[M] War and Peace ~ Breggo and Hannelorian [IC]

[Breggo13]

Crysos ground his teeth, listening to Saskia’s plea. Her tutors had certainly taught her well, her argument balanced and convincing, her dedication to her fate regardless of circumstance unwavering. That is what angered him - how dare his father rob both of his children of a life? How could he train his daughter to believe that her only duty, her only worth was to be sold to whoever sat on the Imperial throne, regardless of what that would mean for her own sanity and wellbeing? The fact that the Princess Royal of Lys, that his little sister was reduced to tears and begging to be sold into slavery was beyond what Crysos could comprehend.

“Please stand Saskia,” the young man’s eyes filled with sadness. “I am not here to tell you what is right or wrong for that is not my place. I love you and I want to see you happy. Regardless of your pure intentions and the burden you carry, being married to the Emperor will not bring you the peace or accomplishment you seek. Even if your belief in his character proves to be well placed, that does not mean that he will stop to do whatever he thinks is right. Whatever he deems he needs to do.”

Crysos stood to walk around the desk, crouching to look Saskia into her eyes before slowly helping her stand, his hands holding hers. “Before his coronation, Alistair de Vallois was a general with the Asterian army. He and his Flight, the Dragon Knights, were positioned in the Southern border of the Empire by the Tyrenease Conglomerate. Do I need to remind you what those Southern barbarians are capable of? Alistair and his men pushed the mercenaries out and made an example of them. That bastard…he didn’t leave anyone in his path. Women, children, the old, the crippled. No pleas or cries stopped him from protecting his lands and gaining ground, no sense of compassion.”

With a flourish of his fingers, the Prince pulled out his lace handkerchief, embroidered in the corner with the royal crest and his personal initials before offering it to the young woman. “I understand that our people had been preparing for the inevitable for years - and when Sebastian was alive, I would have been content enough to bow down to your wisdom and step aside though it wound me. Now however,” Crysos turned back to the window, his eyes growing hard. “Fate has altered the circumstances. I must also consider the good of our people, just like you. Has the most recent census reached your eyes recently? Have you looked at our citizens? Lys has always been home to more than our people - elves, dwarves, races much older and knowledgeable than us live in this land. Last year, they reached nearly half our citizens. The Empire has never been kind to them and the inflow of refugees from neighbouring lands has only increased, none more so than those from Asterious. Do you think that is a mere coincidence?”

“Let us assume that your marriage - if it is still in Asterious’ interest - goes through and Lys becomes part of the Empire,” Crysos spun on his heels, facing back to his sister, eyebrows raised. “Are our citizens to become slaves for the Asterians? Go back to being shunned and treated like garbage? Or are they to run and hope for another country to accept them? Is that the peace we are offering our people, those who asked for our protection? Is that how we keep our promises? And what about Theo? His heritage is hard to hide and while he may be protected, he will be shunned at court and constantly used as a scape goat. Will your influence at court be enough to shield him?”

“Peace may not be enough for Lys to continue to exist - not the kingdom but the soul of our country,” Crysos crossed his arms. “So, as you can see Saskia, I cannot allow you to sacrifice yourself for a marriage that may bring about the end of the country you love.”

[Hannelorian]

Crysos was right. This alone was enough to infuriate Saskia for she could not refute his points or his claims, her brother was intelligent, observant. He knew the truth as well as she did. With his assistance she rose from the ground and took the fabric to clear her tears away. "Do you truly think I'm so ignorant to who are our people are? I never meant the humes alone, all of us, elves and the like are our people. They depend on us for their safety and security." Saskia understood full well that he was aware that she knew all of this. He was making a point, albeit a good one.

"I cannot deny your words. But I can only state that I still believe our chances for peace and equality will be best fought from within the Empire rather than directly against it. I will not see our lands burned to the ground by the Flight so you can keep your crown and your pride." Saskia was in her own way fuming with anger, and it was at that moment when he had mentioned their own brother that she momentarily lost what little calm she had remaining.

"Do you dare use our brother as a pawn in your arguments?" Saskia stepped closely to her brother and without a moment of hesitation she had raised a hand and slapped the man clearly across his face, hard enough to ensure it would sting in the worst of ways. "I love Theo. I have always loved Theo and I would die trying to protect him as surely as he would give his life for mine. I have spent the better part of my youth fawning over him, a man that I cannot have and would not have me. And yet in all of this he has the heart you so desperately lack." Saskia turned and stepped away from her brother, unwilling to look at him.

"We stand at an impasse Crysos. However I do not believe that standing in full opposition of the empire will do anything but insure our demise and rather quickly at that. I will do what I must, and so will you. But I wonder if you'll be able to accept the consequences. You may be Regent but you are not the King. You have no right here. And I will stand for it Crysos. I'll defy you openly if I must." Saskia did not turn back to look at him, merely she walked to the door and exited.

[Breggo13]

“This way gentlemen,” the voice of the adopted Prince Guard sounded in front as the group of roughly 10 warriors led their mounts and draft horses towards the royal stable, the sound of ironed horseshoes resonating around the quiet courtyard that was tucked away from the main entrance where the delegation had been greeted ten minutes ago. Leading his stallion and one of the heavier geldings that have been unhinged from the carriage earlier, Alistair allowed his eyes to take in the architecture with a bored curiosity. Argent’s castle was breathtaking even in this out of the way path. Every stone, every rock seemed to speak of the history of the place, full of stories from the past. Folks of all races and colors milled around, grooming and walking various equine specimen that made the man nod in appreciation. Before he had ever dreamed of attempting to flight under the Dragon Knight banner, he had spent any free minute he had in the saddle and, ever since he could remember, he had a lot of free time. Perhaps that is what got him in trouble - Sebastian was never as committed but he refused to be bested by his younger brother so while Alistair loved the thrill of an untamed stallion under him giving him the feeling of riding something as uncontrollable as the sea or wind, the heir to the Empire always looked rather pale. Inevitably, Alistair’s favorite stallion threw his brother when the young boy wasn’t around and was kulled, courtesy of his father’s wishes. The incident was blamed on Alistair and the boy sent away from court to learn manners.

“Our men can take care of your animals and I can personally assure you that they will receive the highest care under our Master of the Horse, Lord Johan,” the Prince paused, his blue gaze seemingly ideally sweeping across the Asterians before landing on Alistair. The emperor met the man’s gaze with his own bored expression, waiting until the older man frowned and looked away, his expression going back to his neutral pleasant state. “We have reserved the Northern wing for you, right under the apartments that are to be occupied by Lord Riddle and his companions. Baths are being drawn as we speak.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Sir Keith bowed his head in recognition before signaling to the rest of the men to grab their bags and surrender the horses to the waiting grooms, all of them eyeing the simply dressed group of foreigners with a mix of fear and curiosity. From behind the legs of one of the groom, Alistair could just make out a slightly dirty face of a child no more than six, watching the men with large brown eyes. Unlike the farmers they witnessed earlier, this child didn’t look devastatingly skiny but there was something that made the Emperor’s eyes narrow - it was as though the child’s eyes lacked the same spark of curiosity and excitement present in little boys everywhere. Instead, he felt as though he was gazing into the piercing eyes of a man, weathered and beaten by life over his many decades on this earth. The same resignation echoed in many of the other citizens of Lys - an understanding of the inevitable and acceptance of their fate. There was no fire, no flame, no anger and no hope. “We could all do with a wash - some more tham others.”

“Speak for yourself old man,” Westley muttered beside Alistair, his own eyes looking at the people coming to slowly take their animals. “By God, what happened here?”

“Acceptance of their fate,” Alistair’s own voice was soft, barely a whisper. “These court rats paint us pictures of citizens eager to accept Asterious’ rule and law but look around. Are these supposedly the faces of my adoring subjects?”

“If I ever meet Riddle in a dark street at night,” the man snarled but the Emperor shook his head.

“We have bigger battles to fight. Riddle is harmless as long as he is kept on a tight leash. Others won’t be as obedient,” he stopped as a couple of young men approached with bows to take the reins. Passing them the animals, Alistair grabbed his bags, slinging them easily over his shoulder just as Sir Keith and the Prince Guard started towards the entrance to the palace, neither speaking much but both assessing one another Alistair was sure. As much as he hated the fancy turkeys that posed as the diplomats with their fake pleasantries and sweet words, he trusted the men who had come with him. Not all of them were from his Flight - leaving Marcus Vale in his stead as the Minister of Internal Defence had been risky with many of Pomaball’s supporters remaining unhappy with the young man’s appointment. As such, most of the Dragon Knights remained in the capital to keep order and support Alistair’s rule. Which only meant that he would need to make a rather unpleasant detour on his way home through the Marques’ lands with a conversation he had hoped to avoid.

“These are your quarters, Sir Keith. I hope your men and you find them to your liking,” the Prince stopped, standing to the side as a few maids and servants bowed their heads in greeting. “Deek, Reginald’s finest butler, will be at your disposal should you require anything.”

“I would like to report to Lord Riddle and ensure we have his orders,” the commander raised an eyebrow. “You mentioned that it was upstairs?”

“Yes, Deek can show you the way. Otherwise, I will leave you now to rest - as soon as your lords are ready, we will start the banquet.”

“So a few hours at least,” Sir Keith couldn’t help a slight smirk as some of the Asterians laughed in humor. Even the stoick Prince Guard allowed the corners of his mout to lift in a faint smile. Regardless of which side they were on, warriors would aways laugh at those who took their time to preen their feathers. Perhaps that was the reason Alistair rarely came back to Valadis even when etiquette would have deemed it necessary - it seemed that he spent more time waiting for things to start than the events themselves and when they did, he felt restrained and constricted by the clothes he was forced to don. Even when he ascended the throne he hated, Alistair never bothered with the fashions, preferring his flexible dragon scale armour atop dark clothes to the flashiness of his court. Recently, he had been noticing the immitations start and while his men grinned and teased him, he ground his teeth as he saw more and more potential brides appear dressed in midnight blues and blacks.

“Deek, ensure that Sir Keith and his men are served appitizers and cider while they relax,” Theobald turned to the dark skinned man who nodded. “It would not do for our visitors to think we are so still of protocol that we cannot ensure their comfort.”

“Your Highness has our thanks,” the sentiment was echoed by all of Alistair’s men as they seemed a bit more relaxed which made the emperor only shake his head. You would think they knew not hunger when it was impossible to get provision in enemy lines with the way they lit up at the mention of simple comforts. Sighing, he watched the Prince give a nod of acknowledgement and with a soft goodbye, leave them to their own devices, striding confidently dow the corridor further into the depths of the castle.

“You stink you know,” Westley materialized beside him as though by magic. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you had no sense of personal hygiene.”

“One of these days, remind me to book you an appointment with Cedric,” Alistair turned on his heels and started towards the rooms that were delegated to them, his friend by his side.

“The executioner? What for, your imperial majesty?” the large eyes and innocent expression made Alister growel.

“You are too comfortable with your togue wagging this way and that,” Alistair nodded to Sir Keith as he passed him, continuing towards the furthest room with windows opening towards the gardens that stretched out behind the palace. “Without it, your own skin will be much safer.”

“Ah. but who will fill your lonely and silent existence with local gossip?” Westley chuckled, not offended in the least. Of all his Flight, all the men that he had grown up with and survived the bonding, the young northernern had cracked the code to Alistair within minutes, able to sense the slightest changes in the royal’s tone of voice and intentions. And while his demeanor and banter would appear all charm and no substance, he knew exactly when to get serious and his skills with the bow were renowned across any who entered the Southern campaign. Giving the man a pointed glare, Alister slammed the door in his face much to Westley’s amusement. Why could he not be serious now?

The bath did wonders to his mind and body - filled with scents that were a rather interesting combination of Asterious and Lys, comforting and exotic at once, the water a combination of colorful swirls that, as Alistair discovered, were salts and oils nourishing his skin and muscles. Closing his eyes and submurging under the liquid, he couldn’t help wondering how many such baths he would need in order to appear reborn - the blood on his hands was something he would never lose and he knew perfectly well there was more to come. Perhaps, he remarked as he held his breath, that is why he didn’t bother hiding the monster people expected to see for he never denied what he had done for his country and his people. As he climbed out of the bath and stood dripping before a simple large mirror, a true luxury in the simpler apartments given to the warriors, his hard eyes took in every scar that crossed his skin, each one a reminder of his past and where he started. The dark tattoos that spread across his left shoulder, snaking and spiraling, glared at him in the few spots he could see it, dark like his soul. Scoffing, he turned away, changing into fresh clothes of the Astarian escort and slipping a few throwing knives into his boots before sliding a dagger onto his side, habits that he was not about to change.

“Where is Sir Keith?” He asked as he stepped into the common area of their apartments where a few of his comrades were relaxing in plush chairs, a few playing a game of chess. Turning from the board, one of them looked upward, indicating the apartments above before his eyes drilled back onto the figures before him representing various nominations. “Knight to E7,” Alistair suggested quietly before moving towards the door.

“Would you like me to come with you, Sir?” one of his men looked up from his spot where he was lazily welting his own weapons but the Emperor shook his head.

“This…this is a private matter,” he responded after a second of thought. “I will return before the banquet, should Sir Keith or the lords need me.”

“Of course, Sir,” the man nodded as Alistair pulled open the heavy doors leading back to the corridor that they had originally came through. Rolling his head, he let his eyes adjust to the dimmer surroundings, the light of the fireplace and chandelier replaced by torches lining the stone walls and illuminating the tapestries that hung on them, depicting various mythical scenes. Choosing a direction that he saw the Prince Guard leave in earlier, the man started striding confidently forward, hoping to find what he was looking for quickly and praying that the painting he was curious about had been destroyed with Sebastian’s death. In one of the few letters that he had exchanged with his brother over the years, the heir to the Empire mentioned a painting that the Princess Royal had commissioned to commemorate their official engagement and wedding. Although he found it necessary, Sebastian had laughed about it, claiming that the sketches depicted him in a less than flattering light. What I do to make her happy, had been his words and while Alistair didn’t care much for that phrase before for he never planned to be at court to meet the empress, it had haunted him since the talk of his own marriage was brought up.

Sebastian had always been loved by everyone in the imperial court - he was soft, charming, approachable and did not question the status quo. Not directly in any case. What Sebastian had lacked in military prowness, he more than made up for in charisma and slyness, often navigating the complex landscape of Asterian politics in a way that his opponents could not even pinpoint when they had been outmanouvered before it was too late. Perhaps, he could afford to love and bow to Saskia’s wishes whenever it pleased him. Alistair had none of those luxuries - his education had never been about politics of the court. He was always direct and cold, constantly shut out by his own family, wild and uncontrollable. Aggressive, cold-hearted, unmovable - he had heard all those words before. When the crown came to him, most had assumed he would flaunter and fail to hold onto the power for long. A militaristic soldier with no sense of governing a country, the old aristocrats had thought.

He proved them wrong rather quickly - decisive, unafraid of opposition and stubborn to a fault, he bent the world around him to his will. Where his father and brother had used tact, Alistair ruled with an iron fist and unwavering sight, believing he could not afford to do otherwise. He had been in the far reaches of the Empire and saw how his people lived away from Valadis, the laws and governance that were complete lies to what his ministers tried to persuade him of. At first, his opponents balked so that he could push some reforms but within weeks, they came back with a vengeance led by none other than his own mother. Dowager Empress Carina refused to step out of mourning but one day she simply appeared in his assembly of lords, showing her support for some of the oldest families and blocking Alistair’s plans for the time being. Now, the wolves wanted him to marry and the Dowager wanted a daughter of true Asterian blood, all reasons Alistair had been desperate to witness Princess Royal of Lys himself.

As he moved up the stairs towards another floor, lost in his own thoughts, his ears caught the faint sounds of a heated argument happening behind one of the intricate doors. Frowning, he paused, straining to hear the echoes of the argument but the oak doors blocked most of the voices even from his keen senses heightened by the bonding. He could catch only but a few words - ‘Empire’, ‘pride’, ‘lack’ - all the words spoken in high conviction by a female voice. His eyes narrowed and his mind raced just as the door swung open, the final words hanging in the air.

“And I will stand for it Crysos. I'll defy you openly if I must.” Princess Royal Saskia floated out of the room, closing it forcefully behind her before practically colliding with Alistair’s frame. The God of the Flames was really having a laugh today, Alistair cursed silently as he steadied them both before hastily dropping his hand and stepping back, taking his first look at the young woman up close. She was certainly beautiful with porcelain, flawless skin and eyes that shone in the torch light though there seemed to be faint traces of tears on her cheeks glistening when she turned just so. Taller than the petite girls he was so accustomed to seeing in his own court, her movements seemed perfected even when he sensed, more than saw, her agitation. Whatever had happened between the princess and the prince regent just now had left her shaken and, if Alistair had any guess at all, it was most likely a conversation about the reason his diplomats were here now.

I’ll defy you openly if I must, The words rang in his ears as he tried to make sense of this woman that had, for as long as he could remember, been destined for his brother. A brother dead and buried whose throne he now claimed as his own. Did he want to claim this girl as well?

[Hannelorian]

The Palace Kitchens were roaring, the heat was intense from the fires and ovens, a flurry of activity from the assorted cooks and assistants all with occupied hands and a look of intense focus on their faces. To prepare a feast for the Royals of Lys was something normal and expected. They all knew the tastes of each member of the family and what they would expect.

Crysos picked at his food, much as he did when he was a child. It didn't really matter much what was put in front of him, he always seemed rather distracted.

Theobald preferred meat as was expected of a man of his stature, especially as a growing boy he was always particularly ravenous. It wasn't a chance occurrence to find him in the kitchens looking for a snack away from the watchful eyes of his parents and minders.

Saskia preferred fresh vegetables, herbs from the garden, the occasional poultry. The Princess always seemed more concerned with ensuring everyone else had eaten before worrying after her own needs and appetites. She too, like Theo had a penchant for snacking, though she was just as satisfied with a carrot dug up from the garden as she was with almost anything else.

Toward the exits of the kitchen stood a line of men all dressed in their finest Royal livery, all footmen who had been selected to serve this evening's meal. Each was unhappier than the next. Any time the Asterians showed their faces in Lys it was an unwelcome sight. A reminder of what was to come. A promise of peace just around the corner, though at what cost they would all wonder?

"Cold blooded bastards." One man remarked to the next standing beside him. The footman was young, perhaps younger than even the Princess. A gloved hand was placed over his mouth, his foot tapping eagerly at the floor, he was impatient.

"Stop it. You don't want to be heard do you, John?!" The man who had heard the comments was nervous himself, perhaps afraid of getting in trouble.

"It's only the truth. They hate us, we hate them. They're taking our heart, our Princess, our Saskia." John, as his name was revealed was rather, like many of his friends his age upset with the nature of the agreement. "Why do they get to take her from us? And for what? So they can marry her off to a beast who'll just kill her" He scoffed and spit down to the floor, rubbing his shoe in the small amount of liquid.

"What would you do then? Poison the diplomats?" The other footman rolled his eyes and shook his head, but even he could not deny the hint of truth in the young man's words. He certainly believed them.

"Not a bad idea. Do you think they have those tasters?" John of course, was not actually intending on poisoning the men, but did admit he had considered it. "You know the poor souls who get to check the food for poison first? Maybe one of those bulking horse riders?" John laughed lightly and shook his head.

"Galadh would forgive us, would he not?" John invoked the name of their God, Galadh himself. An all loving, all forgiving figure who alongside the King guided their hands and their very lives. "For protecting our lands? Our Princess, our people?" John sighed again and threw his hands in the air as though he were defeated.

From the distance there was a faint chuckle as Theo made his presence known, an apple in hand, it was the best they could offer him at the moment. "I think you mean to refer to her as, Her Royal Highness the Princess Royal." Theo was far more serious when it came to those who were not his family, those who he truly opened around. The two men of course had been caught off guard and immediately pulled themselves into a bow which Theo waived off, himself not a terrible fan of the actions that accompanied his title as Prince, rather than of the head of the Royal Guard.

"Your highness!" Both men seemed to exclaim, panicking slightly at the thought of having been overheard. "We... we were... just..."

Theo raised a hand and offered a small smile. "You needn't explain. You're just saying what many of us are thinking." Theo, unlike Crysos, always seemed more calm, he was patient. He wasn't exactly bothered by most things, though very few would dare go against him in any way. "But... what is most important now is that we support the Princess Royal. She needs us to believe in her." Theo spoke earnestly and disappeared from the kitchens as quickly and silently as he had arrived. Undoubtedly searching out his younger brother.

"Yeah... he's right." John relented quietly returning his attention to his duties.

Saskia had rather unexpectedly run into someone, quite literally. For a brief moment she was taken by surprise, and then the slightest feeling of hands against her delicate frame to stabilize her before taking a step back. The Princess Royal took a look at the man who she seemed to have encountered and offered something of a smile, but certainly a look of surprise. "Ah... I'm sorry, please accept my apologies." The Princess offered the kind and genuine words, shaking her head at her own apparent clumsiness. She recognized him, and intriguingly she recognized that he failed to bow before her. Even the most serious Asterian diplomat knew to bow before the Royal House.

Saskia smoothed out her dress with the palms of her hands. "I know you." Saskia remarked, the smile on her face broadening as she took a few steps forward, closer to the man. Saskia truly had no fear of the Asterians, but perhaps she would have if she knew his true identity. "The man who stayed mounted upon his noble steed, looking defiantly at diplomats and Princes and Princesses. Or perhaps it was a look of boredom, or disinterest." Saskia tutted rather playfully evening going so far as to wag a finger. It was clear that whatever had just happened she seemed for the time being to be able to set it aside.

"Though next time, I might recommend remembering to bow if found in the presence of the aforementioned diplomats. They're quite set on protocol and the like. They love their rules." The Princess seemed relaxed, almost free even, as though she had no concerns at all over showing elements of her personality before a man she knew nothing of at all. Really the Princess welcomed the distraction.

"I trust you've found everything to your taste, at least as much as you can so far from home." Saskia extended her arm, motioning in the general direction toward the banquet hall. "But, if I had to guess, I might assume you're a bit lost... so perhaps you'll allow me to assist. I happen to know a bit about this place after all." Saskia chuckled gently. "Or perhaps there is something you require assistance with? All you need do is ask and we'll certainly do our best to accommodate. And if we can't, well... I can only say I've tried, eh?" Saskia was not putting on an act, rather these were genuine elements of her personality.

Saskia was doing what she did best, being charming, disarming. Everything about her seemed so genuine and natural, heartfelt. But perhaps that is not how she would come across, but she seemed to have even smaller concern for that. At the moment she was away from her brother, and in the presence of someone who might find her useful and that was enough.

[Breggo13]

Alistair tilted his head as his eyes took in that change of expressions that played across the young woman’s face, going from shock to confusion to recognition and finally seeming to settle down on regard. Whatever had been going on in the room with the Prince Regent was easily pushed aside as the Princess Royal turned her attention to him, a rather awkward silence following before she reprimanded him for his behavior. The man blinked at her words, his mind taking a second to process them before one corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk and his gaze dropped to the floor to hide his mirth. At least his unexpected ascension brought benefits he hadn't thought of outside his own capitol - no one had any indication what he looked like. He had held off sending the coronation portrait to neighbouring kingdoms, claiming mourning for his brother as the cause of delay. Had he done what was expected when it was expected, he would not be able to simply wander around without everyone wondering exactly what the emperor wanted at every step.

“My apologies, your royal highness - it is my first time away from the battlefield and I was taken quite aback by the grandeur of Argent,” Alistair gave an awkward bow, his head barely dipping to be considered proper. It there was one thing the Emperor had never done in his life, it was bow down before anyone including his own family. Although his father and Sebastian had always outranked him, Alistair hadn't bowed before either since he was a little boy sent away to learn - according to his mother - proper behavior. In more simple terms, he was sent to be out of sight and out of mind. When he saw his family next, he had already bonded and with a fire breathing death machine beside him, no one dared to make him do anything he did not want. His father had only grounded his teeth and looked away, Sebastian shrugging it off. This defiance, the only privilage of his birth that he had used during his whole life, meant that even in disguise, he had forgotten all about it.

“I thank you for all your trouble in ensuring my m…comrades and I are comfortable. I am sure my commanding officer, Sir Keith, would tell you the same,” another awkward bow, Alistair mentally kicking himself for his close slip of the tongue. The easy way the princess was talking and laughing with him moments after he'd seen a more vulnerable side of her confused him - it put him on high alert, his mind trying to understand her motivations and behavior. Even in the short time at court, he had learned quickly to never take anyone at their face value for everyone wanted something, even if they weren't going to admit it. Giving the Princess Royal more insight into his presence before he was ready was dangerous.

And yet, he couldn't help himself, his concious and guilt battling his desire to simply walk away. Regardless of the negotiations or the diplomatic success of this visit, Alistair could not leave without knowing what had happened to the painting Sebastian had laughed about. This is how sentiment killed even the best of warriors, he thought darkly, his face a mask of indifference. “I heard that there was a unique portrait of the late Emperor in Argent’s castle - his wedding portrait. I was hoping to see it.”

[Hannelorian]

Saskia had only briefly noted how awkward the man had seemed around the notion of protocol. Though she had, for the time being, chocked it up to his time as a soldier. Soldiers generally had little need of such extraneous training. "The capitol is beautiful, is it not?" Saskia asked in response to the comment regarding the beauty of the realm. "Though it takes no trained eye to see the cracks." This was her own way of admitting, to the degree she could or would in front of a foreigner that nothing was exactly as it seemed, or as the Royal household wished it to be seen by their new overlords.

"As for Sir Keith, well, I'm sure he would tell me exactly what he believes I want to hear." Saskia knew people often lied to her, or rather, made every attempt to disguise the truth in order to put on a happy face, and mostly importantly, keep the Princess Royal as contented as possible. One mustn't upset the very woman who carried the weight of a Kingdom on her slender porcelain shoulders. "Though, I would only hope you are all as comfortable as can be." Saskia continued in her genuine tone, but when the man made mention of the portrait she seemed to freeze for a moment. Caught off guard, not expecting this sort of request at all. There was a profound flash of sadness that spread across her face and Saskia made no attempt to conceal it. The mention of Sebastien, now that was one that tore into her very soul, rending it.

"What an odd request." Saskia finally spoke after what felt like minutes but had only been seconds. "I... suppose there is no harm in it." The Princess Royal nodded in assent and began to walk along the corridor. "Do you mourn as I do? Over his Imperial Majesty's sudden death?" Saskia's question was sincere and hinted at the pain she felt within. "It was a tremendous shock to us all." For a moment or two the Princess seemed distracted, out of sorts, almost lost in her own home. "Follow me, please." Saskia made her way to the dimly lit stairwell and traversed upwards until they had reached a higher level.

At the landing were walls adorned with tapestries telling of the history of Lys, and in particular of the Royal family who had remained on the throne in an unbroken dynastic line for over 800 years. This level of the castle was largely reserved for Saskia's use. It was where she did all of her studies, painted, wrote her letters and tended to responses required of her. It was where her private rooms were, it was her entire world in micro. It was no surprise that this is where the portrait was housed. "I should perhaps enlighten you on a few things before you see it." Saskia's smiled seemed to have returned for the moment. "Sebastien hated the thing. Absolutely hated it." Saskia chuckled, she and her betrothed had written extensively to one another on the subject. "In fairness to him, he was quite right, it isn't terribly too close to his likeness. It was as though the artist had never seen the man..."

There was a truth and honesty in the relationship between the Princess and the late Emperor. While he had his secrets, and she assuredly did as well, there was much they discussed rather openly and usually in high spirits. "He was indulging me. Which was very much like him you see... The late Emperor was a kind man, a good man... It's rare for an Emperor to know their people the way he did. And it is my greatest sadness that you could not know him as I did." Saskia's smile was gone again as she moved quietly along the well lit path until the two had reached a dead end of sorts, and on that wall hung a single portrait the wedding portrait of the late Emperor and the Princess Royal.

"Unique was perhaps the right word. I won't tell anyone if you laugh a little bit." A small nod of her head as she motioned toward the portrait. "Take a look for yourself as requested." Saskia took a step backward and stared at the portrait from a distance. She did not watch the man, not at first as he had approached it. "I'll never know if he loved me the way I loved him. But, I do know that eventually I'll take it down. Before I leave..."

[Breggo13]

“The whole Empire mourned his passing,” he murmured, watching the woman's expression while his own mind tried to determine where he stood on the question.

Did Alistair mourn his brother? If he was being honest with himself, no. There was no sadness that his brother left this earth and Alistair had always accepted it as an inevitable consequence of his upbringing. He had seen many of the pages that he grew up with die during training, many of the squires maimed in accidents on the jousting and battlefields, buried comrades after the bonding and made decisions that left none alive after the dragon fire died down. Thus, even as he had stared at Sebastian's balmized face, looking serene and peaceful, Alistair felt nothing but anger. Anger that he had to fill in shoes he never wanted and that everyone was making bets on how long the young Emperor Alistair, first of his name, would remain alive and in power.

Long enough, Alistair smirked as he started to follow Saskia, allowing the princess to take him through the corridors of the old palace through passages he would have spent hours trying to find. His eyes leisurely brushed over the wall decorations, taking in the history of Lys depicted through the continuous line of its rulers. Stepping soundlessly, the emperor looked upon men and their consorts through the ages - fighting battles, building cities, welcoming refugees and diplomats of all sorts. One tapestry made him frown and stop before it for a second. It was the last one to be hung, judging from the brightness of the thread and full of color, depicting two men shaking hands and holding olive branches. To the left, King Poloneous was depicted as Alistair had always been told - a tall man with chocolate hair and soft eyes, above him the Lysian God of life holding a pink bundle. On the right, Alistair's own father in the red and black armor of the Empire, dragons circling above in the sky. The image of his father as a conqueror was so jarring and pathetic, Alistair couldn't bear to look at it for long.

“I certainly did not have the pleasure of knowing the late Emperor in the same way,” Alistair stopped beside the young woman, his eyes gazing upon the masterpiece. What Saskia had mentioned was true - the likeness between the man on the painting and his own brother started and ended with the blonde hair and blue eyes. The solemn expression with which his brother looked at anyone approaching was indeed laughable if only because it was the first time Alistair could see the resemblance between the two of them. Unlike Sebastian, he always had the same solemn expression that hid all his emotions on the inside, blocking them until he was cold and unreadable. His brother had loved life and people, trusted them blindly sometimes, a mistake Alistair was not about to repeat. His closest circle was composed of proven young men from the Flight, lesser sons of nobles and a few commoners who dared attempt the training of the Flight.

“The Emperor was looking forward to your union, your Highness,” Alistair's eyes didn't leave the portrait. “Though I am not sure where you plan to go? Don't you want to be free?”

[Hannelorian]

"Royal Highness." Saskia play corrected the man standing before her with a smile upon her otherwise weary seeming. "Though, you now have the great privilege to simply refer to me as 'ma'am." Stepping a bit closer toward the man and the portrait that she seemed to be avoiding as much as she could. "The honorifics are only necessary upon your first greeting. Diplomats and rules. A messy business." Saskia had to make jokes where she could, she had to be light hearted when the opportunity arose, that was how she thrived in the world. "Freedom is such a funny thing isn't it sir Knight?" Saskia lamented and shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, if we shall be personal with one another, I do believe I don't know your name." Saskia was one for names and faces, well so she thought at least. "And second, I suppose I owe you something of an explanation as to why I'm so open, so candid with a stranger." Saskia was considering her words carefully, much as she always had. "If I am to be your future Empress. That makes you one of my future subjects, does it not? And so, I believe you are entitled to know what it is I am thinking, or not thinking as it were. Leaders are more than just faces, we are people, people who owe our existence to those who serve us. And so you must know the truth when it can be afforded." The key words she spoke was the simple phrase of when it can be afforded as truth was a premium and not always available.

"The treaty of Argent was signed twenty-five years ago. It outlined a provision through which the treaty would be complete and ratified. The first born daughter of King Poloneous would marry the first born son of the Emperor of Asterious. The only problem? The King had no daughter." Saskia assumed the man knew all of this already, but it added to the story or so she thought. "I wasn't born until two years after. Can you imagine the surprise for that little boy, that Princeling... to be ten years old and told your wife was just born." Saskia laughed lightly and shook her head as though she perished the thought.

"The war still hasn't ended. We're at a long pause, a ceasefire. The war will not end until I am married. So yes, freedom is a funny thing." Saskia now was standing beside the man, but rather than looking at the painting she instead looked at him. He was tall, dashingly handsome and seemed well mannered, especially for a knight. "I can't say I know much of what freedom is. Having your fate set out for you before you even exist... it is a remarkable thing. It makes it so there can be no other possibility of a thing. This is it. This is what you get. This is your lot in life." Saskia oddly, was now smiling once more, she seemed content and at peace.

"Granted, how could I complain? I am a Princess. The Princess Royal even. My family has ruled this hand for over eight centuries. I have nothing but privilege. But even if there had been no war, no treaty, no promises. I wouldn't be free to make my own choices. I am daughter of the House of Castravet. My duty is to my people before it will ever be to myself. I serve them and as such, if it weren't an Emperor, it would be some other man whose fortunes aligned with ours to protect the family, the realm, the great peace of our people." Saskia's gaze turned to the portrait for just a moment as she looked at the image of Sebastien, no matter how poor it was.

"So. I'll go to Valadis, because that is my right by birth. I will marry the Emperor if he will have me, if my fool hardy brother does as he is supposed to and allows me. Marriage is not a cage. Asterious is not a prison. It is a land of hope and opportunity. A land rife with problems of its own, a near war on every border. But it is a land that is compromised of her people who have shown me nothing but kindness and grace since the day I was born. Sebastien's loss is great... and I will admit to you that the rumours of the new Emperor are far from pleasant in this land. But what can you expect when all you hear are stories of the horrors of war?" Saskia shook her head. "No man is one thing. But I will do as my duty commands, which is what my heart desires. So in a way, I do have my freedom. I choose this path that was set before me. I choose not to run from it. I choose to do everything in my power to bring peace and protect my homeland yes... but perhaps I can be useful too... though that question remains to be seen and that is why you are here today."

Saskia sighed heavily and turned back, walking down the corridor from which she cam slowly. "Come along now sir Knight." She playfully called him that, lacking a proper name for him. "To see if I am still a worthy prize or war is a more attractive prospect than I. But between you and me... I wouldn't bet against me." Saskia laughed she knew her strengths. "So... does that answer your question? To know that I am both free and not?"

[Breggo13]

Alistair’s lips twitched when she called him ‘Sir Knight’, a title that had barely been used since he was knighted at eighteen. That was the last time his mother had referred to him as her son, begging him to reconsider going through with the bonding, pleading him to follow a simple career of the royal guard at court and support his family. Saving him, as he guessed, for the unlikely event that the throne needed an heir. He had looked his mother in the eye and asked if she loved him. Her hesitation and anger at the words were enough to steel his resolve, all his compassion for the woman who gave him birth leaving him at once. His knighthood that had been an achievement and a source of pride became a bitter reminder of the day he cut ties with his parents. To hear it uttered years later was oddly pleasant.

“Alexander, your royal highness,” he turned his head to meet her gaze, noticing her gentle curiosity. No, he decided, having a woman whose eyes were not at the height of his belly button was a plus. Saskia still had a feminine delicateness around her without struggling to look at him. Her likeness to the portrait was much more real, painting an image of a flushed and happy bride sharing just a hint of her happiness to the world. Whoever was the artist of this canvas had certainly knew the young woman much better than her betrothed. In Alistair's mind, it was rather fitting since for all his charm, Sebastian had never been the saint most people saw. “The artist certainly knew you well.”

He frowned as Saskia started the retelling of a history he knew well though until recently, he gave it little thought. HIs southern campaigns had taken up most of his wakefulness, nightmares of those who died haunting him at night. What was to happen to the kingdom on the East was something the politicians had worried about while brave men - his men - died on the battlefields. As the girl mentioned becoming the empress, his empress, with ease as though choosing when to host the next banquet, he couldn't help a small frown to touch his features. The way she seemed to think it should come to pass was exactly the same way he had heard courtesans in Valadis - they would all blush and hide their faces flirtatiously, trying to catch his gaze from under long lashes. It infuriated him and while Saskia seemed genuine in her philosophy and able to accept that there was a chance their union would fail, it made the proverbial fur on Alistair's scruff stand up.

“You talk of marrying a man you know nothing about - a man who many believed killed his own brother to reach the throne,” Alistair turned away from his brother's gaze, crossing his arms on his chest. “Do you know no fear, your royal highness? Or are you willing to risk your life and sanity trying to tame a monster such as the Emperor? If this is bravery, I pray you, share your secrets with me and my comrades so that we can face our own demons with the same strength.”

Alistair forced his eyes to lower, growling at the ground as he tried to regain his composure. What he would give to avoid what fate or circumstance had gifted him - others may have thought they were blessed or won the lottery, many would have thought they were finally receiving what they were due. Alistair would have gladly given up this honor to be able to live how he had - his honor on the tip of his sword, his companions, those who survived multiple battles, the open sky his domain. Perhaps, it would have been different had he been born to parents who loved their children equally, who wanted them to have the same education and truly groomed a heir and spare. Had he grown at court, loved and dotted on like Sebastian, perhaps he would have been able to accept his new destiny. Perhaps, he would have even felt justified. Perhaps, he would have been pleased to do what was right and marry to avoid conflict, falling for the young woman just as his brother had.

“You mention the treaty and the first son of the empire but he is dead. Does that not break the treaty?” Alistair allowed her to start walking towards the banquet, following half a step behind like a shadow, his frame seeming to fill the corridor shadows with ease before they halted before a flight of steps that seemed to separate the floor into two, one set leading up to what Alistair could only assume were the princess’ private chambers and the others down, the faintest echoes of celebration bouncing up to where they stood. The man paused, taking in the young woman and try as he might, he could not bring himself to justify a marriage to her. She was beautiful, she was poised and…..she was so dedicated to fate that was written for her, she would do anything to achieve it. That made him frown on the inside. How could he rely on someone whose sole ambition was to fulfill the path some pompous diplomats told her was correct? Besides, she had loved his brother, the man that was furthest from Alistair - what would she think when she met Alistair in truth and would he spend the rest of his life wondering just where her mind and loyalties stood?

“I believe I must descend your royal highness,” his voice was low and soft, the flickering of the lanterns on the wall casting shadows on both of them. Alistair gently took Saskia's hand and bowed over it, bringing her skin to his lips, unable to stop from appreciating the delicate flowery scent that enveloped her. “I do hope you find the happiness and peace you are fighting for.”

[Hannelorian]

"You betray yourself sir. Alexander the Knight." Saskia's face now carried a full on smirk as he had spoken to her. For a moment he had lost himself in his passion or something that she could not put a finger on. At least not until much later. The Princess Royal had stopped before the stairs and now was a moment of rare truth between the two. Truth as far as it was available for the young woman. "There's the man I wanted to meet." Saskia stepped in closer to him and rested a delicate hand upon his chest, there was a look in her eyes that spoke of her own curiosity. "A man who wants to tell me what he really believes, what he really thinks and you are so close sir... you are so close to telling me your truth." The Princess was pushing now, she was playing her hand exactly as she had thought of it, had imagined it.

"Do you think he murdered his brother? Alistair the Emperor Slayer, Alistair the Monster? The Knight who sacrificed his family for a dragon bond?" Saskia was internally fuming, perhaps, or merely she was simply simmering here. "Because I don't. What has anyone shown to prove me anything about what kind of man the Emperor is? Hmm? What shred of evidence?" Saskia was not going to judge a man she did not know, even if that was the very man she was talking to.

"Challenge me, fight me. Change my mind, change my beliefs. For Galadh's sake talk to me like a person and not like some weak little girl who is simply doing what she is told to do. Do you think it so simple? You wonder if I have fear." Saskia shook her head and laughed lightly at the comment, the very notion, the thing he called her out on. "I fear more than you can imagine. I wake up every day in fear, I go to sleep in fear. I cross the width and breadth of our lands to a foreigner's doorstep in absolute fear. But who the hell would I be for the people of Lys if I didn't shove it all down and try my best to be the woman they deserve."

She took a step back, her hand falling from his chest. "I will never let fear stop me. Just it didn't stop my father from standing up to your late Emperor who dared to kill us for our land. And he was not a weak man to want to sue for peace. "I go not to tame a monster, but to fight with everything I have in me to preserve my people. And I do it knowing I may die, or I might become a hated and vile monster myself... but I do it because I must be allowed a chance to do something because I cannot stand by and be silent. And I will do this my way, because once I leave my home, I am beholden to no diplomats, I am beholden to no King in waiting. I forge my path in my relationship with the Emperor, with the Empire. I decide. And I will pay whatever price. Gladly."

Saskia finally let the smile fade from her face. "Sebastien is dead. Yes. The treaty as written is no longer viable. And for all I know the diplomats will reject me outright, and that's what it is. I will find a new way to fight, to do my part. But if there is even the slightest chance that this treaty can be saved... tell me why I shouldn't do it?" She was riled, not emotional, not overly bold with her voice which had remained at a constant level and pitch. She had complete control over her body and her performance. "So. Thank you, Sir Alexander. If the Emperor has any character like yours... Well. It iwll be interesting, won't it? Good evening my good Knight." Saskia turned and walked down the corridor, her hand having been kissed, she had hardly noticed that even then he was charming.

At that moment Theobald had emerged upon the stairs and remarked at the man, the one he had been told to watch who found himself on the doorstep to the Princess' private apartments. "I'll have to ask you to leave. This area is reserved for the Castravet family." He stepped out of the way and then watched as the man descended. His hackles raised in concern he immediately made his way to Saskia's own rooms, knocking on doors which had just been closed.

"Ki? Are you in here?" He called out as he stepped further into the rooms, slowly closing the door behind him. He had so often been in these rooms, everything smelled of Saskia. Her art adorned the walls. Elaborate portraits of her family members and by extension his. Just like her brother there were countless old tomes opened and strewn about as the young woman devoured all knowledge available to her. There was no end to her wonder and curiosity.

"Come, come." Saskia called as turned to the doors of her bedroom, Theobald having strode through.

"Did something happen with that Asterian Knight?" Theo asked instinctively and immediately, he craved to protect her. He wanted to know the truth of the matter.

Saskia shook her head and raised a hand in a calming motion. A signal that everything had indeed been fine. "No. He wanted to see the wedding portrait. I can't imagine why... but I saw nothing untoward. He came, he saw it and he left. Nothing remarkable to report." Saskia stood up and made her way over to her brother, her arms wrapping around him, her head coming to rest on his chest. "But all is not well Theo." Resting her chin on his chest the Princess peered up at the man who she held closely to her. "I'm afraid I've hit Crysos. Struck him." Saskia sighed, inwardly ashamed of her own actions. She did feel badly for it, even if she felt the man deserved it.

"Let me guess. He'll come after the elves first. You can't marry that monster hmm?" Theo asked, his arms embracing his sister, serving to comfort her where he could.

"Exactly... we're going to collide. Violently." Saskia confided in Theo where she would do so in no other person, save for her father who was largely unable to respond to her anymore, he was close to death and everyone knew it. "Go... go... set down to the banquet and talks. I'll be along shortly. I won't tarry." Saskia let go of her brother and returned her attentions to her final preparations, a refresh of perfume, perfecting the placement of her grand tiara. Smoothing touches to her dress.

Theo sighed and did as he was bid. There was no sense in fighting Saskia now, especially if she had slapped Crysos. "He'll forgive you Ki. He will always forgive you." Theo called out to his sister before disappearing, the words were of small comfort to The Princess Royal who was now about to make her own entrance.