again, I'm sure." He said, giving his lover one last kiss before heading off to the rose garden. Again he was trying to suppress the heat that was running through him at the thought of his lover touching him, loving him. He shook his head. He needed to woo this girl. If he did, he would be out of his mother's grasp and he could continue to love his lover in secret, even if he wished that it was in the open and accepted.

Zephaniah folded his hands, keeping a calm demeanor. "Fine. I'll tell you this. If your child is born before the queen's then he will be the next in line for the throne. However, if the queen's child comes before yours, he will be the next in line for the throne. However, if your child is a girl and the queen's is a boy then the boy will be the next king. The same goes for if the situation was reversed. Are you satisfied with this, Caeca?" He asked, his eyes tired and full of suppressed self-hatred. He truly did love the archmage, but he needed a queen and the woman would not wake up from the coma. The fates were just cruel to him.
 
Giselle had dressed for lunch in pink and peach, colors that flattered her complexion and made her look not quite so pale and sallow. Once, Giselle had been quite a beauty, but she was older now and the plainness of her features was beginning to leak through. While the blonde hair and bright eyes could do many things for a young woman, for an older woman they only showed how far she had fallen. After all, her son was two-and-twenty, and she had borne him at seventeen herself. Nine-and-thirty was old, old for a woman to be pregnant, old for a queen, old old old. Nyameh was not so young herself, but she was still fair and of a better child-bearing age.
It would take a lot to get through the meal, but she wanted to see Nyameh, to judge her on a personal note. After she stole the support of house Montressor, she would reassess and see how shaken she had made her enemy. Surely the Vatrix claim could not be widely supported, could not be strong.

"Quite sure," Ferox agreed, waiting several minutes before taking his own leave.

In her own rooms, Venatora Montressor prepared herself for the meeting with a solemn face and stiff upper lip. She was a young woman, still full of fire and venom and ambition. Her house was an old one, but had more pride than gold, more blue blood than blooded soldiers. The family holdings were small, the family fortune smaller, and the family line itself the smallest still. Her father and brother were the only men who still had the name Montressor. After their feud with a rival family ended a generation past, both houses had retreated to lick their wound and swell their ranks. This marriage, with any luck, would see them through on the winning side in both conflicts.
She was beautiful in a cold way, with pale, freckled skin and hair with the rich, true red that so few people could claim. It was neither carroty nor bronzed but bright and fierce, dark enough at the root to almost be mahogany. Her eyes were catlike green, her nose was straight and sharp, her lips were thin but soft, her brows arched elegantly. Tall and thin, she was graceful, poised, and above all she was ruthless. There was no soft edge on her, nothing that promised mercy or kindness.
Wearing deep green velvet and cream lace, she made her way out into the gardens through lesser-used and secret passages that newer, less trusted nobility would never know of. It was, of course, raining, but she had the sense of mind to bring a cloak with her and huddled in it as she headed towards the small pavilion in the center of the rose garden where they were supposed to eat lunch.

Suddenly, a smile lit Cae's face. He had not even met Giselle for perhaps three weeks to a month after she had fallen pregnant; unless some freak accident caused the queen to give birth early it was an arrangement the Archmage was sure to win. This had been much easier than she had anticipated.
"A wise choice, your grace," She replied smoothly, her smile fading but her face still bright. Well, the side that was whole, at least. Her scars still lingered and warped every smile to a twisted grin. "Your son and I both thank you. I will leave you to your oh-so-important paperwork now." This would doubtlessly piss of Giselle, which only made it all the better. She wondered if Zephaniah was irritating his wife on purpose- by all accounts, there was no love lost between them. In spite of herself, Caeca was mad at that, too. How dare he deceive her and then be honest with the blonde bitch from the first?
 
As she walked toward the queen, Nyameh let no emotion betray her in her face. She held her head high and showed confidence in her walk. When she reached the queen, she curtsied. "Your majesty. It is my pleasure to have lunch with you." She stood back up before waiting for permission to take a seat at the table, as she would often do when visiting a noble family. Only show them your best. She thought. Betray any kind of emotion that they are not pleased with and you will fail. She was still.

Sam was waiting for the girl underneath the pavilion, a coat keeping him warm. He waited for her to walk up before pulling out a sit for her. "Lady Venatora." He greeted. "I'm glad that we are able to have lunch together." He kept his tone polite as he seated her before seating himself, pouring her a glass to drink and pouring some for himself.

Zephaniah was glad that the woman had finally left. He returned to his paperwork, hoping and praying to god that everything would turn out alright.
 
"No, the pleasure is all mine. Please, sit," Giselle relied graciously, a small smile on her lips. The art of feigned emotion had been taught to her by a man's fist, and she was only too good at looking pleased when she was anything but. "We haven't had the chance to chat... well, since all of this happened. I hope you have no hard feelings. I know that some said you had a claim to be a queen in your own right." One of those someones had been Nyameh herself, Giselle knew that perfectly well, but it was usually best to keep things civil. Just then the appetizer arrived, and she waited for the other woman's reply while nibbling on a salad made of cranberries, nuts, and honey.

She nodded politely, sizing him up as she took the offered seat. "Thank you for lunch, good sir," the young woman replied smoothly, taking a sip of wine and resisting the urge to snurl her nose. The Montressor holdings were small, yes, but they were in the heart of arbor country. After sipping amontillado of fine vintage last night, the swill that passed for wine on this table did not overly please the young woman- not that many things pleased her, overly or otherwise...
After finishing her studies, she made a quick decision to get the farce over with. "I am going to be honest with you. Don't bother wooing me. You couldn't possibly interest me if you tried; if I wanted a charming young man I wouldn't be here. What I want is what you dear mother wants. Power. Prestige. Wealth. Respect. You can get me these things," She explained, "And in return I will manage it all. Believe me, I can run a fief better than most men, yourself likely included. In all honesty, I have no problem letting you stay at court with... who or what ever interests you here after we are wed and I am with child. As soon as my belly starts to swell I will return to our lands, and govern them in your stead, since you are so needed at court. A few times a year we can spend some time together, drink a little wine and lose our minds a bit, and I'll get you a nice litter of children. Do you find this scenario objectionable?"
 
Nyameh gave a small smile before sitting down. She chuckled. "Yes, well... I'm starting to second-guess the validity of those claims." She said, taking a small bite of the salad. She looked up at the queen. "Your pregnancy has been going well, I assume." She glanced down at the woman's stomach, taking another bite of salad. She felt tense, but on the outside she looked completely calm and relaxed.

Sam, after hearing the girl explain why she was even bothering with him, chuckled. "I can see why my mother likes you. I think I can agree to that." He said, taking a sip of the wine. He couldn't wait to get back to Ferox. This girl was so much like his mother, they could have been blood related if not for the physical appearance. He continued to eat a bit, waiting to leave and talk to his lover about what had transpired.
 
Giselle tittered as well, watching Nyameh carefully. "Oh, we all are, dear," She assured the younger woman, her tone sweet but her words pointed. She would not tolerate any scheming power-grabs. Not a one. "I can feel my son growing by the day. He'll be a strong man, just like his father. I remember seeing Zephaniah, when he was first presented to the court... I was just a girl then. One of your lady mother's companions, actually," The queen mentioned. She wondered if it was too much of a hint as to her plans for Sam... but it was a risk worth taking. The young lady ought to be reminded that there were forces at work older and more powerful than herself.

"Good," She replied bluntly. "I don't really need your cooperation, but it does make things much easier. We can be partners, perhaps even friends, over time. As for your lovers, just keep them under wraps. If I don't see or hear about it, I don't care what you do. In all honesty I bullshit my way through every interaction at court, so I'll be as blunt and frank with you as I can. Don't get in the way, help me if I need it, and for the love of god try not to embarrass anyone, especially myself. Now, I believe I was promised lunch?"
 
"I see..." Nyameh sipped on her drink, quiet. She didn't talk for the rest of the meal, keeping her thoughts to herself. She had much to think about, and felt quite alone at the moment. After the meal was finished, Nyameh stood up. "Thank you for the meal, your majesty, but I am afraid I must leave. I have promised to help a local farm house count their chicks." She curtsied before leaving, glad that the awkward lunch was over with. Doubts started to return to her mind as she thought about why she wanted the power anyway. What could she gain by going up against the king and queen? Who was she to even try to run a kingdom? She held her arms as she grabbed a cloak and headed toward the farm.

Sam nodded and opened a small tray containing the meals. He handed the lady her plate before taking his own. He made sure to be on his best behavior in front of the girl, though his thoughts were on what he was going to tell Ferox when he next saw him. This girl before him was worse than his mother! And that was saying quite a lot. He ate in silence.
 
"Enjoy your... outing," Giselle replied, unable to hide the edge of contempt in her voice. Counting chicks? What was she, a farmgirl? The young lady was clearly not the sort to run a kingdom. Why had she even worried about this? Caeca was the true enemy. She would have to see about recruiting Nyameh instead... while a little dense, her supporters could only too easily go to the Archmage if they did not choose Giselle.

Rolling her eyes at his silence, Venatora ate most of her own meal, picking around anything she didn't like and studiously cutting away any fat or gristle from her meat. Food was as much of an exact science as social politics, in her world. Really, there weren't many things that she didn't plan in meticulous detail. "You know, you could at least pretend to be happy about this arrangement," The young woman mentioned. "I'm giving you a free pass to be yourself, even to take a lover, while I do all the hard work and grow your family fortune. Is there something about this you find objectionable?"
 
Nyameh smiled at the farmer when she reached the barn. He beckoned her in and she followed, reaching the small part of the barn that was the warmest, where he kept the chicks. She helped him count, taking away the two that had died. She held their lifeless bodies in her hands, biting her bottom lip when she felt just how cold they were. Would her soldier end up like this if they were found out? Lifeless, cold, his warm and strong touch no longer able to keep her warm. She looked over at the farmer who pointed to a small hole for the bodies to be buried. Nyameh kneeled down setting the two chicks into the hole. Her gloved hands pushed the dirt over the hole, burying the bodies into the ground. "If I lose any more, I won't have a profit." The farmer said with a click of his tongue.

Sam shook his head. "No, I am simply enjoying your lovely presence." He replied, looking her straight in the eye as he lied through his teeth. He was getting better at telling such fibs as he had grown up. Now he was a near master. He continued to eat with the girl until they were both done. "Well, I believe this has been successful. I look forward to meeting you again." He bowed and waited for her to leave first before heading back to his room to get his training clothes on.
 
She snorted, seeing right through him. "You're a fairly good liar," The young woman admitted, watching his retreating frame. "But you ought to choose more convincing lies." His attitude irked her. What more did he expect? She had given him what any man should want. Freedom, no real responsibility, without even the price of having to deal with her. Yet he acted as though she were punishing him, torturing him even! What did he expect?



Later that evening, a meeting of the High Council was convened. Or, at least, what they had of a high council. Everyone who had been on it when Isolden was king had been fired, leaving several positions vacant. As Archmage, Caeca had a position of honor next to Ector, who was both Commander of the Royal Guard and High General of the Army. They sat to Zephaniah's right, as befitted the militaristic branches. On the left, two vacant seats were present for the High Treasurer and Ambassador General. And directly across from Zephaniah, the final two vacant seats presented themselves: Spymaster and Lawmaster.
As so many seats were vacant, others had been invited to aid in the decision-making process. Nyameh, Ferox, and Giselle were there, along with Lord Mansus Montressor, father to Venatora, and a handful of other dignitaries of varying importance.
All of them would be competing to fill the seats. Not every seat would be filled that day, most likely, but they would do their best. Without a small council, repairing the kingdom was at a standstill.
 
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Zephaniah looked over the people at the council. They'd have to fill seats sometime and they might as well get started tonight. He sighed. "Well, let's get it over with and begin this meeting." He leaned back in his seat, watching the others with a keen eye. He was sure something was going to happen tonight, and it had better be something productive.

Nyameh kept a pokerface and good attitude about her even though inside she was a nervous wreck. Second-guessing, hidden feelings, the feeling of not belonging even though she had grown up in this sort of environment all haunted her. Troubles whirled past her mind, every what if and if only speeding through and processing in her brain as she kept her attitude completely and utterly calm. She would be fine. She would hopefully make it through this meeting without either a mental or physical scar to boot.
 
"I suppose we should begin with the selection of the High Treasurer?" Ector began, glancing around the room. It was the mot contested position, and he didn't doubt that it would give them the most trouble... specifically because of who was wanting it. These sorts of decisions were meant to be about the best person for the job, but they always wound up being a game of social power and influence.

"Ought to be easy. I am the obvious choice," Giselle replied smoothly.

"But, my queen, are your duties not already burden enough?" The Lord Montressor questioned, sounding genuinely concerned. "What with your son, your pregnancy, and all the socio-political tasks that a queen must do, I can't imagine adding treasurer to the list!"

Then both glanced around, curious to see if there would be another claim.
 
"The Lord is right, my dear Queen. Perhaps someone with more time to focus on the job should be the treasurer." Nyameh stated, looking over the others. "I think that I would be a better candidate for treasurer. It would keep one more responsibility off of your shoulders, Queen Giselle." She sat with a straight back, emminating confidence and poise.

Zephaniah looked over the two women and the Lord, curious and a bit worried about what would happen.
 
Caeca grit her teeth. She liked none of the candidates. Giselle was certainly not an option, but she daren't support Nyameh either, not with her claim to the throne still in the picture. "The Lord Montressor has long been known as a friend of the crown," She decided after a moment. "And you have been Lord for... two decades now?"

"Indeed, my lady. Our finances have done well in all that time, and our taxation record is forthwith," He confirmed humbly.

Giselle felt the pressure closing in. No one else in the room would see her treasurer, not even the scheming Montressor. Well. She might as well graciously admit defeat. "I am touched by the concern my friends show me," She put in after a moment, resting a hand over her heart. "I shall yield my request to Lord Montressor. While the Lady Vatrix is most sharp, Montressor does have the advantage of experience. His record is long and spotless, a hard thing to beat."

Then the room looked to Ector, who resisted the urge to crawl beneath the table. "I am a knight, good Lords," He prefaced, stalling as he considered his options. He dared not support Nyameh openly, though he trusted this Montressor not an inch. "And this is not my area of knowledge. But it seems to me that this country is being ruled by the younger generation, by those with long futures, not long pasts. While Lord Mansus is a fine choice, I would not so quickly dismiss the Lady Nyameh."
 
Zephaniah thought for a moment. As king he did get the final say... He thought over the comments. Maybe he should keep his friends close... and his enemies closer. "I believe that Lady Vatrix would be best served as treasurer. Now onto the next position..." He left no room for argument, reading off the next position and leaving it up to his fellow court members to decide who wanted what and who was best served where. He had a strange feeling about his decision, feeling that it may help him in the end instead of hurting him.

Nyameh internally sighed in relief. She would have to thank Ector for helping her, even if it was because he did not trust the other candidate. The king always listened to him above anyone else, which was something to be feared and trusted. If Ector had told the king that his best move was to enslave the farmers, he would without a second glance. His majesty put almost too much trust in his knight. She watched the others, wondering just what exactly would happen next.
 
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