Inouv 41, 228: Not So Veiled Promises Part Two

Not So Veiled Promises Part Two
Summary: After Bella leaves, the Queen moves to instruct Roslin Kilgour on what she will and will not be doing. Some great family secrets are revealed.
OOC Date: December 29, 2013
Related: The Surprise Offer and Not So Veiled Promises
Roslin Laetitia 
King's Study
The room is nicely appointed but austere. Floor to ceiling bookcases dominate the walls, the many-colored spines presenting a varied but demure mosaic within the walnut frames of the shelves. On one wall, a large stone hearth presents itself, the fire always tended to drive off the chill of interior castle rooms. Above the fireplace one may view a portrait of Callem Kilgour's children.
At one end the room is a heavy oak desk, always strewn with bits of writing in progress and stacked with books. Comfortable chairs are placed almost randomly around the room, each with its own table and lamp. In one corner is a rather long, comfortable couch, upholstered in azure fabric, with a blanket of llama wool thrown over the back and several comfortable pillows at one end. From the indentations in the couch, it is clear that someone naps here frequently.
Inouv 41, 228

After the common girl, Bella, leaves, Roslin heaves a sigh and moves to rise from her chair. Her steps carry her easily to a table by the wall, pouring herself a cup of wine and one for her mother. The Princess looks as fine as ever, today, in a green velvet dress with embroidered patterns of leaves and vines in gold. Her jewlery is her usual matching eight-pointed gold star and tiarra. She brings the wine over to her mother.

“Well, I must say, that was at least entertaining for me,” The Princess says, trying to bolster her mother’s spirit while soothing her anger with a bit of a joke. Roslin sips her cup. “Although I do think you were right, Mother.” She says, thoughtfully staring after the girl that’s just left. “She’s so simple I think there would be some guilt in punishing her. He summoned her because someone vouched for her as the finest scribe in the land? Truly?”

"I wish for that woman to be dead." Laetitia will murmur after sinking back into the chair, still a ball of rage that will get extended to Callem next. Lifting up her right hand she will gratefully take the wine, a steeling breath taken in before she will tilt that wine glass to her lips to drink it back slowly, draining the glass. The goblet gets set down heavily upon the desk, and Laetitia will nod her head to her daughter, "Too much guilt, I haven't a clue what your father thinks he was up to but I will wring it out of him by his very neck and inform him that he will have himself a /proper/ scribe, not some …daft sunling who drifts on beams of dust she's so light in her head."

A nod, "Likely someone who was beguiled by her …vapid state of being." The Queen will murmur, sitting back, a hand raising up to crush into her cheek, the Queen out of sorts, "I do not like cleaning up his messes, but it would seem it falls to me yet again. While he …plays. At his games. That he does not share with me." Oh, she's confiding in her daughter, jaw taut, "Dancing with commoners ….allowing them to speak to him as if they were …close." Hand will slap down to the table, curling into a fist just before it hits upon the wooden surface. Solidly.

Roslin gently takes up the glace again, turning once more for the pitcher of wine. “Leave us, please,” she says to the guards, the maids, and the others gathered there. No doubt they will all just go and wait beyond the doors, but at least it is something. Some little bit of peace and quiet.

Then? She pours some fresh cups.

“Men can be beguiled by such things? I would think that whomsoever recommended the babe ought to be thrown out on his ear. The thought of her knowing Father’s thoughts on such delicate matters … I’m sure she goes right home to tell everyone all about whatever he might say. How long would it take for a Laniveer…? Well, it’s no matter.” The redhead returns to her mother’s side, offering the cup again. IF it’s accepted, she’ll take a sip of her own.

“Is he well, Mother? At the very least, is he well? Or is this some reoccurance of his sicknesses? I was told that he was fevered and mad, for a time, on the trip to Jadda. And truthfully, he does not seem to have been the same since…”

"Indeed." The Queen states, unable to get rid of this …rigidity to her frame, it's so vexing to her that she will rise from the seat to begin pacing, a hand to her corseted stomach, her other hand touching against the side of her slender neck, the window strode to even as the fire burns merrily.

The Queen will unlatch it and push it open with both hands, leaning on the window sill to inhale deeply of the air outside, allowing the cold snowy air to hit her pale cheeks. When the cup is brought to her she will take it, holding it in against her chest lightly as she looks out to that beautiful wintery view beyond and the seas.

"I question that myself, Roslin." The Queen admits softly, though she's soon shaking her head, "He's …scheming. Doing things in darkness. I wish to believe there is a method to his madness. And I /will/ be finding out what it is he's doing. And if I do not murder him with my very hands about his neck …then you will know all is well."

Roslin watches her mother with worry and concern in her eyes. “If the woman is such a concern, mother, there are surely ways to make her find another place. It is much warmer in the south this time of year - with her poor feet I’m sure she might enjoy that. If you agree.” She sips her own wine, slowly, before turning away and moving across the room a little, eyeing the openess now that everyone has given them some privay.

“Did he tell you about the black letters, stamped with a sigil not his own? The ones he sent out just when he returned. Perhaps that is the key to understanding what it is that he means, now. What he could be scheming about.” She too moves to the open window after her mother has moved away from it, staring out into the coldness. “Inouv’s time will be done for this year soon enough. Perhaps that will make everything clear. Perhaps He is just trying to give us reason to doubt him. We won’t - we never will.”

"She is not that much of a problem, I just am enraged my husband would dishonor me so and I wish to take it out on her, but clearly she hasn't the wherewithal to have any schemes in mind." Or that's exactly what the girl wants her to think, "Regardless, if she disobeys me, or your father wishes to go against my wishes, I will simply have her killed." A shrug, the Queen stating it as a mere fact. Death. Easy peasy.

Oh, wine, in her hand, that she will drink, having managed to forget it as she clutched it tightly in her fist, "I have heard of them."

That is all the Queen will state, staring pensively then towards the fire as she strides towards it - only to move away from it with a striding kick of her skirts, joining Roslin at the window, "Yes. Likely that is it. Though your father is not helping matters."

“No, he is not. But he has us - we are here, and we shall see things set right. As you have done here today.” She does not lean against her mother or reach out for her, but rather simply stnads beside her, staring out in the snow. Like Mother, Like Daughter. Roslin does not flinch when her mother says she will have the girl killed - she expected as much, and supports the idea with a simple nod of agreement. She’s quiet again.

“I recieved one of the letters, Mother.” Roslin finally says after a time. “It said to tell no one, but if it brings you any peace I am happy to tell you. There is no reason not to - it said nothing, except that he would call upon those whom he trusted soon to support Tyrel and Ciarrah. I beg you not to tell him that I have told you this, that I may have violated his confidence in any way. But … what he is doing now is not entirely beyond our eyes.”

And then there is stony silence from the Queen at this revelation from Roslin. She will get a very stung look to her features, setting down the goblet on the window sill, turning away and accidently knocking it out with a sweep of her hand out to the cliffs below, the Queen nodding once.

Both hands will tuck up to her chest, fiddling with her necklaces, the Queen feeling ill now. Her words do not bring comfort, just further cement that the Queen is being pressed further and further into the dark by her husband.

But she will take all those feelings, pressing them down tightly into her chest, she still has to talk to Callem. Turning then she'll nod to Roslin. Again. Opening her mouth to speak but there is nothing to say. A forced smile, and she will nod. Again. She can't stop that. The smile that's forced is soft and sad and she nods again. Oh she must stop nodding.

"Good." Finally, a word. A sort of trembling sound, though she's stuffing things down, as she speaks, "We ..also must speak to you. On other matters. Regarding marriage." Change the topic, let Roslin rage for a while.

Roslin glances down as the goblet goes spinning ass over teakettle away, then turns to her mother. She frowns even deeper. It doesn’t take a fool to see when one’s mother is hurting. Daughters know their mothers a little, for as much as mothers know their daughters entirely.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I did not mean …I only meant that I do not wish for you to worry too greatly. What he does and what he will do will be known. And we shall support him in every way that we can. That’s all I meant.” She begins to step a few steps toward her mother, as if to comfort her. But then she stops, as though she’s just been frozen in place. “Marriage? Whose marriage, Mother?”

"Yours." Nope, she's not commenting on Lemming any longer, no. She is here to speak of marriage, and her voice will flow out softly, sweetly, "Your father." Yes, she'll throw him under the bus, "Had spoken about marrying you to Duke Crawford, so that we may strengthen the Crawford line and ensure its vitality. I agreed with him, and have spoken to the Duke about it. He is worried we are wasting you, which …is likely true." The Queen admits, "But to keep the family loyal to us, and to not allow it to die away …it is seen as something worth investing in." The Queen will look for her goblet, it was right there by the window.

A blink. Ah well. Her head shaking, "Of course it was only after I had approached him to see if he even had any interest that I found he had much interest. And that you two are quite familiar already." That is a decidedly annoyed tone found in her voice now, this giving the Queen something else to focus on.

"Think on it. But you will not be seen with him - Well. He's gone now to Sutherland at any rate …" A sigh, the Queen smoothing hands over her abdomen gently, "But when he is back, until a decision is made, you are not to be with him. Unless you are seated far from him. And in a crowd of nobles. Or your father or I are there. I want this ..if it works out, to be ..seen as good. Not …a thing like …Caillin and …Ruthgar."

Roslin stares at her mother. One moment they were a united front, united against the King’s tart, coming together to keep the realm together. And in the next? In the next moment the floor is spinning and the sky is falling and Roslin is falling out the window like that damn cup, ass over teakettle. To steady herself, the woman puts a hand high on her belly and takes a few breaths.

“No,” she finally breathes. It is a word of shock and surprise. “That cannot be true. Father swore to me that my marriage would bring great things for our family. I knelt before him and promised that I would do all that I could do to please him and in return the people of Mobrin would sing my name for the things I would bring them…” she’s speaking quickly, looking down and away, talking it through herself for a moment.

Control. There must be control. There must always be control. Roslin slowly lifts her head. A princess now - there is no daughter here, no more loving care or concern. “Forgive me. I do not mean to argue. If this pleases you, I shall be silent on the matter. I must ask one thing before … I take my leave.” She pauses a moment, shaking hands setting the wine cup down nearby.

“Is this because of Logen? Are you so angry with me for my anger to him that this is my payment?”

Breaking just a little, Laetitia will look upon her daughter, exhaling out sharply, a hand coming up to the side of her head to smooth back into the curls that have been neatly assorted beneath her crown, "No. No. You are not being punished for Logen. I understand your grief towards him, and I would not punish you for something so petty."

Said firmly, the Queen glancing off to that window again, which will in short order have something thrown through it, and the head in the fire. And things broken all over the office as she speaks to her husband. It will indeed be an ugly, ugly sight.

"You are, my dear. You will …ensure the Crawford line is tied to ours ever eternally." Its simply said, the Queen walking towards her daughter, "It is indeed the month of Inouv, is it not, when he toys with us thusly. If this was a payment for Logen, then what am I paying for from your father? No. It is simply things are. But, we will see. I haven't a clue what your father has in mind, and we did gain missive that …perhaps the dowry for Duke Crawford is not at risk as we thought it was. Perhaps your father will simply push forwards with that, and you will gain a measure of peace that you have been spared a marriage you do not wish." No, she'll just get another one.

"I am to be a gift." Roslin says with a bitter smile. There are tears in her eyes but none fall. She causes no scene. "The man loses his sister to my brother's affections and our marriage proposal for him to wed a foreign enemy fails and I am the prize by which we make amends for our failures to his house. The Crawfords have had two marriages to bind them to us but our handling of our own vassals is so poor that now they require another. I understand perfectly, Mother. It is so fortunate you have a new daughter, so you shall not even feel the useless loss of this one." The princess shakes her head. bitterness, betrayal, hurt. it is all there to be seen by anyone with eyes. "Naturally I will do as you wish. I am yours and as such you may do with me as you please to make up for past failures. I shall not speak nor see His Grace should he return to the city. Though he has said he shall only return when father sees fit to see him so you shall know his wereabouts better than I." That look of betrayl settles on her mother a long moment. "Will that be all, your majesty?"

The Queen watches her daughter come to the bitter realizations that come with bring part of a Royal family. Even with that burn directed at Laetitia, it really is too good to not acknowledge that, well, yeah. Burn. She would have said the same. Oh, just too good.

The Queen will nod a little, "Perhaps. Though you do have my promise that your father …will be returning. If I have to rip the flesh off his face and salt it before pressing it back once again." She's still feeling all blood thirsty and man. Does she ever want to rip off a face, "Do not take out your bitterness on a small infant who can't defend herself, Roslin." The Queen will chide softly, "There is enough time for that when she is walking and talking, for you and all the others."

A pause then, the Queen steeling herself, because the King will be here soon.

"Your father /will/ be sending word. If he does not, I will. And yes, that will be all, my daughter."


Roslin lowers herself in a cursty of the utmost respect and dignity. The gesture and the pose would be well-placed during a meeting of dignitaries, of Kings and Queens, and even then it would be appreciated for it’s grace and strength. Once it is passed, Roslin turns and calmly makes her way out of the room.

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