Inouv 41, 228: Make A Difference

Make a Difference
Summary: Roslin comes with distressing news and speaks with her brother and Ciarrah
OOC Date: 30/December/2013
Related: The Surprise Offer and Not So Veiled Promises Part Two
Players:
Roslin Tyrel Ciarrah 
Royal Suite
This spacious sitting room is simply but stylishly decorated. Finely woven patterned rugs cover most of the marble floors and compliment two white leather sofas arranged to face each other near the center of the room. The wall to your left as you enter contains an oak door on the near portion and a spacious hearth on the far portion, where two additional sitting chairs and a small table rest. To your right as you enter is a mahogany door next to an extensive bookshelf which hosts a collection rich with both art and science titles. Tapestries of places throughout the continent adorn the walls on both sides. Directly in front of you, the far wall is covered with lush foliage, hanging and potted plants collected from exotic locales. The room is kept lit by small brass and crystal chandeliers.
Inouv 41, 228

The Princess Roslin Kilgour had quite a bit of her brother's time today, so it might be unusual that she's here again, before even word of their parents' fight has gotten around the castle. But here she is, dressed just the same as before - a hunter green velvet dress embroidered with gold leaves and vines. She is complete with tiarra and eight-pointed star. But she looks somehow … disheveled. Her hair is fine, her back is still straight. But there is a slight redness to her eyes and her hands grip one another much more tightly before her than usual as she asks for her brother.

-

Tyrel had been resting, so close to sleep, then awakened, then the guards ring the bell that signals a guest, then they ring the pattern that signals Roslin. There is a special ring for her, it was instituted after being discovered that she was prone to biting. In a few moments Tyrel steps into his receiving room wearing the padded leather pants that go under his chain, carrying the jerkin that goes with it, "Tell her I'm dressing but that I'm decent enough she can enter if it is crucial she not wait." He is barefoot and his hair disheveled as he works to right the jerkin before putting it on.

-

Just a few minutes after hearing the arrival, Ciarrah steps out looking composed and serene, her dress is the silver and royal purple colors of her new house. At the moment, there is no tiara resting on her golden locks, though her feet are bare of the usual slippers she wears everywhere. She looks back at Tyrel, a blush seeping into her cheeks, and then she notices the state of Roslin. With haste, she hurries over, reaching for the younger girls hand. "Princess Roslin? Has something happened?"

-

Roslin does come in - what does she care if her brother is decent? He's gross - and blurts out the words before realizing Ciarrah was there. "Mother is giving me away to Duke Crawford." Oh. Hi Ciarrah. Hi Ciarrah holding her hands. She looks down, looking gape-mouthed at the woman. Ciarrah. What does one say in front of Ciarrah? The woman is fairly foreign to Roslin herself, and each time she's tried to see the future Queen, Roslin tries to behave her best. So to see her, now … it makes her a little stuck.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I did not realize I was interrupting your rest. I assumed I was interrupting his…" His being Tyrel. "But I … well, I'm sorry." She didn't care she was interrupting Tyrel's rest is what she means.

-

Tyrel pauses having sorted the jerkin but not yet committed to the awkward moment where he would be defenseless while it goes over his head. He shifts his stance, weight moving onto his back foot as he observes Roslin caught out of sorts before his wife. Point Ciarrah. He then says, "Mother has never given away anything, and you are well aware of that." He then lifts the jerkin up and slithers into it, the heavy leather and stitched rings jingling as the slide down over him. "I doubt she would begin with her daughter." He begins tightening the straps that hold the jerkin in place and change it from an impossibly heavy nightshirt to a somewhat reliable defensive garment. "Ciarrah, would you be kind enough to give Roslin a hug, pat her on the head and say, 'there there'. She seems in need of it."

-

Ciarrah offers her a warm and gracious smile, releasing her hands so that Tyrel can come and comfort his sister. Her brow puckers slightly at the words that she had blurted out upon entry, and it is rather disturbing. Only just barely is she able to hold her own tongue from blurting out something equally unhappy. Instead, she settles for allowing Tyrel to compose himself. His words to his sister earn him a scolding look.

"Do not be condescending, My Prince, to her genuine dismay. Every princess has dreams and one of them is not to become a Duchess." Indeed she does offer Roslin a brief hug, just a touching of cheeks, but for sympathetic reasons and reasons of comfort than to do as Tyrel had directed.

-

"I know my ears, Tyrel. She has confessed to it. I challenged her to it - that Crawford's sister lost her life to Logen's affections, that the proposed marriage with the Kundari is about to fail over the dowry, and that I would be the gift to console his wounds - and she has confessed it." Roslin bites her tongue to stop the words from spilling out. It helps, too, that a woman is hugging her and touching her cheek. Etiquette dictates that she respond accordingly, and she does, but it all seems very out of place. "You are too kind, your highness. I do not … dispair to be a duchess. I dispair for my hand and my life to mean … nothing." She looks back to her brother. "I fell to my knees and I swore to Father that I would do all in my power to make him proud, and in return he would see me wed to bring great things to Mobrin. Money, troops, alliances … it is all I wished for." Tears well up in her eyes. "But now, she has confessed it, I am to be given away to make up for her own mistakes. It is her right, I know but … Tyrel, surely you can convince her to leave off this madness. Surely I am worth something to someone … somewhere."

-

Tyrel nods as he tightens his straps, "Oh I'm aware this is not the fondest dream she held but I've found Roslin is far more manageable after the course the river of her thoughts were running has been damed once. She has a stubborn streak and without someone to check her progress she will not often consider the other courses of action. I don't know where she gets such a thing." He shifts then to the side as a strap goes a hole to tight, it would seem, and he loosens it then smoothes the leather and chain over his middle. "You see, she still runs forward without listening to herself."

He walks over to the pair of women, "So, you are not a gift, you are a repayment of debt." He reaches a hand between the women and catches Roslins chin with his hand his fingers going beneath her jaw and tilting it upward as he turns her face first one way then the other, "You are not without importance, but are the last hope for a failing line." He presses down on her chin to tilt her head foward and inspect her eyes. "You are not without worth, but instead will be given the care of the source of the kingdom's wealth." He releases her chin then. "I should probably allow you to consider in your misery as Mother and Father would be well aware of these things and would only allow you to feel sorry for yourself because you deserved it for some reason but I've never been able to enjoy your misery when I was not the cause."

-

Ciarrah remains standing back now to allow brother and sister to speak, feeling badly for the Princess, but as Tyrel has his say, she murmurs to him softly. "No I could not imagine where she gets it from." She laces her fingers together, though waits for a break in the talking to make an offer. "If you would both like to have a seat, could I get either one of you wine? My brother brought Aberdeen Ambrosia with him when he arrived from home. It is a delightful strawberry blend with a dash of raspberry and grape."

-

Roslin lets her brother take hold of her chin and move it how he desires. There's tears in her eyes still but Roslin has a strong sense of control - not a one of them falls. "I will be given nothing - Ronan Crawford manages his own line, his own lands. Marriage is the last great thing I can do for my family. And now it will be as though I was never here." She lets her head fall once Tyrel releases her. "I asked if she was angry wtih me over Logen. If this was why she was doing this. But she said no. I told you, Tyrel, all I ever wished was to be useful. And now I am not even that. Unmarried, at least, I had the potential to be." She looks to her sister-in-law and nods a little, composure regained a bit. Every time she looks at Ciarrah, she stands a little more on ceremony. "Please. Thank you. Although I would have a cup of that foul bother that Tyrel usually drinks." Strongwine. Liquor. Things of that nature. "If it would be alright. I just …. they both promised me that my marriage would matter. And it won't. At all."

-

Tyrel looks to Ciarrah then gestures towards one of the bottles, "Drink as you prefer, but you're not leaving the room until you're sober again so if you plan on drinking more than a little plan on sleeping in the maid's bed. Ciarrah, the bluish bottle, it should be sweet enough to suit her." He moves to the couch somewhat bullishly escorting Roslin over and seating her then taking a seat himself. "Ciarrah, do you have anything you should like to add? I do not feel like rehashing the same points until she's composed herself a bit more. She hasn't even given me a hug yet."

-

As soon as the words are out, Ciarrah gives a quick nod and move with grace to the sideboard, much different than before she had the twins. Once there, she withdraws a goblet, a shorter one, and pours some of the stronger, potent liquor in there, splashing it about three fingers high. Likewise, she pours her husband an equal amount before returning to offer both to the siblings. "If you do not prefer the match, perhaps remain rather adamant in your misgivings. Even as your brother has said, it could be seen as a slight to the Kundari to both offer and then challenge their own offer with a counter match."

-

"I do not want a hug," Roslin says easily and perhaps a bit shortly to her brother. "And neither do you. I desire …" she reaches out to take the glass. "I do not know. The offer is made - my parents' promises to me broken. And Duke Crawford has seen enough of this madness already, in his short time as leige of his lands." She turns that pink color that Tyrel is always hassling her over, looking between the pair before her. "I do not dispair over the man. He is what all knights and lords should be - as much as yourself, Tyrel, or nearly so. I have the highest respect and admiration for him. But … everyone at court including myself all thought I would be married for some great arrangement. It has been my whole life. And now I don't know what to do. But now that mother has a new babe she can afford to … give me away." She reaches for the drink and sniffs it, before taking a gulp like it was wine.

And then she died. Or near enough to.

Fire in her throat and belly makes her cough, almost hacking, for a few moments. She leans hard forward, but covers her mouth. Still somewhat Princessly. Eyes watering, she leans back, letting it settle in her throat and stomach. "My belly is on fire…" she complains for a moment. It takes a few seconds more to become composed.

"I do not think it will be a great harm to the Kundari. There were already questions regarding the dowry before this came about - at least, I think this came after the questions regarding the dowry. Gods be good…" she looks bewildered at the pair. "He escorted myself and a few ladies to the Festival. We danced together. We dined together the day before he left. He must have known … and he never said a word."

-

Tyrel watches Roslin take a gulp then double over, "That was…a considerable amount of drink, Roslin." He sips at his mead, "And yes, he was inquiring after you for quite some time, though I'm uncertain when he was made aware of mother and father accepting his suit for your hand." He leans back in his seat, "So, since this arrangement is meaningless in your eyes, explain to me a marriage that would be meaningful. Contrast it against what will not occur in Sutherland." He looks then to Ciarrah, "This is why I wish you to speak with the Queen soon, by the by, I've no wish to see our daughters in this state and she has adroitly managed to send her to me leaving my father in peace."

-

Ciarrah thins her lips, remaining standing back during the coughing, though there is sympathy in her blue eyes as she considers the Princess. "It is in my experience, Your Highness, that if you want something done, you have to arrange it yourself. It is not by accident I came to marry the son of my fathers best friend. Prince Conall could have married Caillin for all of that. I wanted something and I went after it." This is the first time that Tyrel has heard of this.. "Since, I have fallen in love and now we have our own small start of a family, but you need to make things happen and allow people to believe it was their idea all along." She pats her husbands shoulder, wearing a quiet smile.

"Instead of settling for something, then you find exactly what you do want. Something that would make the most sense. I heard rumors of the Jadda and the Laniveer consorting. Perhaps now is the time to remind your mother how useful you could be to the heir of the Jadda, and how convenient an alliance would be at the moment, securing them as an ally during these very uncertain times. No one else will fight for you, Princess, you must remove the gloves from your hands and soil them slightly, and fight for what you believe in and make your life what you want it to be."

-

Tyrel takes a sip of his mead as his expression registers a rather remarkable amount of surprise.

-

Roslin pushes the glass off into the hands of her brother with the remains still inside. "I don't want anymore," she complains. And then she looks up at her brother. "He … he inquired? You were aware that all of this was transpiring? Why did you say nothing to me? No - don't answer. It doesn't matter. I would have gone straight to Father but I do trust his judgement. IF he has done this, there must be a why. And what's more, he won't see me now. Mother is likely murdering him as we speak." She sits back in her chair a little to expalin. "Father saw a common girl with no escort yesterday. Mother heard of it - the girl is child-brained, referred to father as Mister Callem. He…" Roslin moves her eyes to Ciarrah a moment. "Well, it doesn't matter. Mother's positively furious. I've never seen her in such a state. The common girl has been delt with and so too now is Father, I daresay." She looks between then again, shaking her head. "I wanted … something that would make everyone thankful that I was ever a Kilgour. I wanted to bring Father a new fleet of ships, or a new alliance, that might assist in the war. The Moniwid were a possibility, but … I must admit that option terrifies me. Snakes, all of them. Never know which way they'll turn. Our relations with them aren't strong enough that a woman be shipped off to live on thier islands. Father and Mother both think this. Skingaard won't enter the conflict without good reason, and a marriage isn't it. The Hills are all divided, and Jadda…" She sighs, lowering her eyes. "Jadda will not have me, though Father has already asked them to."

-

"Jadda are looking for the best offer. That is the game, Princess Roslin. They spoke to your father and politely declined. Now they are speaking with the Laniveer and will do the same. You must up the ante and see what it is they want, what you can offer them that no one else can. Something that will checkmate their objections and make them wonder what they were objecting all along. You must do this on your own if you cannot get others to listen. Enlist the help of another. Write them, see that they have much to hear by coming to meet with your father and yourself. Plan the meeting and surely your father will come. This is the alliance he has wanted above all other. You must fight for yourself and not simply turn the other cheek. Where is the fire and the spark? You are simply turning over and laying down on a bed not meant for you, ready to produce heirs for a Duke instead of a future King." Ciarrah beseeches her with a passionate voice.

-

Tyrel finishes his slow sip of mead letting Roslin have her say before looking towards Ciarrah, "You and I will discuss encouraging young women to disobey the will of their parents later." He then looks towards Roslin, "You are a woman, Roslin, no matter your blood you would not have brought a fleet of ships or a new alliance. Your skills would have been wasted for a decade as you strove to earn some confidence amongst the people who took you as a show piece for the arrangement. Long after the war, and the rearing of children which would have been your only contribution you might have some small influence upon the people, but at best this would have been what little of our culture you could impart on your children." He takes another drink. Then looks at Ciarrah, "The Jadda are savages ruling a savage land, Ciarrah. Disease ridden and filthy, half the company that set out to greet them did not survive, I would not send my sister into that save in dire need, she would as likely die traveling to meet her husband. They put no stock in the blood of kings, why should we throw pearls before swine?"

Tyrel then looks back to Roslin, "By taking your place in our kingdom those skills which you have acquired will be useful to me and the kingdom immediately, you will be a resource to be relied upon, not a foreigner to be watched."

-

Roslin frowns a little at Ciarrah. "My fire is with my blood - with my family, Your Highness. Your family too, now." She looks to her brother and goes quiet, nodding as she listens to his wisdom. A pain in the ass she may be, but a loyal, know-your-womanish-place sort of pain. She looks down at her hands and back to her brother. "Sutherland is not far. I would never be far from you. To assist you, to be … useful to you." She looks back at her hands again. "I could build my roads," she says, suggesting. She goes quiet again, looking down. "Mother always called me a Queen, like her. I always thought … that I would be. I do not wish to be like Caillin, howling to the heavans about how she would be Queen and now she will not. Queen is … not truly what I wanted. I just wanted to be useful. I daresay, if I stay in Mobrin, in a way I still am. I could be useful to Mobrin for my entire life. I'm just …" she turns to look up at her brother again. "Tyrel, I feel so lost. I always knew what my life would be. And now I do not. Duchess … it sounds so empty now. I would lose the respect and admiration my name carries now, would I not?"

-

With a knowing smile, Ciarrah pats her hand on his shoulder again. Good cop, bad cop down pat. She is rather impressed he went along with it. With a look of pride, she transfers her gaze to Roslin. "You are indeed correct, Princess Roslin. Family matter first. You should certainly do as your father says and as your mother bid, for their own reasons. Your family… perhaps their best reason is they would never want you sent so far away from home that they would never see you or their grand children. It is a greater testament of their love that they would sacrifice any great and distant matches, to benefit someone they admire and respect, other than someone who was a stranger and could easily go back on their word once you are there." Impressed with the way things had gone, she moves to kneel before the Princess. "How could one lose respect for someone who had the good of the family, the good of the Kingdom at heart? You will ever be your fathers princess. I know this, as my father has told me much the same. Do him a justice and wear a smile for him and allow him to see he has given you your hearts desire whether he has or not. Sometimes growing up is allowing others to be happy in your stead."

-

Cop a what? If Tyrel was playing a role he's doing so masterfully and with great conviction. He looks sips his mead again as Ciarrah moves to speak to Roslin and when she finishes he says, "The question was once put to me, Roslin, what I would be without my name. The memory of the exact response is dim but I believe I said that without my name I would still be Tyrel Kilgour, others would just have less warning of what that meant. You will forever be Roslin, and ever a Kilgour no matter what other titles and mantles you might take, and always a princess so long as you comport yourself as a princess should." He sets his mead down, "Oh, and do not be so quick to judge me. My sister is marrying a man I respect rather than some savage and will be useful when I feared she would be lost to distant lands. While she is upset, I'm quite pleased with the outcome, and I should very like a hug." He considers for a moment, "Assuming that the drink has not upset her too much, I am puked upon often enough by my sons."

-

"It burns as though I have swallowed fire, but you are safe with me," Roslin admits. She looks between the pair. "I am … dreadfully sorry that I upset your sleep. I only wished … I don't know. I may stay and be useful to my country. I daresay there is some comfort in that. Though my parents … I cannot say I am not wounded by them. All my life they have told me I should be a Queen, or very nearly to. Mother herself says this match is a way of wasting me. I cannot pretend that their words proving so false does not ache as much as my belly now. When I thought I was to go to Jadda, I was terrified. To be alone, with the clothes they wear … life will not change for me so much here. And I shall be by your side whenever needed, to do as needed." She looks to her brother and finally gives in to the hug he requests. It's an honest, open gesture. Even if she sniffles just a little. "You do think he is a fair man to be tied to, then? I … he is gone to Sutherland, now. I wish he had not, but even were he here, mother has forbidden me to speak with him without a room of people between him and myself. She does not want any match announcement to ring of … Caillin and Ruthgar."

-

Ciarrah rises to her feet and quietly steps back, allowing the siblings to continue to talk. "I will go feed the children now." She turns on her heel and walks gracefully to her room and closes the door quietly her, completely missing the offer of the hug.

-

Tyrel watches as Ciarrah departs his eyes tracking her then looks back to Roslin, "I believe you will be more the Queen than you expect, Roslin. Ronan is a good man and a brave fighter but he was not first born, his training will have differed as Logen and mine did." He settles back into his seat taking his mead up again, "Sutherland's relations with the Kundari are strained and we seek an alliance that will have them moving goods through Sutherland, I do not think they will be pleased and Ronan may wish to refuse outright. It is likely good that he was not here now, however, as you would have insulted him greatly with your little outburst had he overheard it."

-

"If he were here I should have controlled myself, I am sure." Roslin sits back, frowning as she looks down at her hands resting on her dress. "I can control myself better. It was just so much of a surprise. But if I may admit, I am rather fond of the man himself. I admire him, as I said. There was a time…" Roslin flushes brightly again, glowing for her brother. "He mentioned, once, he wished he had something to offer to request my hand. But he did not. We agreed not to speak of it, and we did not. But you think he might refuse me, even so, because of the Kundari?"

-

Tyrel says, "Refuse you? No, I do no think he will do that. I think he will resist an arrangement that give Kundari freedom to walk through his duchy and you will need to find way to explain the need for it. He lacks…diplomacy, I suppose is the word, though it seems to describe a failing rather than his nature. He was dangerously offensive towards mother and father when discussing the possiblility of marriage to the Kundari, you will need to mitigate that lack in his training. I believe he sees that and will readily take advantage of it. Else he is just besotted with…I suppose your nose, is that what the bards say is attractive about you?"

-

"I have never had a bard say that any part of me was attractive. All I know is that I blush too much and I am shaped like a boy. You told me that." Roslin looks past where Ciarrah has retreated away, and then back to her brother. "I should not keep you from your rest. You are busy, always, and the morning will be no different. If this truly is to be, we will talk of it more." She looks up at him, though, suddenly so young despite being a full six and ten years of age. "Thank you, Tyrel, for making me calm for this. I'm quite frightened but … I don't loathe the world, now, like I did before."

-

Tyrel looks over Roslin carefully for a few moments, "You, sister, are entirely incorrect. A number of bards and some of the most atrocious poets I've had the displeasure to hear have tried many times to compose odes to enchant you. The generally begin with your hair, compare it to your lips and go on at length with talk of rubies, fire, sunsets and strawberries." He waves his hand about, "Some then stay to the green of your eyes, others who generally walk away bruised speak of the sway of your hips or the graceful curves that blossom and wait only to bloom for your husband." He considers, "Those, I usually cause to bleed a bit. I'm sure Ronan will be delighted to further educate you, and I will make every effort to only injure him slightly when he does, regarding the appeal you have to men who do not call you sister." He then adds, "Though you still wear far too little powder."

-

"When I am old, I will wear powder. As to the rest of it, I do not believe a word." She flushes all the same. "I daresay it would be easier to convince him if there were a proper road running along the trade path. But that, I daresay, is for another day." She rises again, leaning forward to give her brother a kiss on the cheek. "I will go to my room now, and try to sleep a little. I do not know how much I shall, but … well, I suppose we will see. Good night, brother. I shalln't bother you agian tonight. I promise."

-

Tyrel rises to see Roslin to the door, "If there is need, Roslin, come, though be careful with your promises. I may choose tonight to take you on the tour of my duties and a promise that you won't bother me would cause you fits as you strove to ask questions without doing so."

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