Thedor 12, 229: Peace

Summary: Roslin and Logen bury the hatchet, for the sake of moving forward. Well, as much as they can, anyway.
OOC Date: 16 January 2013
Related: Anything involving Roslin and Logen.
Roslin Logen 
Practice Yard
The men are sweating, beating each other with wooden swords. Or dulled metal ones, in some cases. It is the preperation for war.
Thedor 12, 229

A cold day, in which the clouds block Cri from the sky and set in the flurries that come with accompanied wind. It is mid morning, closer to noon and the exercise yard in Darfield’s castle is alive with activity. Squires and knights hack at one another with blunted instruments as they continue to go through the daily chores of training and honing in their expertise. Men in training uniforms, are watched by those in Kilgour colours, as comments, jibes and encouragements are shouted.

Amongst those training today, is one dressed down in the grey training armor, with a flash of deep red here. The Prince, Logen Kilgour works, defending himself from two squires, with each movement he is quick to correct a move, before parrying, trying to give them insight into finding the chinks in a man’s defense without laying his own open. They need to learn, not be spoon fed.

The war is coming. It’s harder and harder to miss every day. Perhaps during Inouv, when everyone went into hiding from the snow, it could be forgotten for a little while. But now there is no hiding it, and Roslin Kilgour, for one, desires to face it. So she has come out here, to view the men. Such visits often make them fight a bit harder for a few moments, swell a bit with pride - a Princess, a pretty young royal, just the thing to get the patriotic blood flowing before they take their next swing.

She is dressed in purple brocade, trimmed in heavy fur. It covers her from neck to foot, hiding whatever she might be wearing underneath. Gloves cover her hands, and her hair has been done up in an elegant crown of braids, with a hat settled there to match the cloak and trimmed in matching fur. She pauses behind her brother, the two guards and maids turning and stopping with her, allowing the woman to watch with her hands clasped lightly before her. She does not speak - the gazes and whispers will alert him to her presence.

Inouv, a time of darkness and death. When else would be appropriate to ready for it? Still there is a brief pause after the two youths are driven back. Likely now the looks and the whispers are
apparent, as one of the Squires is turning to look over his shoulder-which earns a whack of a sword blade to the side of his head. “On me..” though, when Logen sees whom the youth is looking to, there is a brief frown before he is looking to his partners. “Or, actually. On one another..” taking his break, he moves closer to the edge of the sparring circle. Shrugging off his shield and passing it to a man watching on the sidelines, his hands already moving to fumble with the clasps of the bulky training armor.

“Sister.” called out, before that too is thrust off, and now the Prince is coming out and towards her, which has some of the guardsmen and knights scuttling out of the way. As if they thought a storm might appear with these two coming together.

“Walk with me,” Roslin says. It’s not a command, but it’s said in such a way - Mother’s way really - that doesn’t quite leave much room to argue. And indeed, before he has time to try to, Roslin is turning and continuing on her walk. That slow, painfully measured walk that she does when she is conversing with others. It forces the tall ones with long legs to shuffle at her speed, and makes her life much more comfortable. Besides, a leisurely pace is often good for conversation.

“You’re looking much better then when I saw you last.” Yes. Small talk. Small talk is actually happening.

There’s a brief smirk before he is looking back towards those watching. A nod is given, as he moves to come alongside his sister. Arm offered to the ginger Kilgour as he makes sure to keep pace, besides it’s good to move after pushing your body like that.

“I feel better.” he replies, evenly enough. “I promised mother I would not drink. So I have not been. Rather my focus has been on my blade and not my other shortcomings.” Which means no strange women either. “I am trying to clean myself up.” Logen admits before he is looking over to her. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Roslin slips her arm in with her brother’s in a sight that is probably both amazing and terrifying to those around them. The guards and maids naturally drop back - in sight, in shouting distance, but giving the pair time to talk and space to do it, too.

“Perhaps they are in order. Though I must wonder your thoughts on the whole matter.” She is, after all, set to marry his former brother-in-law. Or current brother-in-law. Such things can be so terribly confusing. “The Crawfords are in shambles,” she says, lowly. “Only His Grace remains of his family. In the midst of a war we do not have time for internal squabblings within the duchy if there is no line of succession, or if there is no one left behind while he marches to war to manage the mines and rebuilding the city keep. Father has determined that I am appropriate for such a task.” That once may have been Logen’s, if he had taken an offer only a few months before.

“But I daresay that is of little interest to you now. I am pleased that you are doing so much better.” It almost hurts, physically hurts to say. “Mother has determined that you are to be forgiven for past pains. I am here to make sure that you know that is the case. All between us is behind, and I shall speak no more of it nor ask any more of it as well.”

She’s quiet for a few more steps. “So, it is settled then.”

“The Crawfords.” Logen begins, as he looks back- just to keep an idea of where his sister’s people would be, before continuing on. “Have given much to this cause and to our country. I am not surprised that they are in the state they are now. But, I agree-we must do what we can to keep our ducks in row, and not have some squabble or worse creep up when we are clearly in the eve of war.” A faint frown before he glances back towards Roslin. “I would say you are on those fronts. You could command a house or rule a country if you put your mind to it, I would dare believe.” Logen quips before he slows a bit, if only to indicate a path to take from the yards.

“Oh?” And there he is stopping briefly, thus likely keeping Roslin from going further after this last revelation. “You’d be wrong.” on the idea that it is of no interest to him, but he doesn’t press further. “It is settled then?” he asks carefully. “As in we are at peace now sister, or is there more?”

Roslin stops with him. “I should rule a country,” she says, matter-of-factly. “But that is not what is required of me now. So that is not what I will do. In truth it was Tyrel that settled the whole matter. He expressed pleasure that I might be of some use to him in the coming years, even in a small part, rather than be sent away. But none of this would be necessary if not for … many things. And you may be surprised to hear that in this I do not refer to you. And …. well, I have reason to believe that my marriage may come at a dear cost.” She looks truthfully worried, as though something deep and dark is on her mind, but she doesn’t voice it. “But nevermind that, for now.”

Instead, she turns her eyes back up to him. “Mother says it is so. And I have agreed. I thought about begging a promise from you, but I do not think you would ever give it. I have asked in the past and you have been angry for it. So for the sake of peace, yes. It is done.” It burns! It burns!!

“You could still beg it of me, and I would give it.” Logen says, before he is shifting in his stance. A nod and he is moving on with her, likely leading to one of the paths that would take them in the direction of the courtyard, and likely to the gardens beyond. “I understand..” a glance back to his sister. Apparently he is not pushing for the great cost. There is no need there, not when one can see how the winds are blowing in Morbin. With war coming, all men will be for the front. Widows will be waiting.

“I think mother is trying to sell me off to the Moriwinds, but if it secures us victory or aid. I will take it.”

Roslin moves off with him, nodding gently. “Very well, I will beg it of you: Do not fall backwards.” That’s what she desires. She has her head high, striking a regal pose. As they move, she looks away from him; nodding to passers-by mostly. “That is what I desire. That you will not be the idiot you have been previously. Mother is right - I hold on to my anger as though it were a far dearer thing than anything else. But I am letting it go. In doing so I am once more putting you, in some level, in my trust. If you hurt us again, Logen, I will not be able to grant such peace again, even as Mother requests it.” She sighs, this time being the one to pause and turn to face him. “I know I seem haughty and unforgiving to you, Logen. And for that I am sorry. It is how I am - I do not know any other way to be. But Gods be Good - do not fall into this madness again. That is all I ask.” She pats his arm and turns to continue their walk.

“The woman Mother has in mind for you is very fair on the eyes. Generally of a sweet disposition, from what little I have seen. Of an artistic mind. The sort I daresay one could write a poem about, if one went in for such things.” Roslin, it is known, does not. She glances at her brother. “It is a match that may well have happened once before, some months ago.” There is no malice or accusation in her voice. “And victory, aid, or otherwise - you could do far worse, Logen.” He has done far worse … but that part goes unsaid.

There is a brief nod, given to the request. “I don’t plan on back sliding.” said plainly before he is looking back to Roslin. A nod there, and he is continuing on. Apparently he is not going to say further than he simply will not slide backwards. “Is she?” asked back as brows raise, but his head does not turn as they continue along their path. “I cannot say that I know her well, or could tell you honestly that I know her in passing. I do only know of her kingdom.” And there he glances back.

“I likely have done fare worse.” He’ll say it. He has no qualms owning to his own past. “Are you worried for him?” Ronan.

“That will change,” Roslin predicts. “And hopefully for the best. I would have thought you might be better suited with a woman of stronger disposition, but then again I know so little of marriage or affection.” And she is about to embark into both. “As for their country, I will tell you now I trust them not. Too easily they could shift back to allying with the Laniveer. This marriage, one hopes, will solidify their alliances at least for the course of the war.”

She glances up at him as she asks about him. Her intended. His brother-in-law. “I am,” she says, easily enough. “Although I will not say that I will have a marriage as you or Caillin have had, I will confess to a great admiration for the man. He has many challenges he must face in war and at home. And he has a ferocious temper about him. But … he is a Knight of the Rioga, a man tested in battle. He knows wars, and he will be as safe as he may be with such knowledge. The rest I may only hope to lend myself to and be of such assistance as I can, that he may focus on his immediate duties on the front. He is strong, and honorable, and honest. I too could do very much worse.” She looks up at her brother. “Will you be attending my wedding?”

“Please do not take this as rude, sister-but there is much to married life that goes beyond ruling and running a house.” Logen adds with a faint smirk. “I am sure your Lord will teach you as such.” added before he is pausing. A glance as he listens-yes actually listens to what Roslin is saying. “He’s good at what he does. A bold spirit, which I think you will either match or tame in him. It really is, honestly, a good match sister.”

And there he slides out his arm from hers, as now the Prince regards his sister. Content that they have found a place to talk away from many of the wagging tongues of court. “Will I attend your wedding?” a pause. “I should hope so, unless you would rather me not.”

“Perhaps there is,” Roslin says gently. “I am not sure, either way. I am only able to speak about what I know, and in truth I feel it is the far more important aspects of the thing that I refer to.” She pauses with him, letting her hands fall gently before her. “No - you had best come. But I do not know where, or when it shall be. I do not know who shall attend. Father may not - for all I know, he does not yet know I am betrothed. But that is for another time.” She nods to him. “I will leave you to resume your duties. And perhaps we may speak again soon.” Without killing each other.

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