Thedor 9, 229: Of Priests and Promises

Thedor 9, 229: Of Priests and Promises
Summary: Tyrel informs Roslin of the upcoming marriage and discusses the troubles with the temple.
OOC Date: 01/10/2014
Related: None
Tyrel Roslin 
Roslin's Chambers
Room description
IC date of RP

Tyrel is tired, he’s sore, he’s got a wife waiting, and yet he still drags his wretched and exhausted self through the halls of the castle after depositing his wife in their room to care for the children. It doesn’t show, of course, he still walks like an arthritic cat, stiff and graceful in some strange way. A few questions later and he finds himself nearing the room of Roslin where the guards indicate she was last headed. He raps on the doorframe and pauses a moment waiting for reply as it is late enough in the evening she might be dressing or undressing.

Roslin is, in fact, preparing for bed. On a normal night she might normally have been in bed by now. But it’s not a normal night, is it? So her lady in waiting, Elisabeth, shows the Prince in.

Roslin’s room is twice as big today, as the large velvet curtain she’s hung to seperate the public and private spaces has been drawn back, allowing one to see back where her huge four-poster bed with curtains sits, near a table and chairs and sofa by a second fireplace and a vanity. Roslin is stepping out from that portion of the room to greet her brother. She wears that heavy woven purple robe of hers, the one that ties high at the neck and has loose, long sleeves and a matching hem to keep her fingers and toes warm. Her red hair is braided over one shoulder.

“Tyrel,” she says, not masking her surprise at seeing him. “It’s so late. I didn’t think you’d come tonight.” She did, after all, ask to speak with him. “Come sit by the fire back here, it’s warmer. Elisabeth, wine please.” She turns and begins walking back to the bedroom, where the fire is pipping more. There’s chairs and a sofa there, so they will be able to sit comfortably. As she walks, she talks. “I hope you’re not here because you’re mad. Lord Elisen really ought to learn to control his own temper, and when I saw him beginning to unweave … well I think it all works in our favor.”

Tyrel steps into the room shaking his head, “No, Roslin, I am not mad, though I do not believe that Lord Elisen was unweaving, we talked earlier that his deference to his sister might be a facade to allow negotiation that could be put aside later, I think we have simply moved past that particular gambit and now begin the real game.” He looks her over a few times considering her rob, “Check the ties on your robe, Roslin, be certain they are secure.” He waits a moment or two for such to be done then says, “I came to inform you that the contract for your hand has been signed, and that it does include quite a large provision for the construction of your roadway. I imagine mother did not keep you entirely in the dark regarding the contents of the contract but if she was still doing so thought you should hear word on the matter first, directly, rather than from whichever maid is rushing in this direction as we speak.”

Roslin lifts her hand to her robe, checking - yes, everything is secure. But in that moment, as in all those moments when Tyrel prods at her, it is all a farce. She lets it slide, though, and lets her hand fall.

Betrothed. So it is done, then. And for her roads - that does give her pleasure. The betrothal, in the moment, however, is a very scary thing. “I see,” she says, nodding a few times and looking at the ground. “I thank you for bringing this directly to me. Was everyone satisfied with the arrangements? And … what will happen now?” Given that there is a wedding to be planned, executed, and yet there is no clergy in the city to do so. She gestures again.

“Once that is settled, if you have the time, I do want to speak with you about the Stewarts a bit more. I disagree some with your assessment - I believe he did unweave. In our most cross moments with each other, Tyrel, you would never have done what he did to his sister in that room. In doing so I believe he may have lost her support in these matters. Your letters, at least from her hand, will still go out I think. And I do not think it particularly harms us to have them at each other’s throats.”

Tyrel gives her a moment to finish her thought before he steps forward, gives her a hug and spins her about in a circle before setting her down. He chuckles as he looks at her, “There, I’d have felt terrible if you’d fallen out of your robes.” He then settles down into one of the chairs. “What happens next is what always happens, Ronan will strive to prove himself worthy in your eyes so that you do not refuse his bed come the wedding night…I think that will not be much a concern based on how brightly you blush at the suggestion on other occasions.” He gives her a moment to get that thought cleared then continues, “I will be meeting with the religious council in three days, at that time I will give them opportunity to be sensible and I will attempt to be the same. If they continue their foolishness then I will force the matter, and have them ordered to comply with my wishes. If they continue to resist, I will have them replaced.”

Tyrel looks towards the fire, “I do not like any of this, but they place too much at risk with their faith in the gods to protect them. They hold no treasures of their own so they do not understand the lengths others would go through to seize them.” He blows out a breathe then looks over to Roslin again. “In regards to the Stewerts, you are quite right, I would never do as he did without purpose. I will not make the mistake of thinking Lord Elisen is any less a man than I, only one who has been educated incorrectly. Where before we contested with one voice now we contest a pair of voices that can seem to speak opposite each other. It is possible that the fight was in earnest, but I would not stake a wager upon it.”

Roslin is not expecting to be grabbed, but she is. She lets out a little shriek of surprise, bringing up her arms to protect herself as she is spun. Her feet find the ground, unstably at first, and then with a bit more footing.

“All the same,” Roslin says, settling down and smoothing out her skirts. The maid comes over, offering wine to the pair. Roslin takes one for herself - Tyrel’s is a different sort, less sweet and more strong. “My efforts, I think, may be better spent on the Lady Rowena. I think I may yet be a sympathetic figure to her, and she is so very much in need of those now. While your wife, too, will be helpful in this regard, I want her to have examples of people of Mobrin who are not, necessarily, her direct enemy. If their fight was in earnest, she may be seeking a way out from beneath her brother on these matters. But I will admit, he did surprise me yesterday. Not terribly so, for we have always taken every word they have said as a lie. But enough - I really had not thought him all that smart. He tried to cover it - maintaining that his very presence was an offer for peace - but we shall get to the bottom of this yet and their purpose here, I am sure. I wish we could simply hang them both and be done with it, if I am honest. I do not like having them here at all.” She sits back, comfortably, and sips her wine, gazing into the fire.

“There is somethign else,” she says after a moment of meditation. “Last night - no, it was this morning. I had a most terrible dream. I would say that it was more than that - a strong dream, a presence even. Perhaps it is my own mind playing tricks on me, but in the night like this with a cup of wine in my hand I feel bold enough to admit that I may well have been visited by Sess. Why and to what end I do not know. But his intentions, I interpret, were not towad the betterment of my health.” She looks gently up at her brother.

Tyrel considers for a few moments, “A man in brown robes, tattooed as Sess is said to be, wielding a hammer while a blinded woman looks on.” He offers, “If that was your vision, I have heard it before and sent word asking for guidance from the priests of the council regarding it. I have not known the patron of knighthood as a man who would threaten women, but to claim to know a god well is folly.” He drinks some of his wine, “From Ciarrah, and by mother’s reaction from her as well, though she did not voice it fully, I have heard that warning. I do not care for visions.” He sets the cup back down, “They are not in keeping with the faith as I believe it, and I have some hope explanation will be found when I speak with the council. Until then, sister, I ask you to bear such discomfort as you suffer bravely.”

Roslin seems quite surprised when she is not the only one to have had the dream. The vision. The experience. Whatever it may be called. “I am … glad I am not the only one. Did they all end the same? With Sess … bringing his hammer down on … me? Or whomever dreamt it?” If she is alone in that portion, that does not bode well.

“So it must be regarding all this, with the scrolls. Naturally I shall bear it as one must bear all things, and I defer to your judgement on moving forward. I had thought, perhaps, it related to the forthcomming betrothal - marriage now, I daresay. Two Kilgours, or nearly so, have wed two Crawfords. Both have ended in disaster. I had thought, perhaps, Sess was warning against such a union.” She looks down at her hands a moment, then back to her brother.

“Do you think the match is good? For Mobrin, for Father and you? For His Grace? I do not know if all brides to be experience such apprehension. But with the war, and Sess’ message … I wish to know if you think this decision is right. If it pleases you.”

"The dream seems the same for those who have had it, Roslin, and I think it relates to the scrolls and the temple more than to the marriage. I have been indelicate, however, I do not feel I have done wrong. " He drinks again, "The match is a good one, he is a man worthy of you and the position but he is man not trained for it, you compliment each other well. If the gods feel otherwise, then I shall convince them of it. "

Roslin gives her brother a wry look. “You seem quite ready to convince the Gods of your case, dear brother. Perhaps, we may hope, these dreams are only their way of doing the same toward you. But if I had to put myself behind the pride of the Gods or your own pride … I do not know where I would fall.” She says it all gently, lovingly, a little teasingly. And just to sweeten the pot, she leans over and kisses his cheek.

“I understand why you did what you did, Tyrel. I support it.” She says the words openly and honestly. “And the shrine, I would think, would please the Gods. A new shrine dedicated soley to the new scrolls. They will exist for generations to come. Perhaps your own hand needs a little softening though. I don’t doubt that Blessed Luna has had some small part to do with your recent short temper where the clergy are concerned. Naturally she has not come to see me, but I wonder if I should keep her on at all, once all this is done. The things she says … she shows no respect, and if she does not respect the royal family I do not think I can trust her.”

"A free tongue has its place, Roslin, but when that tongue is not matched to respectful action it is difficult to excuse. My own pride I have set aside asi said to the people, I have insult and will make amends, but I do not think it is the pride of the gods that is wounded." He drinks and finishes his wine, "These next days cannot pass quickly enough."

“I agree. And … well perhaps this is too self-centered of me. But Blessed Luna knew that my betorthal would be soon. And then they shut down the temple, making marriages impossible in the capital. She has not spoken highly of our family in my presence … do you think it possible that she did this, knowing what was coming, and hoping that in doing so it would pressure you because of my own marriage?” She sits back in her seat, looking down in her cup of wine. “I think the truth of this marriage will be with me in the morning. Tonight it seems too much like a dream. Perhaps when I see him, it will become more for the waking world.”

"I do not believe the council would allow her that much pressure, though in truth I cannot fathom their motives. To close the temples at a time when people need guidance seems folly to me. Perhaps they seek to test my intentions and see if I would raise a new temple to challenge them, if that is the case of its a dangerous gambit. " He rubs his face showing the weariness there for a moment. "Do be sure and smile, in a properly reserved fashion, at your betrothed when you see him. You will have two lives to lead together and while the contract outlined the start of the first, your expression will be the start of the second. " He rises preparing to leave.

“I smile,” Roslin says, unable to keep from arguing. She rises with him, out of habit, to see him to the door. “I am a Princess, a Kilgour. Certainly how much I may or may not smile will not make too much of a differnece. He and I have a shared admiration for one another. Never once has he mentioned the necessity of smiles.” She walks with him to the door, and when he turns to her he will find her smiling at him. A tired, mischevious smile. “Go to bed,” she urges her brother. “I will be here if you wish someplace to hide come the morrow. You may hide here for the next three days if you wish.”

“That you are a princess and a Kilgour is part of your first life. Ciarrah was a princess and of Aberdeen and came with a fleet of ships, that mattered very little once we were alone.” He points a finger towards her, “Do not make the mistake of occupying yourself entirely with such matters and forgetting that you must also cook and clean for him, and make his bed and darn his socks.” He laughs hard pressing his hand into his middle as he doubles over, “Ah, such are the things a Sutherland wife must do, I’m afraid, did I mention slopping the pigs?” He straightens a few moments later looking a bit confused though still amused. “That was strong wine, wasn’t it?”

“I will not cease to be a Princess. Not entirely. It is how I was raised and how I shall continue to behave and to be. Others would do well not to forget that.” She looks at her brother and listens to his words. She flushes red - the angry, not the embarrassed. “It was. Go back to your wife, I’ve had enough of you for this evening.” Even if she doesn’t particularly enjoy his jokes as much as he does, she still leans in to give him a hug. He seems to like hugging, after all, and he likely could use it. “There. Now get out before I throw my wine in your face for saying such terrible things.” Darning socks indeed.

Tyrel allows Roslin to send him from the room, he nearly trips as he crosses the threshold but his poise is regained an instant later as his guards move to fall in alongside him and the stiffened catlike grace reappears as he moves off.

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