Thedor 3, 229: More Angry Words

More Angry Words
Summary: Rowena tries to speak with Tyrel after being summoned to his office for another meeting. Things do not go as planned once again.
OOC Date: 3/1/2014
Related: All related to the Laniveeri presence in Mobrin
Players:
Rowena Tyrel 
Crown Prince's Office - Darfield Castle
A man's room. This spacious room is graced with a gorgeous view of the ocean. Three tall windows, topped with gorgeous stained glass look out over the harbour to east, and the ocean below. Dominating it is a truly massive, oaken desk, topped with assorted bits of small statuary and objects of art. The desk is ornately carved with an elegant vine pattern. Behind it is a rather grandiose throne of a chair, carved in a somewhat gothic style. What isn't wood is covered in black leather secured by silver studs. In front of the desk is a cluster of smaller black-leather chairs. The hardwood floor is covered in a thick purple rug with silver trim. A few silver candelabras spaced about the room in addition to a few wrought-iron wall sconces provide plenty of light. The walls are paneled two thirds of the way up the wall with a dark cherry wood. From there on up they are painted purple, and about a foot from the ceiling is silver stenciling. On one side of the room, a bookshelf lines the wall, from floor to ceiling. The shelf is filled with books from all across Daeren. A door leads to a private room for the Prince.
3 Thedor, 229

A missive has been sent inviting Rowena to meet with Tyrel. Unlike the previous invitation this one is delivered formally. 'Lady Rowena Stewert is invited to an audience with Crown Prince Tyrel Kilgour'. The scroll indicates that the Crown Prince will be available in his office with times.

Tyrel awaits in his formal mail, a suit of scale engraved to look like feathers, the helm sits on his desk. A cup of wine sits near his hand and he drinks from it occasionally as he reviews several reports while waiting. The guards outside are Knights of the Rioga in full armor and show proper respect due a lady and her knight.

While Rowena may no longer be able to hold the title of Princess in name she is one in every other sense of the word right down to bearing and her choice in clothing, things Tyrel might notice if he's looking for such. Not treasonous but it might seem like a rebellion no matter how small it is, especially seeing as how she wears a crown made of cleverly wrought silver which is bedecked with diamonds and sapphires, the latter matching the blue of her gown almost perfectly.

Pausing just within the office, Rowena and her maiden, Odelia, curtsey, while her knight bows respectfully from the waist, the others then fading into the background, leaving her to face the Prince on her own. "Young Majesty."

Tyrel rises as the ladies enter and nods, "Lady Rowena, welcome and please make yourself comfortable." He considers her for a few moments, "You should inquire with Princess Roslin, with the turning of the year such cool colors are no longer fashionable and I would not wish word to circulate that we are causing you to dress shabbily or in a way unseemly for a lady of means." He sits then taking up his wine, "Would you care for wine, mead or other refreshment?"

"The year has indeed changed," Rowena responds easily while her eyes narrow, that being at what she sees as jabs from Tyrel over her choice in attire, of all things, "and I do have clothing which is more befitting of this time of year, both in color and design." Stepping forward, she looks at him right in the eye as she concludes her answer. "But I did not choose this gown to be fashionable but rather to wear the colors of House Stewert." She even has the golden pin in the shape of a rearing lion pinned on the left side of that gown, right above her heart. "Wine will be fine, thank you," she eventually requests, some of the fire in her voice tempered, now held in check.

Sitting down, she looks around the office, her expression blank. "I am sorry I haven't gotten to see you sooner," she apologizes.

Tyrel rises and retrieves a bottle of wine, pouring himself, Rowena and her maid a goblet full. "I believe if you speak with Roslin she will be able to arrange tailors and seamstresses that can assist you in working your house colors into the appropriate attire for the season. Representing your house in shabby fashion is not something we would wish to force upon you." He takes a drink of the wine he has poured into his cup as he sits. "During our last conversation you had mentioned some purpose to your visit, I have some time today to listen to what you wish to present."

Rowena looks at him, her face now flushed red. "If you invited me here just so you can pick apart my choice in clothing then this meeting is over." Or it would be if Tyrel didn't continue. Glass taken, she sips from it, her eyes holding to the Prince's from over the rim. The first drink doesn't take long but it is just enough time for her to calm and Rowena is able to speak without the bristling tone to her voice. "I did, although at the time I was unsure as to what I could do out of fear of angering or disappointing my father. As you know, he sent me here with little direction given to me but after speaking with your sister, Roslin, I came to the conclusion that I can indeed negotiate without his expressed permission."

The glass is set down, freeing her hands entirely. "Would you be willing to discuss a prisoner exchange and, together, write a protocol for such, Young Majesty?" It's a long shot and the Kilgours might sooner spit than negotiate such details, but she did tell Roslin she'd bring it up. Now it's just a matter of praying that it'll be given consideration, at the very least.

Tyrel nods, "A messenger sent under flag of truce for the negotiation of prisoner exchange will be honored with a conversation. When your father wishes to negotiate for your release his request will not be refused outright, though it is likely to be refused." He rests his elbows on the arms of his great chair, his fingers steepling as he presses them together in front of him. He rotates his wrists so he's pointing towards her, "You should wear more powder, you flush near as brightly as my sister when emotion strikes you. If you do it intentionally, well done, if it is unintentional then you may wish to see to it."

Rowena nods and continues to do so right up to the point where Tyrel brings up her own situation, that by no means what she expected to hear. "We were told that we'd be allowed to return home come spring, Young Majesty," she reminds him, her anger welling. "That we are your guests. And now you are telling me that if my father, the King of Laniveer, asks for my return that he'll be denied?" Rowena might be misunderstanding him - gods, how she hopes she's misunderstanding him - but right now that doesn't matter. Right now all that matters is that it seems like the Kilgours have lied to her and that they are prisoners.

When her blush is mentioned she rolls her eyes and looks down and away, her teeth ground together. "I do not know why it is any of your concern if I am properly powdered or not but I'll take that into consideration," she eventually spits out.

Tyrel says, "That is treason, Lady Rowena, and I do not recall saying you would be returned. You crossed our borders without invitation, we have treated you as guests out of consideration for your noble blood and your apparent innocence." He parts his hand to reach for his cup and take another sip. "I do recall saying that we would do better than your father and not hang you and your brother. Would you be kind enough to tell me who said you would be returned? I was not under the impression you had held audience with my father, if someone of the household was mistaken in their understanding of your position I will make an effort to correct them." He puts his cup back down returning his hands to the tented position, "And so long as you are in my presence your appearance is my concern, and so long as you are in my care your presentation to the people is my concern. While we are treating you well I have no desire to see you looking bedraggled and upset, if you are going to present yourself as if we are treating you poorly then there is no reason to treat you well."

"We came under a banner of peace, hoping to act on my father's behalf. In an attempt to somehow possibly fix things between our two kingdoms, Prince Tyrel. At no time did you ever tell us we were prisoners but were instead welcomed in. So the misunderstanding is upon your head and that of your mother, the Queen." Rising quickly, the whisper of the gown Rowena can be heard as the heavy skirts fall back into place, the fabric brushing the ground once again. Leaning forward, she places her hands on the edge of the desk, fingers pressing into it so hard her knuckles turn white. "The only reason you take exception to how I dress is because it reminds you of who I am." That being because of the colors she chose to wear while coming for this meeting.

A slow, deep breath is taken, a calming inhale in through her nose and out through her mouth. "Now, if you still desire to try and negotiate for a prisoner exchange I'll write my father and tell him such. And don't worry, Young Majesty. You'll be allowed to read it and any other letter I might write to my father so you'll be sure I am not going to be trying to plot with him."

Tyrel picks up his cup and drinks again, "Control yourself, Lady Rowena, such an aggressive posture might be mistaken for a threat, especially after treason both open and implied. You came without purpose or instruction, with no message sent to announce you or ask permission to enter our lands. My mother may indeed have misunderstood, she is a kind hearted woman and my father seeks to keep her from the unpleasantness of war when he can, as do I, I will speak with her to clarify that you surrendered yourself to us, not that an invitation was extended to you, and inform her of your continued treason to clarify your stance." He rises and walks over to the sideboard to select another bottle. "You may send whatever message you wish to your father, it will be delivered without review. If you wish to share the words you send that is your option." He selects a bottle and begins opening it, "As for your dress, Lady Rowena, you seek to make a statement, that is obvious. You've done so in an outdated outfit, I offered you the resources to make your statement while remaining fashionable."

"The exception I take with you, Lady Rowena." He says as the cork pops from the bottle, "Is that you are a useless bit of fluff sent her to annoy me. You have only the points of discussion that my sister, Roslin, has hand fed you to bring to my attention." He takes a sip from the bottle, "I am rather annoyed that my sense of honor prevents me from mistreating you or executing you, despite your having earned it several times over in this conversation alone."

Rowena reins herself in. "Do you want to know why I have not, up until now, been able to feel like I had a real purpose here? It was because I felt like to try to do anything without express permission from my father would upset him. Surely you can understand a child's desire not to anger or disappoint a parent? Or are you so perfect that such concerns are not even felt?" There are many buttons being pushed here, she knows that, and it goes against her nature, the desire to be a diplomat. But she feels as if she has been wronged and she will not stand for it. "Keep your sister out of this, Tyrel. She was trying to help… or is that a lie as well?"

Her eyes roll and do so hard enough to immediately give herself a headache, the pain settling in right in the middle of her forehead. "Oh yes. You think I am behaving in a manner that is treasonous. Well, Young Majesty. If I was a subject of Mobrin and behaved in this manner then yes, I'd be guilty of such. But I am not one of your subjects. I am a Laniveeri and any claims of treason would be false." Moving, she comes in close enough to lean in close to Tyrel. "You're angry because I get under your skin," she whispers. "It was not my intentions to do that." Not exactly an apology but she at least does sound like she is sorry and does so sincerely.

Tyrel says, "I do not lie often, Lady Rowena, if I say you annoy me because you are useless, you can take it as truth." He does not flinch as she draws close, but he does shift his stance, the grip on the wine bottle changing. "I am not perfect, but I do not deceive myself about my place. You were sent here without purpose on your own. If my family was dishonorable and slaughtered you, it would be a banner to justify the atrocities your father has committed. Now that you are here I must ensure the safety of you and your father's heir, a measure of cowardice and lack of confidence in his own defenses." Tyrel meets Rowena's eye steadily. "My father is king of Mobrin and Laniveer, speaking against him is treason throughout the kingdom." He lifts the bottle and takes a sip from it, "Lastly, Lady Rowena, my wife has recently had several of the help staff flogged for attempting to bestow unwanted affections, I suggest against your attempting the same tact. I am not so easily swayed and you are not so fair."

This last as the lady has moved close enough to lean in and whisper.

"Ah, yes. Because there is no better way to punish a man than to kill his children. Children who, may I add, have not done anything but be born into the family you loath. Lovely." Shaking her head, she moves back, grinning with a show of teeth. "First off, Prince Tyrel, do not flatter yourself. I was merely whispering to you. You are by no way, shape or fashion a man I'd want to visit any form of affection upon. Secondly, do not forget that your wife, the Princess, is also my cousin. Do not put her in a position where she has to act against me when I did nothing but move in close so I could keep my voice low."

Brushing a hand down the front of her gown, now, Rowena watches before adding out of the blue, "What gives a man the right to try and lay claim to a crown? What makes my father's claim to one less fair than that of your father?" It is a rhetorical question, one asked to make Tyrel think, and is one poised just before she turns to leave. "I will not go as far as to say my father hasn't acted the monster. He has done many horrible things, things I do not approve of. I would love for nothing more than to erase all of his transgressions and make it so that your father and mine could rule, not against each other but in peace." A quick look is given to him over her shoulder, her eyes misting over with tears. "I am not the worthless piece of fluff you think me as, Tyrel. My only mistake is having hoped you'd have more of an opened mind… and heart than you do, it seems. Now, excuse me."

Tyrel says, "The gods granted divine right to rule through our blood. I would have thought your instruction would include such basic tennents of faith and rule. Your father's bloodline was called into question due to his actions, he did not behave as a king, it was revealed through study that the proper right to rule was maintained in my line. Thus the claim is correct." Tyrel speaks with little emotion, just a recitation of facts, much like quoting his lineage. "Your family holds noble blood, Lady Rowena, or I wouldn't address you as such. Enjoy your day and do speak to Roslin regarding your attire." Tyrel retakes his seat, moving one stack of scrolls off to the side and pulling another over."

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