Love & War [Closed] - Printable Version

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Love & War [Closed] - megs - 12-16-2016

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RE: Love & War [Closed] - megs - 12-18-2016

Her Royal Majesty, 51st Viridescent Monarch Julianna Drusilla Rylan Maxillion of House Darkwillow, Queen of Veridian, woke before the sun. As she always did.

There was some small part of her that wanted to burrow beneath the blankets, fall back asleep and ignore the day, but there was a larger part forcing her awake and reminding her that she had things to do. As if to compromise these conflicting feelings, she rolled over and stared up at apex of the canopy that cascaded heavy drapes around her large bed. Eyes the felt heavy with the remaining vestiges of sleep easily adjusted to the darkness, her sight sharpened until she could almost make out the patterned filigree of the fabric. A high-pitched noise sounded in her throat as she complained to no one. Crickets and night birds still sang a chorus outside the open doors of her balcony, she knew the sounds would fade with the oncoming dawn.

Julianna sighed, limbs shifted across cool silken sheets as she lengthened her body in a stretch. Hands pushed above her head, pressing against the ornately carved wood of the headboard. Her feet encountered a large, warm lump at the foot of her bed that rolled over onto her toes. A protest from her dog, Starling, who seemed no more eager to wake than she.

Another sigh as she pulled her arms and legs back to her body. Starling wiggled closer, snuggling against her side for attention. She laughed lightly, drawing fingers lazily over his head. Not long after, silver furred feline ears twitched atop her head to the sound of heavy chamber doors being pushed open and gently closed again. Muted footsteps drew closer to the side of the bed, stopping just outside of the barrier of drapes. Julianna’s eyes rolled to the side just in time to see a pale hand peek through the part in the curtains. Slender fingers curled around the forest green linen and they pushed to the side and the face of her handmaiden, Maeve, was revealed. Strong and lovely Eskran features were illuminated by the candle she held with the opposite hand.

“Good morning, your majesty,” she said, pleasantly, not bothering to check if her charge was actually awake. Julianna pushed herself up on her elbows, and watched as the other woman moved around the bed, and opened the rest of the curtains. Starling rolled back over and lifted his head as well, observing in much the same manner.

“Good morning, Maeve,” she mumbled, eyes still tracking the blonde curls that fell down Maeve’s back as she attended to the rest of her morning ritual. Lanterns were lit, lighting the rest of the room with a yellow glow.

Maeve had been attending to Julianna for years now, and admittedly she did not know much about her. Liberated from the slave trade, and voluntary placed into Julianna’s service, the queen didn’t even know if she had a last name. In the lantern light, Julianna could see the slave brands on Maeve’s left arm, revealed by the short sleeves of her gauzy green gown. Different symbols to indicate different details that might interest a slave trader.

“Breakfast, your majesty?”

Maeve’s words drew green eyes back to her face, and Julianna hummed as if she had not heard her. “Not today, thank you.” She threw back the covers and let her legs hang over the edge of the bed. She stood, another whining complaint as her feet met cold marble. Maeve moved in front of her, kneeling to gather the fabric of the nightgown that fell to her feet. In a swift movement, it was lifted above her head revealing caramel skin and darker spots, reminiscent of a jaguar or some large jungle cat, the color coffee that trailed down her left side. The dress was deposited on the bed.

“How do you feel about the green Sorenson gown, your grace?”

“I would prefer my leathers please. I will be leaving the estate today.”

Maeve frowned, but moved across the room to fulfill the quest nonetheless. “Are you sure that’s wise? You’re expecting visitors.”

“The staff is prepared for them.”

“Yes, but imagine how it will look if you are not here to greet them personally.” Maeve returned with beige breeches and a white blouse. She dropped the shirt over Julianna’s head without much ceremony, leaving her to adjust it for herself. She handed off the breeches.

“Imagine how it will look if I appear to be waiting eagerly at the gates for a man who intends to be my suitor.” Her voice wavered as she danced and wiggled into the tight pants until they settled on her hips. Her tail twitched in a frenzy behind her knees. Tossing black waves over her shoulder, Julianna tugged and tightened the leather cords. As soon as she finished, Maeve was wrapping a cincher around her waist, forcing Julianna to lift her arms and wait as she was imprisoned within the tight corset.

“Are we in a hurry?” Jules mused, wincing as Maeve pulled at the laces. She laughed, and Maeve tugged again to silence her. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” A tight-lipped reply at her back.

Julianna didn’t pry, she allowed the silence that fell between them as Maeve continued to help her dress in heavy wool socks that would protect her feet from the leather boots that climbed upward towards her knees.

She sat at the vanity, watching as Maeve brushed her hair. They were opposites in the mirror. Maeve was very Eskran, tall and pale with a build that conveyed her strength. Julianna, herself, was the picture of a Veridian woman. Cat-like features aside, she was darker in skin and hair. Noticeably shorter, curved and somehow softer looking than her companion. Maeve tied her hair into a complicated looking braid, that she wrapped into an even more complicated looking bun at the base of her neck, that she secured with an ungodly amount of pins.

“I will have Sairus and Coltrane prepare for your leave, and I must implore that you have some breakfast before your ride.”

“Thank you, Maeve.”

When Julianna reached the stables the sun was just beginning to peak. The sky was cast in reds and oranges and dotted with heavy pink cloud. With Starling obediently at her heels, she was begrudgingly nibbling at half of a mango, when She found her guard captain, Sairus, and his lieutenant, Col, waiting for her. They’d prepared their horses as well as her own. Julianna tossed the remains of the fruit and shook the juice off of her hand before moving to pet the sturdy stallion. All black from mane to tail and appropriately name Onyx.

“Good morning, gentleman,” she cooed, as if she were talking to the stallion and not the two guards standing nearby. They bowed and voiced their own pleasantries, simultaneously. Her hand moved along the horse and she came to its side. Lifting a foot she hooked it into a stirrup and easily lifted herself up and onto the horse.

“Are you sure you want to ride, your majesty? Your guests-”

“I see you’ve already spoken to Maeve,” she interrupted Sairus with a sharp retort. Her green eyes narrowed as they dropped to look at him where he still stood next to Col.

The guards exchanged guilty glances, armor pieces scraping as they shifted uncomfortably. Julianna pulled the reins, leading Onyx in a tight half circle and directing him towards the stable exit. Clearly, she was not interested in further discussion on whether she should or should not leave the estate. The guards were forced to quickly mount and follow after her, under the threat of being left behind.

Julianna was not usually so impatient. Her heels dug into Onyx’s side as she urged him into a gallop. She could just barely make out the sound of hoof beats and Starling excited barking behind her with the wind rushing past her ears. Her rides were usually more casual, controlled, but today she felt an inexplicable urgency. A need to escape. She wanted to get away from the estate, and she vaguely felt like she was running from something.

And she was. Fleeing from the pressure that came with the arrival of her visitor. A prince from Delanveaux, a small nation to the west. A potential suitor. There were expectations that she would have to navigate in the coming weeks that set her pulse to racing and turned her blood to ice in her veins. For now, she just wanted to be able to breathe. While she had the chance.

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RE: Love & War [Closed] - saronym - 12-23-2016

The High Emperor of Eskra, Owen Reinhold Jorn Avald Hartwydt, Arbiter of Desdemona, and Son of Orelia was on the march with a company of men large enough to trigger a reasonable suspicion that they were an army.

The infamous emperor was on a tour of sorts orchestrated by his trusted advisors. A peace-making tour. Almost. Perhaps more of an amour-making tour. He had been advised by his chosen deputy Grand Master Holland Rivers that it was about time he put a pause on outward expansion of his empire through force. And thus began the canvas for a suitable wife for the unwed emperor.

What better way to acquire more resources than strategical matrimony?

The emperor’s temper - naturally haughty and violent - did not take well with the occupation of playing suitor to a series of eager, yet bratty, princesses and their desperate fathers. The process of courtship he endured with little of the solemn resignation expected of a man during such proceedings, which was not surprising to those familiar with his natural temper. Many of his so-called intendeds found him either cold and indifferent or too intensely vivacious to tolerate. Even so, wherever Owen traveled with his company, he left behind the local populace with fat wallets and stories of a lavish emperor full of facetious humor and generous with his coin. His reputation often preceded him, for better or worse.

On the day they were to conclude their travels at their next stop, Owen dressed in a way befit a emperor arriving to make an impression upon a monarch. In the capital city of Eyra, he would present himself to the unwed Queen of Veridian.

He was adorned in a rich navy and gold brocade tunic over which was his dress body armor - an intricately woven chocolate colored leather strip armor covering his chest and shoulders. Gold decoration on the chest piece was in the shape of his family crest, a shield with a bear claw in the middle and crossed swords behind framed by laurels in green. The strip armor extended down his thighs which were covered beneath by fitted riding trousers tucked into knee-high riding boots. A heavy navy blue cloak with shimmering gold interior lining was pinned by a gold brooch on his left shoulder in the shape of a crown.

The emperor, though certainly a boastful man who expected to be addressed in a way that suited his station, nonetheless refused to wear a crown. He instead had amassed a collection of crown-shaped brooches that he used to clasp together his cloaks or to ornament a lapel when he went without a cloak. The emperor’s head wasn’t absent of gold as he wore golden blonde hair in messy curls at his shoulders, in addition to a finely sculpted full beard. It would be easy to notice that the emperor had more time dedicated to his beard maintenance than his hair if the unruliness of his curls were any telling sign.

Owen left the bulk of his company outside the port city gates, where they began forming an encampment. If it had not been for the forged invitation he bore to gain passage into Eyra, then it might have appeared as if a siege was to begin shortly outside the walls. No siege weapons were erected, only a vast, but orderly, camp of tents, dotted with bonfires and corralled horses. No drums of war sounded, only the excited yelling and laughing of the men eager to finish camp and drink in the city.

The emperor, after gaining passage to the city, proceeded to the castle through the crowded streets with a large entourage that drew the eye. His company included advisors, his personal guardsmen in full battle regalia, and standard bearers showcasing the Eskran empire’s flag with the depiction of a wolverine, claws and teeth on display, climbing on a helmet.

Owen stopped the group in the courtyard and waited to be addressed by the Queen’s staff. His black stallion pranced, shaking its head, and snorting loudly in impatience - a fitting horse for the vivacious emperor. He pulled back on the reigns and patted the horse’s neck whispering some words of encouragement in Eskran to the animal.

From a velvet bag on his saddle Holland produced a folded paper with an impressive forgery of the seal of the Queen of Veridian on it. A personal invitation to the Emperor himself to wait upon her. And here he was satisfying her request for the 'honor of his presence,' as the note said.

Owen did not wait for the note to be received or reviewed, he dismounted and passed the reigns of his horse off to a guardsman who had approached in curiosity. He pulled leather riding gloves from his fingers and stuffed them into his belt.

“Inform the Queen of my arrival. She will receive me now.” He gave this instruction to the same man he had handed off the reigns to. It begged the question of whether the Emperor expected the man to take care of his horse and announce his presence simultaneously. Owen did not care that these things conflicted or that he had no control over when a Queen would or would not receive him. He was used to getting his way and didn't bother with how those around him orchestrated that.

Holland smiled apologetically from a top his own mount. Leather creaked as he shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and waited to hand off the invitation to whomever would be responsible for it’s review. "The High Emperor of Eskra, Owen Reinhold Jorn Avald Hartwydt, to wait upon the Queen." He announced Owen's presence.

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RE: Love & War [Closed] - megs - 12-24-2016

Maeve would never admit it aloud, but sometimes she preferred when the Queen decided to take some away from the castle. Even when it was outside of her best interests. It was not that Maeve bore any ill will towards her majesty, it was just a simple fact that she got more work done when the queen was away.

Which is exactly what she did. In the queen’s chambers, Maeve stripped the bed of its dressings, and fitted it with new ones in a deep purple color. She opened the balcony doors and let the ocean breeze carry away the stale air that had settled in the room overnight. Maeve moved through the castle, silently and expertly attending to the chores assigned to her. Other servants bustled to and fro in much the same manner. The staff of the Darkwillow Estate moved like a well-oiled machine, because nothing ever really changed in the day to day.

As the sun rose, a stifling heat rose with it. Despite the openness of the castle and the wind from the ocean, the feeling was noticeable. Or perhaps it was just noticeable to Maeve. Despite her having spent many years in Veridian, she was simply built for the colder Eskran weather. Sweat clung to her skin and caused tight ringlets to stick to her forehead and the back of her neck. She huffed as she carried an armload of linens down to the laundry. If nothing else, Maeve could be thankful that it was a dry sort of heat.

She handed her load off to the cleaning staff and took a moment to breathe. With her hands she pushed her hair away from her neck, piling it on top of her head and stretched out her back. Maeve had just closed her eyes for a moment of peace when an agitated foot messenger burst forth into the room. His eyes scanned to and fro quickly, until he spotted her on the opposite end of it.

“Lady Maeve!”

She dropped her hair as he approached, and she perked a curious eyebrow as he stood in front of her and took a moment to catch his breath. “Soldiers approach the outskirts of town,” he informed her. “At least nine companies of men. Maybe more.”

Maeve was unmoved. She resisted the urge to sarcastically shrug her shoulders. “We’re expecting the Prince from Delanveaux,” she replied. “Though, I don’t understand why he would need-”

“Their banners don’t fly the Delanveaux lilies,” he informed her.

Her brow furrowed. “What do they fly?”

“The Eskran wolverine.”

Her breath caught. She took pause with the feeling of a chill down her spine. Not this, she pleaded to no one. Not now. She crossed her arms to hide the tremble in her hands. “Has anyone spoken to them? Who is leading them? What do they want?”

“They accompany the High Emperor. He comes bearing an invitation from the queen.”

Violet eyes widened, mouth parted but closed again without saying anything. The High Emperor of Eskra? In Veridian? How absurd. An invitation from the queen? Unlikely, as she had not been told anything of it. Maeve hummed, both curious and distraught.

Pulling a gold coin from the satchel at her waist, she pressed it into the palm of the messenger. “Find the queen,” she demanded. He pocketed his earnings and took off with an eager nod.

Maeve all but ran from the laundry, barking orders to the staff as she made her way to her own chambers. She rallied guards and servants to their places to receive the emperor, who would no doubt make his way directly to the castle. In her rooms, she quickly changed out of the simple white robes she wore for work. She wiped sweat and grime from her skin with a wet cloth, before adorning an elaborate dress in a vibrant green that was more befitting of the queen’s right hand. An empire waist and a sweetheart neckline did wonders for her figure, not that she was concerned with that. The longer sleeves, though gauzy, did better to hide the brands on her left arm. She pushed curls away from her face and pinned them with a matching comb that dazzled with emeralds. She stepped into green slippers and left the room just as quickly as she had come into it.

She could hear the excited murmurs of the staff that was caused by the emperors approach. Maeve worked on fastening an intricate brooch to her bodice. It depicted a sunburst behind a single open eye and signified her place at the queen’s side, and her authority of the household.

“Back to work all of you!” she snapped, before she moved towards the castle’s courtyard, motioning to two guards to follow her. With a deep, solidifying breath she made it to the front gates just in time to watch the emperor and his entourage approach. She stood, steadfast with her chin high and her eyes locked on the foreign company. Her mouth felt dry, and she ran her tongue across her bottom lip. Nervously, she eyed the tall black stallion at the head of the pack. And the taller man that rode in on it. She took the time to glance over him while she did not have to be subtle about it. He did not look as if he was hostile.

But looks meant nothing.

And his reputation preceded him.

For better or worse.

Maeve waited for the emperor to dismount before she approached them. When he did, she stopped short and bowed politely in the Veridian manner. Really more of a dip than a full bow, one foot tucked behind the other. She lowered both her chin and her eyes with the movement, but only briefly. When her gaze returned to his, she immediately found his height to be overwhelming. “Your majesty,” she greeted in the common tongue. It would have been better of her to use Eskran, since she knew the language, but she chose not to for, admittedly selfish, reasons. “A pleasure to receive your presence in Veridian.”

Her eyes and her attention switched to the man, still mounted, who had spoken. She skirted around the emperor with another polite nod of her head and moved close enough to take the letter from the dark haired man with her outstretched hand. She pretended to read the words while inspecting other parts of the invitation. The green wax of the seal was off; very close, but not quite perfect. She fingered the parchment, which was the correct quality, but Julianna’s ‘O’s were typically much softer. Overall, an impressive forgery, but a forgery nonetheless.

Maeve forced a smile. “A guest of the queen,” she mused. “Wonderful.” Despite her position she did not have the authority to send them away, and she wouldn’t risk an altercation before they’d been given the chance to explain their intentions.

“The queen is off the castle grounds at the moment,” she informed them, folding up the letter and tucking it away in her sash. “I, of course, welcome you and extend the castle's hospitality on her behalf. My name is Maeve; I am Queen Julianna's handmaiden. Chambers have been prepared for your arrival.” A half-truth, suites had been prepared, but for a very different guest. “Our stable hands will attend to your mounts, and our stewards will have your belongings delivered to your rooms.”

With a simple wave of her hand she directed the guards that had accompanied her to see that these promises she made were quickly fulfilled.

“You must be famished from your journey,” she lilted pleasantly, returning to her position before the emperor. “Allow me the delight of inviting you to the banquet hall, your majesty. Food and wine have been prepared in light of your arrival.”

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RE: Love & War [Closed] - saronym - 12-24-2016

Owen remained still while a blonde woman approached him. His hand rested casually on the hilt of a short sword - more for decoration by the ornate handle and scabbard - while she performed civilities that were due to him by his rank. A curt nod of his head signaled his acknowledgement of her respectful address to him. Blonde brows pulled towards one another in a subtle frown as he immediately recognized her accent.

He ‘humphed’ in a growling sort of way in the back of his throat at her welcoming of him to Veridian, as he had concluded they were not so welcome. Not the woman could say such a thing to him. His eyes tracked her as she moved to accept the invitation from his deputy who leaned down in his saddle to hand it to her.

Owen remained silent still as she explained her position and the absence of the queen. The Emperor wasn’t pleased. His free hand spread outwards in a gesture of frustration to Holland. “A handmaid.” He complained as if the woman weren't standing before them. The Emperor had yet to have suffered to be greeted by someone so ‘lowly’ as he would consider a handmaid. Usually a deputy, a lead steward, the head of a household guard. Someone important addressed the Emperor. Not handmaidens.

Holland quickly dismounted, landing gracefully on stone underfoot.

“Thank you Miss Maeve for extending us the Queen’s humbling generosities.” He bowed his head politely to the attractive blonde trying to smooth over the displeasure of the Emperor. Apparently it wasn’t good enough to the fiesty leader to be given access to a city and castle under a false invitation. Holland having also pegged Maeve for Eskran, worried at what Owen must think of one of their own in service to a foreign queen. “We will certainly find ourselves comfortable and would very much enjoy a good meal, won’t we My Lord?” The young adviser baited the Emperor, subtly reminding him of their station as guests.

“Yes. Yes.” Owen mumbled. He snapped his fingers and the men who hand accompanied him began dismounting and moving about. Some actually took up posts as if to secure the castle for him. Others moved to his side, flanking him, as he waited to be led into the castle.

“Strafford!” The emperor barked a name, which produced a bright eyed guardsman ready to accept his instructions. “Go to camp and tell the officers they will dine with me. Tell them to bring me some ice for fucksake." The Emperor was soaked with sweat beneath his armor. He could feel it pooling at the small of his back. "Give the men have leave to go into the city as they wish. Remind them they are to pay for all services and goods they enjoy while we are here. No exceptions. No foreigners in camp. Understood?”

“Of course, My Lord.” The man took his leave of the Emperor, remounted his horse, and rode off back into town at a gallop.

The Emperor gave his directives and turned back to Maeve. “There will be twenty five additional guests when my officers arrive. I trust you will make the proper arrangements. I will be relieved of my armor first and we’ll take supper when I’m ready.” He waved his hand that she should lead on, but captured her arm and used his index finger to lift the sleeve of her left arm confirming the suspicion that she had been branded in the slave trade. He released her and continued on as if nothing had occurred, “I will have some ice blocks sent up from camp. I should like to have rum over ice, rather than wine. We brought the ice as a gift to your queen. I’m afraid if she doesn’t arrive soon, this heat will ruin our efforts.”

The Emperor had the gall to sound put out by the absence of a woman who wasn’t expecting his company. As if it were the queen's fault they had brought gifts that quickly expired in the heat of her country. To be fair, a gift of ice was considered a rich and rare bestowal. A high compliment. But typically one is invited first before coming bearing impressive gifts.

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RE: Love & War [Closed] - megs - 12-24-2016

Maeve’s face remained impassive as the emperor was quick to insult her station. The place and duties of a handmaiden were different in Veridian then they were in Eskra. Women of Eskran nobility often employed several young girls to take up minimal and vain tasks. A queen in Veridian had but one handmaiden and she was exceptionally close to being a second-in-command. Maeve laced her fingers across her abdomen, her eyes lifting to glance at the dark-haired man over the emperor’s shoulder. She had pegged this man, who was not Eskran given his accent, as an adviser.

He seemed to be doing a poor job of advising.

Violet eyes tracked back and forth between one man and the other, and she tilted her head in response as he tried to smooth out the emperor’s obvious displeasure. Her neutral expression was broken by the appearance of a small smile; a forced nicety . She held her position as Lord Hartwydt’s men began to disperse at his orders. Movement from her periphery drew her attention the approach of the stable master and her apprentices. Perhaps Lochellan would have more luck with the emperor's steed than Maeve was having with the emperor himself.

Eskran soldiers wandering through the city, all but unattended. Maeve pressed her lips together, taking a long, breath through her nose. The given instructions implied that the men were to behave themselves, but Maeve knew men well enough to doubt it would happen. She knew Eskran men even better.

“Of course,” Maeve replied smoothly, as he challenged her with the mention of additional guests. “The more the merrier, of course. The queen would insist.” She would not, but once again Maeve was at an impasse. Her expression and her words did not necessarily match in that instance. “You will find more comfortable clothing, befitting the weather in your rooms,” she spoke as she turned to lead him towards the castle. A rough hand on her arm halted her steps as she was caught off guard. Maeve had grown to comfortable to Veridian customs, as they did not participate in such casual touch. Her sleeve lifted at the insistence of his pushing at it, and she resisted the urge to pull her arm from his grasp as he inspected the raised pink scars that accented her bicep. The circle near her shoulder indicated that she was a slave, the ‘X’ below it that categorized her as insubordinate and a half-moon shape that advertised her of breeding age and possibly fertile.

Her arm returned sharply to her side when he released it, an involuntary reaction as her opposite hand lifted to smooth her sleeve over of the markings. “I will personally see to all of your requests, Lord Hartwydt,” she stressed, aand continued moving forwards towards the castle. “I am sure the queen will be returning, shortly.” Maeve did not make an effort to imply that the queen would enjoy his gifts.

Or his company.

Maeve led the emperor and what remained of his entourage through the castle, upwards and towards the south wing. She did so silently, and while ignoring the gazes of servants whose tasks left them exposed to watching the arrival of the emperor. “The entirety of the south end is at your disposal. Your entourage may choose their rooms as they see fit,” she announced, pausing and gesturing a hand outwards towards the long hall which branched off into several impressive suites. “Your chambers, Lord Hartwydt are at the end of the hall,” she explained, turning briefly to look at him before she swept off towards the room in question.

She unlocked the doors with an ornate key that had been left in the keyhole, and pushed the double doors open and stepped into the room, just far enough to leave the key on a nearby table. Maeve continued to stand by the door, fingers laced in front of her. Her chin tilted upwards. The room was large. Another set of double doors opened out onto a balcony furnished with chairs and table. The bed was dressed in linens of dark green and gold. The black and gold curtains were drawn back on the canopy to reveal that it was piled high with pillows. A full-length mirror, a dressing table and several armoires also inhabited the space.

“I sincerely hope this pleases your majesty. Your belongings will be delivered in a timely manner. Is there anything else I can provide for you at this time?”

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RE: Love & War [Closed] - saronym - 12-24-2016

Owen smiled for once, a perverse sort of mischievous grin that glittered in grey eyes at the prospect that more meant merrier. Certainly, Owen could arrange for more. “Excellent.” He considered this a compliment of the handmaiden’s skills in promising to arrange for whatever banquet he desired to throw and to take care of all of his personal request. He pledged to himself to test the Queen’s servant with all of his needs.

The reigns to Cimmerian, his stallion were handed off to hands that accepted them. Owen didn’t take note of the poor soul who would try to care for his horse who immediately balked - refusing another step once out of his master’s command.

The Emperor and his entourage flanking him in a perfect formation meant to be intimidating followed the handmaiden into the castle. Owen walked with a quick pace and long strides, as if to push Maeve along and signal to her he was impatient to be brought to his destination. The guardsmen dispatched themselves along the hallway leaving the Emperor with his advisors, servants, and personal guard for the remainder of the trip down to his own chambers.

Owen barely glanced around the room. It took much to impress him as he had been treated to a number of over fancied bedrooms during his travels. He looked at the coverlet with almost disgust. The thought of sleeping with that fabric over his body in this heat was unbearable to him. He planned to sleep in the nude on top of the sheets with the windows and balcony doors open wide.

“This will do fine.” He replied curtly to Maeve. His hands immediately moved to relieve straps and buckles that bound his armor to him. He was desperate to have the leather off his body which suffered miserably from the heat and lack of ventilation in his thick Eskran clothing.

A young man burst forward. One of the Emperor’s several valets moving to help him undress, “Let me assist you My Lord.” The young man offered, hands moving to the straps.

The Emperor pushed at hands that attempted to help him. “I will do it myself. I don’t want to be fussed over. I’m hot enough as it is. Leave me be.” He barked at the young man who jumped and stepped back a pace. As the pieces of leather were released, Owen just let them fall, forcing the boy to move to catch them lest they land at his feet.

Owen sighed with relief when the last of the leather fell from his body. He seemed visibly more comfortable. He moved towards the balcony to catch the breeze and continued to undress himself. Fingers worked first at the clasp to his cloak and then at buttons that fastened his thick brocade tunic to him. The clothing fell away leaving the Emperor in a sweat soaked undershirt clinging to his skin. This was quickly removed and tossed away. The valet scampered after catching whatever fell.

“I will send word when I am ready.” Was the fashion by which he dismissed Maeve, when he remembered her presence since freed from the prison of his heavy clothes. “Thank you.” He added as an after thought.

The advisers had stood patiently outside of the Emperor’s chambers waiting for their moment to have a word alone with the grumpy and over-haughty Emperor.

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RE: Love & War [Closed] - megs - 12-24-2016

Lochellen’s ears pushed forward as she accepted the reins from the emperor with a respectful nod of her head. The obstinate nature of the steed was immediately brought to her attention as soon as as its master began to walk away from him. It didn’t help that the horse was at least two feet taller than she. Her tail swayed awkwardly behind her knees, as she attempted to lead the horse towards the stable. It took two steps backwards, stretching the reins between them. As if out of spite. The rest of the horses had been content to make their way to the stables with little insistence, determined to get out of the baking sun.

This one, a black Percheron, held steadfast to his position in the middle of the courtyard. Loch looked over her shoulder, black ears disappearing against her black hair as she watched Maeve lead the emperor and his company towards the castle. She looked back to the horse, who tossed its head, pulling at the reins.

"Come now," she murmured, snapping open a pouch on her belt with her free hand. With two fingers she pulled a perfectly carved sugar cube and held it in her palm for the stallion. "You must be hot," she suggested, wiggling her fingers enticingly. "There's water at the stables."


Fine. He had referred to the room as merely fine. Maeve frowned, since he wasn’t looking at her. She had prepared the room herself and she knew it was exceptionally more than fine. Maeve didn’t move from the post she had taken up by the door, because she had not been dismissed. As articles of clothing and armor began falling away from the emperor she averted her eyes towards the ceiling. It wasn’t as if she expected him to completely undress while she stood there, but if he did, it wouldn’t be the first time that something of the sort had happened to her. She had learned to police her actions to save her own sanity.

Her gaze only dropped when he moved onto the balcony, they immediately fell to the valet who was eagerly picking up after the emperor. Which was fine, she was not particularly in the mood to attend to his every whim herself. Just some of them.

“Of course, Lord Hartwydt,” she replied, just loud enough to be heard. “I will be nearby if you have need of me.” With another bow, she moved out of the room, sealing the heavy doors behind her. She spared a glance to the men waiting outside of the suite, before she laced her fingers behind her back and slowly moved towards the opposite end of the hall.


“Your majesty!”

Julianna halted her horse to the sound of her title, turning her head to and fro to find where the voice had come from. She noticed a foot messenger pushing his way through the crowd and making his way towards her. He stopped in front of her horse. “Lady Maeve has sent me to find you,” he stated, before quickly delving into details on the approach of the Eskran emperor and his men.

The queen didn’t dare voice the irregularities in the story. She didn’t say that she had extended no invasion to the Eskran empire. She couldn’t afford to have the word make its way through the port city, potentially inciting a panic. And she certainly couldn’t let the information reach towards further edges of the continent and designate her as some sort of incompetent.

“Thank you,” she said to the boy, quickly turning Onyx around with a tug on the reins. “Make sure the people know that the Eskrans are welcome as long as they keep peaceful,” she directed of the boy, as he received his second shining golden coin of the day.

Sairus trotted his chestnut stallion to catch up to the queen’s side. He leaned towards her, balancing himself in the saddle to keep his voice lowered. “An invitaion?”

Julianna shook her head. “What do you think it means?” Sai tilted his head to glance at Coltrane would brought up the rear. Starling kept a median pace next to them, and did not wander too far from the group.

Her ears pricked to attention and she sighed. “I have no idea, but I suppose we will be finding out.”

---

RE: Love & War [Closed] - saronym - 12-26-2016

After delivering the emperor’s commands to the men camped outside the city, Sanders made haste to return to his post at his leader’s side. Owen had a bad habit of dispatching guardsmen on assignments that could be carried out by messengers or valets. It was better not to contradict the emperor but carry out the tasks quickly.

He pulled his horse to a sudden stop and directed the white and grey stallion to turn back when he spied what seemed to be a very small woman trying to coax Cimmerian into the stables. She received no help from anyone else and seemed at a loss with the horse. Sanders sighed and urged Stardust, the older brother to Cimmerian, up next to the woman.

Cimmerian was in the process of gingerly taking a sugar cube from the woman’s palm. He even took an encouraging step forward. However, the incorrigible stallion dropped the sugar cube to the ground and snorted violently as he stamped on it.

The mounted guardsman could not stifle a laugh that rang out echoing on stone in the courtyard. He clasped a leather gloved hand over his mouth to stop himself from continuing to laugh at her expense too loudly.

“He’s right bastard, huh?” Sanders asked with no regard for policing his language around the woman. He was perched atop his horse with both hands cupped around the saddle horn. Cimmerian and Stardust greeted one another. Tails raised and nostrils flaring. Stardust stepped towards his brother and nuzzled against him.

“Allow me.” Sanders insisted as he dismounted. Taking the reins in hand, he moved off towards the stable, leading Stardust behind him. Cimmerian, not wanting to be left behind, started following after a moment’s hesitation.

“Brothers.” Sanders explained, his index finger passing between the two horses.


Once Maeve took her leave of him, Owen allowed himself to be dressed by the valet in one of the breezy tunics found in the wardrobe. The valet let the shirt hang open at the chest, which was in style and also functional for keeping the emperor cool. He offered Owen his crown brooch but the ruler refused and settled for a gold chained necklace with a crown charm inlaid with tiny emeralds.

The valet even convinced the emperor to sit long enough to have his hair combed - though he complained as he always did about the valet’s treatment of his hair. During the ordeal that was dressing the emperor, his two trusted advisers gathered around and cautiously reminded him of their status as guests. Holland spent most of his breath instructing Owen on Maeve’s high station as the Queen’s handmaiden and the respect due to her for this office.

Owen flimsily agreed to adjust his behavior towards the handmaiden. When his grooming was finished they bade one of the castle servants to send word to Maeve that they would arrive in the banquet hall shortly - and that the emperor requested she sit with him at the table. Immediately upon arriving to the banquet hall, the emperor all but commandeered the preparations.

He redirected the servants to clear a portion of the head table and sent for the ice block to be placed in the center. A renowned ice sculptor had traveled with them as a part of their gift to the queen. She wasn’t around to enjoy the man’s work, so Owen instructed him to begin anyway. The sculpture would ultimately take form as a four and a half foot rearing stallion. Made of ice. In the center of the head banquet table.

The emperor took his place at the head of the table - the most honorary seat, of course. The servants were instructed to collect the ice as it was chipped away into buckets. As the other guests arrived - all Eskran officers, his guardsmen, and entourage - filling the hall, their glasses were filled with ice and rum. And the festivities began with a simple toast by the emperor.

“Drink to me.” He called out in Eskran to the room which had hushed when he stood. As was their custom, the men toasted the emperor with their glasses raised, they downed the rum, and clinked the cups on the table in unison. They were then free to enjoy the food and drink as they pleased.

Owen had requested that the seat to his right be saved for Maeve. To his left, his advisers were sat, Holland followed by Renton. The rest of the table was filled by the rank of his officers in descending order. A seat next to Maeve was left empty for the head guardsman, Sanders, who had yet to arrive.

The emperor picked at his food and was content to mostly fill up on rum. Of the things served to him, he favored the fruit the most, and pushed the rest away.

“Miss Maeve.” Owen addressed his attention to the handmaiden. “How long have you been in service to the queen?” He leaned back in his chair, all but lounging in it, and sipped at rum, while pointedly staring at the handmaiden. “Do you think the queen would ask much for you, if I offered to buy your freedom?”

Holland choked on whatever he had been chewing at that moment, and quickly recovered himself by forcing it down with gulps of water. “My Lord -” he began cautiously, which earned him a glare. “A handmaiden is not typically enslav -”

“Let her speak for herself Rivers.” He snapped at his adviser, cutting him off.

Holland’s mouth clamped shut and he pursed his lips in obvious disapproval.

---

RE: Love & War [Closed] - megs - 12-26-2016

Lochellan was aware of the approach of another mounted soldier, but for the moment she ignored him. Focused on coaxing the enormous black stallion into following her instructions. She sighed a hopeful chuckle when he leaned down to take the treat from her, and risked a pat to his nose. Cimmerian dodged her touch to lower his head and drop the cube. Loch frowned as she watched it be crushed to dust beneath his hooves. Her ears swiveled forward, honing into the sound of laughter, probably at her, from the mounted rider. She took a step back to frown at him instead. Her dark gaze slid over him as Cimmerian’s foot continued to scrape the ground, determined to make his displeasure known, by reducing the sugar to nothing. Loch liked his beard, and the curve of his mouth even though the shape of it was suggestive of amusement at her expense. Her tail swayed slowly behind her knees.

“Yes,” she replied tightly to his statement, which was becoming more obvious as she was in the stallion’s company. She was forced to walked with the horse, or be dragged by the reins as he wanted to move closer to the grey speckled steed. “He is proving to be quite...difficult.” Not being aware of the man’s station, left her unwilling to insult the emperor's mount in such a casual way as he.

One of her ears fell lopsided as he dismounted. He was tall and she was forced to look up at him. She was used to men being taller than her and she had gathered that Eskran men were just as tall as Veridian ones. Not that she minded. When he was closer she could see that his eyes were a very lovely shade of blue. She may have been staring. Quickly she averted her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said, as she followed him and the two horses in tow. She nodded thoughtfully as he pointed out the relationship of the two horses. She was secretly miffed that it had been so easy for him to turn Cimmerian to compliance. She followed, also not wanting to be left behind. “I’m Lochellan,” she offered. “The stable master here.”


The queen’s handmaiden spent what she suspected to be her last moments of peace, tending to preparations in the kitchen. She did not know what the challenges that the emperor’s visit would present. Though, from what she’d learned of his attitude she did not think positively on the possibilities. She continually instructed the staff to comply with anything that the emperor and his entourage wanted. Her options were limited. Her hands were tied. As long as the queen was absent, she could do nothing despite the authority she carried. An emperor, even a foreign one, left her with no choice but to abide. Especially, if she wanted to avoid the risk of insult.

“Lady Maeve.”

With her thoughts interrupted, she blinked away from the roasting pig she’d been staring her annoyance into. She turned to the steward with a sigh. This was it, this was the exact moment where her peace dissolved. “What is it?”

“The emperor is making his way to the banquet hall.” Maeve tsked. An annoyed snap of her tongue against her teeth. The hall was already filled with food and drink and whatever specific requests had been made. It was fully staffed with men and women that would cater to their whims more easily than she.

“Wonderful,” she replied in a monotone. She turned away from the steward and rested her elbow in her hand she she could rest her chin on the back of her knuckles. “I hope he enjoys himself.” She did not sound as if she hoped he enjoyed himself. When the young servant did not immediately leave, Maeve turned sharp violet eyes on him.

“What?”

“Well. The emperor. He has….”

“He has what?” she snapped.

“He’s requested that you join him at the banquet, Lady Maeve.”

Maeve was quiet for a long time. A deep frown tugging at both corners of her mouth, still hidden by the back of her hand. Of course he wanted her presence. Why wouldn’t he? As if he couldn’t be content by just being haughty, he also had to find new and inconvenient ways to flaunt his power. “Of course. I would be honored.”

She took her time doling out the rest of her instructions, and even a few warnings. Precautions for the emperor insisting on her time and taking her away from her duties. She did not prepare herself quickly for the feast. Her green dress was traded for one in light blue. There was little difference in the cut of it, but the flimsy sleeves were longer and cuffed at the wrist. Hopefully to dissuade any impromptu gazes at her scars. She removed the comb from her curls, letting them fall down her shoulders however they would. Once again, her only accessory was the symbol of her station.

Maeve arrived at the hall, late and unannounced, just as the emperor was toasting to himself. She policed her expression, taking great effort in stifling the urge to roll her eyes. She was directed to a seat next to Lord Hartwydt, and she silently prayed for the queen’s swift return.

Food and drink were presented to her, but she only ate and drank enough to not appear rude. She was in no position to snub the subtle generosities that were being shown to her in that moment. Very pointedly, she had kept her sights off the the emperor. Her gaze flitted between the block of ice that was being carved on the table, and also melting over its polished surface, and the two advisers that sat across from her. Most especially, the one who’d presented her with the forged letter.

When the emperor addressed her, she was forced to look at him. To observe the easy way he’d taken over the spaces offered to him. How very like a conqueror to want more than he was given. She sipped at her water as he spoke, surveying him over the rim of her goblet. Maeve had suspected that he was displeased with her, and she had correctly surmised that her service to the queen was the reason. Eskrans were a proud people, and she wondered if he would even care of the circumstances that led her to her current position.

An adviser interjected. She took note of his name. Given or surname, she wondered? A question for another time. He was silenced, though his information seemed correct.

“I have been with Queen Julianna for four years,” she explained, setting the intricate cup upon the table. “But I am not enslaved to her. I am no longer a slave to anyone. I attend to my duties freely.”

---

RE: Love & War [Closed] - saronym - 12-27-2016

“He will get used to you.” Sanders offered her some hope for future dealings with the stubborn horse. She seemed somewhat sullen and in need of a confidence boost. His lips spread into an easy smile for her benefit.

“You’re welcome. Happy to help! Wouldn’t want you missing the Emperor’s banquet. You are coming aren’t you?” He prattled at her cheerfully as they walked along. He glanced at her from time to time. He may have been staring at her ears a little bit, but didn’t want her to know it. Sanders had only heard rumors about the Veridian women. He found their swiveling ears and feline tails rather fetching - as did many of the other soldiers. Tanned skin and cat features were the buzz in the camp.

“Sanders Strafford.” He extended a gloved hand for her to shake. “Emperor’s guard. Well, head of the emperor’s guard.”


Owen decided he had had enough food and signaled this by placing his fork and knife on the plate in front of him. He pushed at the edge of the plate with his index giving himself some distance. The rum, however, he was not finished with. As Maeve spoke, he raised his glass and a servant quickly jumped to refill it for him.

He snorted into his glass when she used the word ‘freely.’ The emperor had his ideas about what freedom meant. Being in service to a foreign ruler while your own native kingdom flourished under new rule did not seem like freedom to him.

“I see.” He said at last. “Well, perhaps you’ll decide one of these days to freely come home.” He used the word pointedly to signal to her that he did not believe an Eskran could be home in anyplace other than Eskra.

Holland placed his own fork over his plate with a polite clink and cleared his throat. He was seeking leave to speak and got it when Owen turned towards him. “Lady Maeve,” he began, a cautious smile on his lips, “I think Lord Hartwydt might be interested in what he can engage himself with during his visit - ah. Um.” He paused to spare a glance at the distracted ruler.

Owen was no longer paying attention. He was winking at a maid who hovered nearby him, having been placed there to personally refill the emperor’s rum whenever he needed it. His intoxication was becoming evident and he signaled to the girl to come to him and sit on his lap.

Holland cleared his throat and continued on. Better to let the emperor amuse himself with whatever he wanted to. That left him to keep company with the handmaiden. “Are there any diversions in the city that he, or we, might find interesting?” He jumped as if something had occurred to him. "Oh! I don't believe we were formally acquainted. I'm Holland Rivers. Emperor's counsel."

---

RE: Love & War [Closed] - megs - 12-27-2016

“I can only hope.” The petite horse master led the guard and both horses through the stables until she found two empty box stalls sectioned off next to one another. She presumed there would be some benefit in keeping the brothers close to one another. “It will be a long and irritable visit for the both of us otherwise,” she she continued, as she opened the doors so they could be led into their new holdings.

Her ears perked at Sanders’ comment, and she laughed lightly. Tail swaying as if he’d told some amusing joke by suggesting she would be going to the banquet. And perhaps he had. It wasn’t uncommon for the lower-ranking staff members to tease one another about attending more fantastical events. When Loch glanced at him, she realized that he was being serious. She pressed her lips together and cleared her throat, ears twitching as she returned her attention to her task. “No, no, I won’t be attending. Servants don’t attend such gatherings. Except for Lady Maeve of course, but she’s not really a servant. Me? I just stay here with the horses.” Loch didn’t usually make a habit of rambling on, but she found herself doing so in the Eskran guard’s company. “I kinda prefer besides. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it though. I hear they’re real nice.”

She stopped her work for a moment to shake the hand that had been offered to her. “Nice to meet you, Ser Strafford.”


Maeve sat stiffly against the back of the chair she occupied. The auxiliary staff bustled around them, clearing away finished dishes, and refilling drinks and attending to any request that fell upon them. She sipped at her water, mostly to have something to do with her hands, but also to hide the frown that the emperor kept pulling forth on her usually more neutral expression. She continued to hold the goblet as she focused her sights on their guest, her thumb running rhythmically across the rim.

“I have no intentions on returning to Eskra, Lord Hartwydt” she replied in a moment of boldness offered to her by the candid nature of their conversation. The country she had been sold out of and the one it had become under his command were different places, but she had no interest in finding out how different. She had heard stories, but there was nothing there she intended to see for herself. Maeve was notoriously unforgiving. Another delicate sip of water, eyes rolling away from him to settle anywhere else. “Veridian is my home now.”

The handmaiden allowed the adviser to hold her attention. Pale purple eyes held hazel as he spoke. She could not decide if his eyes were mostly green, or mostly blue. Too much warm brown in them for her to really choose. She decided to save the matter for another time. She nodded politely at his introduction. “A pleasure,” she mumbled, still unwilling to divulge whether she too had a surname.

She was distracted by the maid who had taken a seat on the emperor’s lap. Maeve cocked her head in an attempt to catch the girl’s eye, but she wasn’t paying attention. Too busy giggling and pouring rum directly into the emperor’s mouth at his request. Her copper colored ears and tail fidgeting in time with her amusement.

Maeve pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and sighed sharply, as she attempted to focus on Holland’s questions. She was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the liveliness of the banquet. It was loud. Lord Hartwydt was not the only one of his party acting foolishly.

Before Maeve could think to answer Master Rivers’ question, the double doors to the banquet hall were pushed open. Her head snapped in the direction to bear witness to the new arrival and her stomach knotted at the sight.

Julianna stood in the center of the threshold, Sairus and Coltrane flanking either side of her. Livid, was not nearly an accurate enough adjective for the expression on her pretty features. She was still dressed in the leather boots and riding pants she had left in that morning. Her white shirt was dingy with a fine layer of dust and it had fallen off her shoulders revealing sun-kissed skin and a cluster of spots. Her braid had been knocked out of the bun, falling tangled and twisted over her shoulder.

To Maeve, she looked a mess and this was not what she had pictured for a first impression. Julianna even still word the short sword she likely rode out to practice with. The strap of the scabbard cut across her chest, the pommel peaked out above her head. As well as her tail, an angry silver streak that flickered behind her head.

Her presence did nothing to immediately stifle the revelry. She snatched riding gloves from her hands and handed them off to a steward who was quick to make her presence and her loyalty known. Julianna stepped forward, the guardsmen trailing behind her until she reached the end of the long table which Lord Hartwydt currently sat at the head of.

The diminutive queen stepped into an empty chair to gain the leverage she needed to step upon the table. Only then did the officers begin to quiet. Curious about the woman who had begun stalking down the polished oak piece. She had no care for the drinks she knocked over or the dishes she displaced as she made her way to the opposite end. She stopped once when she reached the melting ice sculpture that was leaving an impressive puddle on her silk table runner. She looked down at the water around her boots, too angry to lament the loss of her pretty table decoration. Moving around the sculpture she continued until the toes of her boots met the end of the table.

Maeve stood quickly, she bowed to Julianna and her face burned with the shame that the queen refused to feel for herself. “Your majesty,” her words were a greeting, but her tone was pleading. Please get down from the table, please do not cause a scene. They went ignored. Julianna’s tail fell to her feet as she first turned her attention on the maid who immediately removed herself from the emperor’s lap. She bowed quickly, russet ears falling against brown hair and Julianna’s eyes tracked her as she moved to a corner of the hall.

Julianna took a moment to look around the room which had gone infinitely more quiet comparatively. Her ears twitched, and she stood with her feet apart and placed her hands on her hips. Sharp green eyes looked down at Owen, brow furrowed with her obvious displeasure.

“High Emperor of Eskra, Owen Hardwydt, I presume?”

---

RE: Love & War [Closed] - saronym - 12-27-2016

Sanders led Stardust into his stable first to show Cimmerian to follow suit. The cantankerous stallion behaved nicely mirroring his brother’s acquiescence.

“Oh come on.” Sanders practically whined. For a moment there he had his heart set on having a dinner companion in the stable master. “If I invite you, you aren’t a servant, but a quest of the emperor’s.” Though it was the stable hand’s job, he started unstrapping Stardust’s saddle if only to stall a little bit longer in her presence.

“A banquet thrown by Lord Hartwydt is not something to be missed.” He continued on, trying to lay his arguments on thick. It was unknown to him that the queen was disrupting the festivities at that very moment. “There’s going to be an ice sculpture and everyone is drinking rum.”


Owen pinched the bottom of the maid sitting on his knee. She jumped and giggled at him. He smiled at her and moved her out of the way, tucking her closer against him, so that he could look at Maeve. “Your loss, milady.” He used the civility sarcastically and returned his attention to the maid, instructing the young woman to pour the rum down his mouth for him. He was spying a second servant nearby for his other knee which remained sadly empty.

Holland took a deep breath in and held it for a tense moment. He exhaled suddenly and forced a smile. “The pleasure’s all mine.” He insisted. His other question went unanswered due to a disturbance in the party when the banquet hall doors boomed open. Slowly the attention of the table was turned to the woman in riding gear climbing on the table.


Holland’s own cup was tipped over by the boot of the clearly perturbed queen, which left him sopping up rum with his napkin. He bowed his head respectfully even as he worked to catch the liquor running across the table and towards him.

It wasn’t until the woman was skirting around the ice sculpture that Owen took notice of someone on the table. He was busy accepting a kiss on the cheek by the blushing maid, who he held firmly against him. Her tail he had pulled into her lap and fiddled with it using his free hand enjoying the feeling of the soft fur lined appendage.

Grey eyes swept over a small woman in riding leathers and a thin layer of reddish brown dust. One look from the rider and the maid was excusing herself from his lap which pulled a mocking pout from Owen’s mouth. He let his hand run across her bottom as she walked away. He then turned his gaze back to the woman he assumed was the queen.
With an empty lap again he leaned back in his chair and spread his hands. “Who else, Your Grace?”

Who else indeed.

“Come to claim your throne I presume.” A smirk pulled the left corner of his mouth upwards into a subtle curl. With his hands he indicated to his lap. Who is to say whether a sober Owen would have made the same remark. Stone cold sober he was a bold man and liquor did not make him bolder - merely louder.

Though she was obviously displeased, he rather liked the attempt she made at intimidation. It was rather captivating. He was so used to over powdered damsels sighing at him. This was intriguing. Even the messy twist of her hair falling over her shoulder had his attention.

---

RE: Love & War [Closed] - megs - 12-27-2016

Cimmerian allowed Lochellen to remove his saddle without protest. He sensed her intentions and was more than willing to have the weight removed. She worked at his bit and bridle next, taking care of where she placed her fingers. She would not put it past the stallion to bite. When he was free of the accessories he turned to the break in the partitions, in an effort to get more attention from his brother.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” she replied at Sanders’ implied invitation. She honestly didn’t. She wasn’t sure if his asking was enough to allow her into the hall. She did know that his authority wouldn’t overrule the queen’s. Queen Julianna was known to be kind, but Loch wasn’t interested in finding out where she drew the line.

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” she sighed, stepping out of Cimmerian’s stall and latching the door behind her. She moved towards the exit, brushing her hands on her pants and craning her neck to see further into the courtyard. Her tail swayed slowly behind her head. “Extravagance aside, I think the party might be over.” Having heard the sound of beating hooves a moment before, her suspicions were confirmed when she spotted Onyx, huffing agitatedly at the castle steps. “The queen has returned.”

Maeve continued to watch the exchange between the emperor and the maid with unmasked disapproval. How dare this woman act so scandalously in the queen’s banquet hall. The casual touch shared between them would no doubt start a vicious flurry of rumors among the staff. The handmaiden made a mental note, to deal with this woman, Primrose if she recalled correctly, personally. She sincerely hoped the red-eared servant was enjoying herself, because she would not be when Maeve was finished with her.

Though banished to the corner of the room by the presence of the queen, Primrose still looked pleased as could be to have sat in the lap of foreign royalty. The exchange would go to her head, for better or for worse.

Julianna remained, unapologetically atop her own table. Personally, she had no interest in the maid. In the back of her mind she knew Maeve would handle the staffing situation. It was her uninvited guest that sat at the head of it as if he belonged there that she was more concerned with.

His haughty response drew a smile from her. The look of it was more derisive than amused and it did not reach her eyes which had yet to leave the emperor. Her gaze swept over him, and in a different situation, one that included invitations and better behavior she may have noticed how attractive he was.

The queen even managed a small laugh, a hollow sound as if she was being polite in the face of a bad joke. Which is what the entirety of this situation was to her. Julianna’s hands fell from her hips, and she pushed her sleeves towards her elbows, revealing another trail of black spots. She slipped the fraying braid over her shoulder and her eyes lingered on his hands, and the space between them that was the highlight of his uncouth remarks.

“I usually prefer my thrones to be a bit more…” she paused, lifting a hand as if she were reaching for the correct word. “Well-endowed," being what she settled for. The hand dropped to her thigh with a slap. Maeve cursed softly in Eskran where she stood, eyes pinching closed as she covered her mouth with her fingers.

How quickly this was turning into a disaster.

---

RE: Love & War [Closed] - saronym - 12-28-2016

Sanders bolted to attention at the mention that the queen had arrived already. “Oh shit! Really?” He knew his duty was at the emperor’s side during this meeting, however Sanders didn’t want to leave the company of the attractive and chatty stable master. He took two paces back towards the castle and then turned back to Lochellen.

“I have to go.” He explained while walking backwards towards his destination. “It was nice to meet you Lady Lochellen.” He used civilities on her more because she was a woman. He was unsure whether her position required it. “You have an open invitation to accompany me to the next banquet or event. I won’t let you miss another one.”

He turned and dashed off towards the castle.


When the emperor offered his lap to the queen as her throne, Holland closed his eyes and clamped his jaw shut. He exhaled to encourage a wave of tranquility to fall over him and opened his eyes again to assess the situation. If this could be salvaged perhaps they would be able to stay the night in the castle at the least and perhaps they’d avoid war. He spared a glance to Maeve across from him noting that she looked as mortified as he felt.

Renton, the other of the emperor’s most trusted adviser, elbowed Holland in the side and gestured to the emperor who was rising from his seat. He leaned over and whispered, “I think its past the emperor’s bedtime.”
Holland nodded his agreement. Now to plan how to excuse them all from the party politely without further insult to Veridian or the queen.

Owen’s eyebrows climbed towards his brow slowly after the insult to his manhood was landed. He rubbed a hand over his beard before he rose from the chair in one swift motion. Though the queen was a small woman and he tall, the height of the table kept her at the advantage. Not that he seemed to notice as he fixed her with a imperious stare and reached up to grab her braid and bring it back to the front. He rather liked it there hanging over her shoulder.

“Intelligent negotiators know to inspect the product before purchase.” His hands moved then to his the buckle that secured his pants. “Who am I to deny you that benefit, Your Grace. See for yourself.” Somehow he'd managed to compliment and insult her all in the same breath.

A commotion broke out in the room. Sudden voices raised, a mixture of laughing and warnings to the emperor. The scraping of chairs and quick movements. Sanders had rushed into the room just in time to be signaled by Holland to assist. The two advisers, in addition to Sanders and two guardsmen moved in front of and around the emperor. He had successfully freed his cock from his pants with scarce little time before the men moved in the way and covered him.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, he has had too much of your fine rum.” Holland turned to apologize when it appeared that the men had a handle on the emperor who growled in frustration cursing at them in Eskran. “Please excuse us while we assist the emperor to his bedchambers for the evening.” He managed a bow before turning quickly to catch up to the group of men pushing the emperor from the banquet hall.

---