Alasair 15, 228: To Grow With Our Tasks

To Grow With Our Tasks
Summary: When Emerit pays Roslin a visit to inquire about her health after last night's commotion, they soon engage in another round of politics.
OOC Date: 02/09/2013 (OOC)
Related: At least one yet unposted event log.
Players:
Roslin Emerit 
Roslin's Room, Darfield Castle
Room description in the scene set.
15th day of Alasair, in the year 228

Last night, there was some commotion. The Princess Roslin and her young brother, Prince Mikhail, were escorted quickly inside of the castle as smoke and flames could be seen from the city center. Though rumors fly as to what has happened, the servants pass one phrase from lip to lip as though it was gospel: The Princess had blood on her skirt.

It may come as no surprise, then, that the Princess has not been seen beyond her chambers yet today.

When the Princess Emerit indicates that she is visiting, she will be instructed to wait outside just a moment. A moment turns to two, and then the guard nods, opening the door to allow the Princess to pass into the room.

Inside, she will find the Princess Roslin in a less-regal state than normal. Her wavy red hair has been left down, save for two decorative braids woven into the flames. Her dress blue today, silk over muslin so as to be lighter and more comfortable in the warm weather. The woman herself sits by the window, a book across her lap.

Emerit enters a little hesitantly, perhaps, her demeanour showing concern as her moss green eyes come to linger on the princess. The Moniwid wears a dress of dark blue satin, with silver snakes embroidered on the skirt, creating interesting highlights both in the light of day and the cozy dimmed down flicker of torches at night. "Your highness," she offers in greeting as she lowers herself into a curtsey. "I hope you are well. I heard disturbing rumors of a fire at the city last night." She does not mention the part with the blood, yet her slightly worried expression hints that she has heard about that part, as well. The maid and the chaperone are following her into the room, whereas the guards will remain outside. Straightening again, Emerit smiles as she notices the book in the Kilgour princess's lap. "I hope I do not disturb you. I wanted to see if you are alright. Hmm, that dress of hair becomes you well indeed!" The latter part added with a delighted chuckle, as the Mist of the Island approaches Roslin, her own fiery red locks bouncing freely about her.

At the entrance, Roslin rises. She appears entirely unhurt and unhindered, lowering herself into a respectful curtsy for her guest. Her own handmaid sits at a table, cleaning the Princess' hairbrush. Most of the room is unseen, however - save for a small group of cozy chairs in one corner, a table against the wall, and a few bookshelves, the rest of the room is hidden by a heavy curtain, drawn all the way across.

"You are always welcome, your highness. It is quite an honor to see you." She moves to sit again, in the selection of cozy chairs. "Yes, the fire last night was quite terrifying. I know at least one shop is gone, and in the panic several people were hurt. It is so unusual for this city to have such misfortune, I am afraid word of it is spreading faster than the fire itself did. My guards, however, did their work well - the Prince and I are entirely unharmed." The woman closes her book and sets it aside on a small table beside her chair. "Wine, please, my dear," Roslin commands to her servant, turning her eyes back to Emerit. "Do you like it this way?" The young girl asks, touching her own hair. "Both times I have seen you and you wear it down - is that the fashion, in your home?"

"What great misfortune indeed!", Emerit gasps as she hears the desaster being described by the princess. "But… what a blessing that your brother - the younger one, wasn't it? - and you were left unscathed." Her moss green gaze flits downward when Roslin demands the wine from her servant, only to be lifted again at the Kilgour's inquiry. She cannot help but chuckle again, one slender hand moving through her impressive red locks. "Oh no, your highness. It is not the fashion at my home, rather mine own. I hate my hair when it is tamed into a braid. I prefer it to be free and wild - according to my brother the Grand Duke, all too fitting for my personality. Although… there are times when I do subject to the demand and wear it in braids. But these occasions are rare."

"I imagine it must be quite a trial. My hair is a wild red thing, but compared to yours it is dull and lifeless!" Roslin gestures for the woman to have a seat, just as the handmaiden brings over wine for the pair to share. "My younger brother, Mikhail. Yes, he is but ten-and-three, but I have to admit I was most impressed with his calmness and presence of mind during such a tense situation. He handled himself well - my brother Tyrel will be very proud when he hears." Though Roslin remains straight-backed, she seems somewhat casual in her discussion with the other princess. "Does your half-brother have hair like yours, your highness?"

"Oh no, your highness. I am the fiery haired one in our family. The rest of the Moniwids," she pauses, smiling at Roslin with a wink, "have a less obtrusive colour of hair. My brother's, the Grand Duke's, is rather brownish. And… yes he is very good-looking, as this is what you are about to ask me next." The wine is accepted most gratefully, and a sip is taken right away. "I remember what we spoke of last. The possibility of betrothals between your House and mine. I haven't given up on the idea of matching you and the Ruler of Rustles Island yet. Even if your enthusiasm seemed to be a little dimmed, to say the least." The Princess lowers herself into a seat with a mischievous smile, before she adds on another note: "Your brother Mikhail seems to be very brave for his age. I'd like to meet him some day. As well as I'd love to get more acquainted with the rest of your family."

Roslin laughs a little, a touch of a blush coming to her cheeks. "You do me too much of a kindness, your highness. I am but a young child, I know nothing of your home nor your brother. Perhaps he is handsome, yes. But he is my father's enemy now, and I am my father's daughter." The young girl sips her wine thoughtfully. "I think that does not make for happy unions. Though I must ask - you did speak of other ways that we might find common ground between your brother and my father, my hand and the hand of Mikhail aside." She smirks at something the woman has said, giving her head a little shake. Her curls bounce about her face daintily. "Some of my family, perhaps. Some do us very, very proud."

Emerit chuckles when she hears Roslin's answer regarding possible betrothals at first, but then her demeanour sobers a little. "True. Your father's enemy it would seem. Yet. Who knows what the future will bring?" Another sip is taken from the cup, while the fiery haired bastard princess shifts her wight a little in her seat. "You are referring to trade, I suppose, but… is that possible in the current situation?", she muses looking slightly thoughtful as she gnaws on her lower lip. "What could you offer us, instead of that Royal blood that my brother hopes to acquire for the next generations of Moniwids?"

"I think it would be quite possible," Roslin says, openly. "Particularly if Moniwid ships are not turned against ours, but with ours. Routes would easily be secured, and we would prosper in the face of the war-mongering committed by the Laniveer." The Princess sips her wine again, before moving to set it aside - the conversation has become too interesting for her to be bothered with the cup. "Much of that depends. As I have said, I know little of your homeland. But what I do know indicates that you do not have much in the way of mining. Gems for the women, iron for the weapons - these are things Mobrin has and is eager to trade." She nods a little at that. "And I have no doubt that this will help future generations more than any of us can say now. With a strong military and trade alliance comes good-will, friendship - and the option for marriage. I do not think you will too much fault my father for arranging business and logistical alliances with you and your brother before he offers his own blood. Arranging marriages is a delicate thing, made much harder without previous ties."

Emerit's free hand brushes a lock of hers out of her view, while the other holds idly the cup, her gaze growing a bit dreamy when she begins to speak about her home. "Rustles Island is much like a paradise… we have forests with wild animals as well as many rare plants I do not believe you have here. We have established quite a science regarding the healing arts, and those of that profession are held in the highest regard. Our people do a lot of fishing, of course, and not only do we catch various kinds of small and bigger fish, there are other treasures in the sea as well, like seashells and mussels, and… some even dive into the depths of the sea for pearls." She takes another sip of the wine, before she adds: "You may be right about the trade being a good first step towards a closer bond of our lands, yet I wonder… Your brother the Crown Prince didn't tarry long and married that Aberdeen princess quite hurriedly. And those other marriages… don't seem to be the result of reason as well. No, reason is the wrong word: patient negotiations. It seems trade is only put forward when it comes to negotiating an alliance with us. Meaning either that your House isn't interested in an alliance, or we just don't have the right means to persuade you." She smirks at the brilliance of her remark and leans back in her seat, waiting for whatever Roslin may have as a reply.

Roslin shakes her head, easily enough. "It sounds quite lovely. Perhaps, in another time, I may visit on behalf of my family. For now, however …." Roslin lets a little sigh escape her lips. "As Ambassador, it is important that you know the nature of my father's relationship with King Isaac Aberdeen. They are old friends. Our country and theirs have ties in trade and with their military. So I would argue that in fact we do have very strong ties with Aberdeen, and did not need to develop a foundation from nothing in order to arrange the match." Roslin's hands stretch over the arms of the chairs, a little uncomfortably. "As for my other siblings, I confess that neither of these matches were ones that my parents wished. But they were made with families with which my family has had ties for many years in trade, in war, in peace and in friendship. The difference between Moniwid matches and the other marriages arranged in my family is that we do not know each other, your family and mine. Our ships do not even make regular trips to the ports of the other. We have no foundation for so important of a tie as a marriage. And I fear with your brother's change of loyalties now," Roslin shakes her head, almost apologetically. "It will be harder. For my father and mother will not give up a child to a man they do not know, and who has alligned himself with our enemy. If peace will be between us, Princess, it must be done in other ways."

She listens very attentively to Roslin's reply, the cup now finally being lowered onto the table as well, as the Moniwid Princess leans slightly forward, crossing her arms before her. "I see," she replies, her moss green eyes locking onto Roslin's gaze. "And I understand and agree, that our lands have had little to do with each other in the past. But I suspect that the King thinks us to be too insignificant, maybe. At least,… well my brother had to wait and wait until he was granted an audience, and even then…" Her voice trails off before she gathers her thoughts and picks the sentence up again. "Even then he was not even given a prospect to work towards. And even if you should be wroth at me for bringing it up again… I mean… A second son of a Duke? A mere cousin to another Duke being preferred to a prince or princess, or even a Grand Duke? At least, regarding the title, your sister has degraded in status, a baroness where she could have remained a princess or even become the Grand Duchess of a beautiful realm, as has the future wife of your other brother, who will not even be acknowledged as princess?" She shrugs and shakes her head, feiry red locks bouncing about her, before she leans back in her seat again, rubbing the palms of her hands against each other. "Your highness. What do you think, if I may ask, where our possibilities lie for the future? There won't be any betrothal without trade, and there won't be any trade as long as these rumors about my brother siding with Laniveer continue. How to get out of this dilemma, I wonder?"

Roslin shakes her head, looking a little distressed at some thought or other. "My father has been ill, your highness. If you have been told that I beg that you do not take it as a slight, as some way to avoid a meeting and a discussion. His illness was strong and true, though he has f inally managed to recover now, I hope." She sighs then, reaching for her wine and taking a sip. "No, I am not wroth at you for bringing it up again. Were I in your position, I would continue to do so. What has happened with my sister and my brother was not meant as a slight against your house or your brother's offer. We had, as I understand, no intention whatsoever to arrange any matches for them beyond the discussions that had happened with your family. However, their own decisions left my family in a precarious situation, where matches had to be made for the sake of propriety. The situation we are in now was by no means preferred. Not at all - it has been a heartbreaking experience. Believe me when I say that - it has broken my heart many times over." She lets out a little sigh, setting the cup aside. "That being said, even were my brother and sister not married, at this stage no betrothals would go forward with your brother. He has broken off talks of alliance, so that we doubt his loyalties. He has left his sister to face the consequences of it all." The woman sighs again. "Your highness, the only way I see to move forward now is to speak with your brother. If it is true that he has not broken off discussions, that he has not taken his ships up against us, then we may find that path. Through trade, through a military alliance - in these ways we will build the foundations needed to lead to discussions of matrimony later. I know my parents, your highness. It is not that anyone doubts your family or their worthiness in these matters. It is that my mother and father love their children, and would not see them married off to strangers, without a further foundation for alliance."

The Mist of the Island lets her gaze wander about the room, her moss green eyes turned inward rather than studying the splendour of Roslin's room, while she listens to her speech, nodding slowly as if the Kilgour has managed to persuade her, or maybe she has already expected the answer and cannot help but believe her. "Speak with my brother.", Emerit sighs then, the corners of her mouth twitching in an attempted smile. "It is what I will have to do I fear. But I won't be permitted to see him, but write him instead. Oh, by the Gods, yours and mine, what a difficult task, finding the right words to make him understand and not suspect that this is my own opinion and not the words of those whose hospitality I enjoy at the moment…" She looks a bit lost for a moment, as if the weight of the world where resting upon her slender shoulders.

Roslin nods, not unsympathetically. "I cannot say that I envy the burden on you just now, your highness." Roslin says. "But you are his sister - surely your words will be known to him. He will know your writing as well as he would his own, and know that you speak true." Roslin nods to the handmaiden, who moves to bus the empty wine cups away from the pair. "I would not keep you from your business, your highness, but I have one last question. It is one I should not likely ask, but given the gravity of the situation, of your situation particularly, I must ask it: Do you have any sense yet as to why your brother would make a move such as this, if indeed he has, without first recalling you?"

One slender hand moves to the snake pendant at her necklace, and Emerit acknowledges Roslin's sympathetic words with a light incline of her head. "I will try to write him then. Alas, that last letter I received made me doubt I know my own brother, so little essence was in there. And sense." She hesitates before she continues: "As for your question… I know my brother, he is very emotional, and a proud man. I fear he was put off by the hesitant way of your parents in engaging in those negotiations. I can only suspect, he lost his patience and is considering other alliances, alas, I can't understand why he would do so, leaving me here. So… yes, in a way I understand him, while in other aspects I do not."

The Moniwid offers an apologetic smile and rises from her seat, before she curtseys to the princess. "I will not tarry and go to start writing that letter right away, your highness. I am glad you are well, and thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. I wish the circumstances were different, and we could jest and giggle together like princesses of our age are supposed to. Alas, politics and impending wars demand us to grow with our tasks, ahead of our time. Your highness. I will let you know as soon as I will receive word from my brother." And then the Mist of the Island disappears, but unlike the mist, rather physically through the door that leads outside, followed by her maid and the chaperone and joined by the two guards that have waited outside.

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