Royal Intrigue: Closed Thread

[The_gladiator]

A time to think, a time to ponder what lay before and behind. The time alone was meant for one to consider one’s journey to this point and the life they wished to live. Though Vallin could honestly say that he had spent most of the night thinking how much his knees hurt from the unyielding flagstones of the chapel floor. Even so, he endured, for he must. He got by reminding himself that he had been through far worse, and this was truly mild compared to some of the more creative episodes in his past.

He schooled his thoughts. That type of thought did not belong in this moment. He wanted to think of hope. Lord Thurston always told him he could change his stars, what ever the hell that meant. He hoped it meant he could stop being everyone’s punching bag, but suspected the presence of a new title in front of his name wouldn’t actually change much.

Dawn slowly spread over the sky and soon the sun rose in the east, and Vallin made his way out into the courtyard to greet the small gathering who had come to witness this ceremony. To be knighted was a great honor, and to be so honored during the festivities of the mid summer’s eve celebration should have filled him with nothing but Joy. The problem was the pitiful turnout. When his cousin had been knighted 3 or was it 4 years ago there had been crowds, not to speak of how many had been there when his brother King Jefferson had been knighted. No one cared about the king’s younger brother, the social pariah.

Even as he stepped out, he could hear some of the comments, recanting his story, how no one wanted him to squire for them, until the duty finally fell to Lord Thurston, head of the king’s guard. Vallin was sure though that the merciless taskmaster had only taken him on because ordered or to save the crown from the shame of having a noble who was perpetually seen as a child. Without some sort of a right of passage as the trials of knighthood, nobles, especially royals were seen as children. Adulthood was not just granted with age, but it must be earned. These traditions were even reflected in their commoners, with rights of passage extremely common, a special hunt with a father and son, a task to be a master craftsman, sewing one’s first dress and having it judged by the elders if you were female, and so on.

Vallin did not meet the gaze of anyone in the crowd but he did note who was present, and who was conspicuous by their absence. Surprisingly his mother was there, his younger siblings in toe. Alexander the oldest, looking sullen as usual. His sisters looked disinterested. His mother looked, haughty as always, like everything was beneath her. She wore the black dress which their culture dictated was the only color she could wear in public. It was a color she’d worn in public since Vallin’s father died it had to be almost ten years ago now.

There were others there, a few visiting dignitaries probably seeking to gain favor with the royal family. A few that clearly wanted to see him be knighted, though, for all the wrong reasons, as he heard clearly some of their homosexual slurs aimed his way. Some things never changed. The king and queen were conspicuous in their absence, though it was understandable. His brother lay bedridden following yesterday’s bloody Melee. His wife, the queen, Vallin was sure she was tending to his brother, or had something far more important to attend to than his knighting.

His attention was on lord Thurston who stood in the center of the semicircle of gathered people. As Vallin approached the old knight he kept his head bowed low. With his hair tied back so he could not hide from the gods, the action did not let his hair cover his face as such an action normally would. This meant his facial scars were prominently on display as well. He had of course heard the comments about those too. The rumors of his sexuality were thanks to his mother, but the scars were a very poignant reminder of how much his brother, the king, hated him.

Without a word Vallin knelt before Thurston. Drawing his sword, he laid it on each of Vallin’s shoulders. He could remember all the speeches and praise heaped on the rest of his family. All Thurston managed was to grunt out “Rise, to forever be known as Sir Valentine Penrose, heir to your brother king Jefferson Penrose’s throne.”

There it was, the title was his, and no one could take it away. He was truly the heir, no regent was needed, and no one could stand in his way. However, he did not wish to be king, nor did he think such a thing likely. His brother, though wounded was too stubborn to die.

It did not take the gathering long to break up and for Valentine, or Vallin as he preferred to be left alone to his own devices. He had time to himself before he would be expected at the ball that evening. It was something he normally wouldn’t attend, but with his brother unable to attend, that duty would fall to him. He wasn’t sure who would insist, the queen or his mother. As the queen-mother his sole remaining parent often got her way. It was sometimes easier to just not even bother to argue.

Having settled on finding lunch Vallin was walking from the chapel back to the palace when something stopped him in his tracks. His brother’s wife was coming toward him at a determined clip, a phalanx of guards fanning out behind her. What had happened? Surely, she was not coming to apologize for missing his knighting. Such a formation suggested he had done something new to offend the crown, or there had been an emergency. “Going to war my queen?” he called out. One day his flippant tongue was going to get him in even more serious shit than it already had.

As she approached, Vallin remembered his hair was still tied back and freed the dark locks and with a practiced flick of his head let it fall around his face, once again obscuring the scars, putting back on his mask, letting go the bounce in his step and dropping his blue eyes. It was like he remembered himself and the difference in their stations.

(Narrator's note: This story is closed to the two authors, please do not post without permission. Reading is encouraged and feedback is welcome via pm.
We hope you Enjoy)

 

[magellans_demon]

Ignoring Vallin's flippant comment, Elisa stopped short in front of him, watching him hide his face as usual and wondering cynically why he bothered. The whole family was bruised, burnt, scarred and broken, just because he bore the obvious marks of that instead of bearing it only internally seemed to make little difference in reality. If they were all forced to show their scars perhaps it might be harder to inflict further ones. It would have certainly made it infinitely harder for Jefferson to 'enjoy' his marriage to the extent he did.

She realised now she and Vallin were basically two opposing halves of the same coin, Vallin's scars open to the light whether he liked it or not, while Elisa's were deliberately shaded in the dark. To the world's view she was close enough to perfect to ease her way through life, her skin like smooth porcelain, her dark eyes large and alluring, her face locking her true self behind a haughty veil. She felt like she was almost betraying herself by looking as though she should be any man's prize, while no-one could see the evidence of her complete failure to make anything even approaching happiness from her life or marriage. The bruises on the inside of her thighs that matched Jefferson's fingertips, the cuts from a horse whip marking her below her buttocks, the way she froze in place if she heard anything crash to the floor abruptly all marked her, but in their secrecy. Everyone was happy to while away their time talking about Vallin, having no hesitation in jeering at him either behind his back or in front of him, but Elisa doubted there was anyone in the kingdom who wasted any moments wondering what was behind the haughty queen's eyes.

"Apologies to disturb you your highness" Elisa stated flatly, feeling a whirl of emotions she was determined to keep tightly covered by following the behaviour she knew was expected of her.

"I regret I have come to inform you of the death of King Jefferson. Your brother's fever worsened through the night and finally took him late this morning, my apologies, your majesty."

Elisa dropped into a very low curtsey, her knee resting on the ground as she bent before Vallin, her dress pooling around her. Her long brown hair was twisted up and fastened behind her head but several tendrils escaped to frame her face, the night having been long and she hadn't bothered to fix her hair with everything else she'd had to focus on. Her eyes were duller than usual, dark hollows from tiredness, her skin pinched with the effort of staying awake and busy all night.

She could sense the guards behind her moving far more slowly, remaining stood where they were, perhaps trying to get away with giving the bare minimum effort, merely bowing their heads in their lack of respect. Elisa frowned and turned her head to the side.

"To your knees!" she hissed behind her, immediately irritated by the lack of respect.

Not that Elisa was shocked in the least, she was well aware they held absolutely no respect for Vallin, and his sudden progression to king had probably made very little difference to this, but there was a hierarchy and a procedure, regardless of how you personally felt, and she was annoyed that they would feel able to ignore this at a time like now. If anyone should feel they were entitled to ignore the rules because of their personal preferences it was her, so if she could adhere to the process then so could they. She'd spent literally each day of her marriage being constrained to the rules, having to allow her husband to do whatever he chose, even more so than a husband would be normally be entitled to do, due to his status and power. It would have been so much easier for her to take offence, object to the treatment and to have ignored the fact he had been king but that was the road to either death or anarchy so she'd held her tongue with gritted teeth and endured as best she could.

The guards finally sank and bent the knee to their new king, even managing a reasonably spirited "Long live the king!" whether they meant it or not. Elisa returned her gaze to the floor, grimly satisfied.

She hoped Vallin hadn't been excluded by the rest of them to the point of forgetting the basic protocol of what was now his new role, he'd had long enough watching his brother but Elisa and Vallin weren't particularly close, she had no real idea if he'd have even enough clue what to do to pass as the figurehead for the role, let alone as the power behind it. She was more than willing to offer her help with the second part but if he couldn't manage the first his mother would have no hesitation in picking at the weakness like a starved vulture.

If Vallin didn't remember that, as king now, he needed to offer his hand to Elisa for her to kiss and show her loyalty in order for her to stand again now, she'd need to stay where she knelt indefinitely. She felt a bitter laugh inside herself at the thought of it, that if he left her there on the floor for the rest of time it wouldn't even rate highly enough to be placed on any list of the worst things his family had done to her. She might even enjoy that, the guards behind her would need to follow her lead and their armour could rust in place where they knelt as well, a perfect monument to the crumbling mess they'd willingly given their loyalty to for all these years.

Her loyalty was far more free to shift with the changing breeze, not through choice but purely because she had very little choice at all. What choice she did retain had been fully exercised last night and left her in more danger than before anyway. If anyone gained any suspicion of her actions through the previous night, all her efforts in keeping herself from throwing herself from an edge of the palace roof would be in vain, the queen mother would be happier than anyone to see her head separated from her body as quickly as it could be arranged. She knew her only hope lay in Vallin. Reduced as she was now to staring at her brother-in-laws boots as she knelt, her life had been worse already and stood to descend further if she wasn't careful.

 

[The_gladiator]

Vallin couldn’t help but to lift his eyebrow as she addressed him so formally. They did not interact much, but most could barely even use his name or titles without sneering, and here she was addressing him as your highness. He opened his mouth to offer some sort of a retort telling her there was no way she had him confused with his perfectly unscarred brother, but that’s when her next sentence hit him. Dead—she had said Jefferson was dead. It took great effort to not let an unguarded expression slide across his face. Neither shock nor relief would be welcome, instead he settled for neutral, his eyes looking down at her, a swirl of emotions in their blue depths.

He truly had to fight not to smirk when she forced the guards to all bow to him. Unwarranted as it was, undeserved before his coronation—he couldn’t say that he didn’t get a small thrill from it. He could tell that she thought she was doing right by the gesture, and lord knew some of those guards deserved to have a hit or twelve to their pride.

Vallin reached for her, not for her to kiss his hand but a gentle touch under her chin to meet his gaze. From this angle, the hair did little to hide his face. No beard could hide what Jefferson had done to him, so Vallin didn’t even try. He was cleanshaven, though his hair was long enough that when he looked down it covered much of his face, clearly meant to hide the scars. There were scars on either cheek, cutting almost jagged diagonal lines from the corners of his eyes down over both cheekbones. There were a couple of lighter scars like some got the dusting of freckles over the rest of his face, evidence that the broken glass had shattered when his face had struck it. The lines were nearly parallel almost as if deliberately carved that way. Vallin had once requested that the lines be filled in by a tattoo artist to form lightning bolts, but Jefferson had never allowed it, he would never let the signs of his younger brother’s punishment be turned into a strength or fashion statement.

His blue eyes met hers and he shook his head slowly. “Rise my queen. Though a lovely gesture such things are not appropriate until after I am crowned.” He did not want to sound ungrateful but he didn’t dare have it said that he was greedy and power hungry, demanding fealty before his brother was even laid to rest and his own coronation.

Pulling his hand back from her chin he offered it to her to help her to her feet. “I weep with you for your loss my queen,” he said squeezing her hand even as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. The formal words of their faith sounding hollow. Did their culture need so many damn platitudes and traditions. “Has my mother been told yet?” There were other questions, but this was the first, did the queen-mother know of her beloved son’s death yet. He suspected not, Afterall he heard no caterwauling, yet. There were words to say, he needed to assure her of the peaceful transfer of power, likely guarantee her safety, to put her under his protection if she was formally supporting his claim to the throne, especially after this morning’s ceremony. Yet he didn’t say those things, he focused on one thing at a time, did his mother know. How long did he have before his mother’s unstable force met what ever willpower he might possess.

 

[magellans_demon]

Elisa found it easy to look up at Vallin without disgust as he lifted her face towards him but even if she'd found it difficult she'd have needed to keep her expression blank, avoid revealing what she felt, whether good or bad. There was so much at stake and she needed to fend for herself now. As he helped her to her feet she struggled briefly to keep her composure before she regained control of herself, his words and the squeeze of his hand offering more comfort than Jefferson usually graced her with.

"Thank you your... no, I sent no-one to your mother and instructed the maids to wait quietly in the room, I thought it most fitting to speak to you first. I thought you might wish to tell the queen-mother yourself, I will accompany you if it may help."

Elisa dropped Vallin's hand to link her arm into his so she could walk beside him, already dreading the walk to his mother but it would have to be done and at least it would give her a little time to speak to him.

She paused to choose her next words carefully, avoid rushing to show her own personal desires while still making sure she remembered her own survival. She'd had barely any chance in what had been their normal lives to get any measure of Vallin, besides the slurs and gossip which amounted to nothing useful, and had no idea what his vision for the future might be, or if it had any chance of being his vision at all, or whether it would be his mothers instead.

She knew he'd had virtually no support from his family and without that education, accustoming him to the regal life, she had no idea if he would be fit to rule without help, regardless of his character. She couldn't afford mere hours of waiting to find out what would happen next, let alone weeks and months. Especially once the queen-mother was told the news, that would be even more foolish than waiting for an army to arrive before considering how to approach the battle.

"I am aware I may seem a little premature and I can assure you I do not mean to show any disrespect to my late king, but I hope you are aware of how unsettled these times truly are. If you were less generous you could see my gesture as hollow rather than lovely, by the time you are crowned I will likely have no fealty of my own to offer so it seems imprudent to wait. You will likely have attended my wedding before I attend your coronation, I have no doubt your mother will be immediately able to advise on the best elderly Lord I should be quickly married off to.

Of more importance however is that ordinarily there should indeed be a period of adjustment but, as much as it naturally grieves me, King Jefferson no long rules, and someone must. The very moment that his nobles, his allies and his enemies hear the news they will not hesitate or wait for your coronation to hasten the plans they made with him, or move to seize whatever power they can.

I do not pretend to be a fortune teller but I feel clear that the current future will see villages razed to the ground, deals made and alliances formed before you ever touch the crown. The king trained everyone he met, very successfully, to understand that respect was not given or earned but demanded with force, I fear now they will expect something a little similar from his successor. Unless you are to declare yourself king immediately, stake your claim, they will sense an opportunity to usurp you.

I am sure you can seek your own counsel without my offering any though, I merely speak as a friend if that pleases you."

Elisa silenced herself, waiting with concern to see if she'd said too much, overstepped her place.

 

[The_gladiator]

She had a lot to say and quickly. She was quite the political chatterbox in fact. She probably thought that he was as unaware of the intrigue in the land as everyone else thought him. She was eager, too eager, and that put him on guard.

He gave no sign of it though as he effortlessly went with her actions and let her take his arm like any lady would on the lord of any nobleman. Though the posture was more common if he were wearing a proper doublet the simple tunic, he wore for his vigil left his arms bare to her touch. He had no love for pomp and circumstance, but they were so ingrained in him there were rules for the rules it seemed.

“I will start by informing my mother of the king’s death and in that assert my standing as heir.” His words sounded calm and even, not the timid boy that everyone saw him. “There will be the standard 3 days of mourning and on the third before sunset he will be laid to rest. Only then the next day can I be crowned.” He knew the process. He had lived it after his father’s death. “Do you have evidence that someone other than my mother will try to usurp the thrown in that short amount of time?” The question was a bit probing. It showed that he wasn’t above using her for information. If she wanted to chatter, did she have something he could use to his advantage. The easy way he said what he did about his mother gave no illusions he knew what the woman was. Then again, she had threatened to disinherit him and serve as queen regent for Alexander enough times that he could recite the litany in his head.

Valin did not address her comments about her own marriage. It was not worth fussing over. Her marital status would be up to the king, so up to him, not his mother. He hadn’t really thought about what he would do with his brother’s widow. He knew he did not want to keep her too as a prisoner like Jefferson had their mother. That only lead to suffering, like his own. Her future was another day. For now, he needed her to be the queen, she still held power especially holding the loyalty of the people. Many loved the foreign queen. She represented hope, beauty, joy and art to their dower culture. Though it was easy for Vallin to think of his brother as an idiot, in actuality though a colossal self-centered prick, he was not stupid. He had had enough self-awareness of his darkness to go out and find one of the most exotic queens he could. She didn’t look that different. She wasn’t like the dark-skinned tropical islanders or something, but culturally her people were much different. Their lives were far more relaxed, whimsical in nature. Vallin had spent enough summers in her land’s forests and beaches, he knew. They had balanced each other out, and despite his brother’s iron fisted will, they had mostly had peace during his rule. She had been Jefferson’s red herring. Look at me, I can’t be evil, I have such a beautiful perfect wife. Never mind that he beat her behind closed doors because she did not get pregnant. The people didn’t need to know that.

Vallin had no idea why she wanted to accompany him to his mother, but to be honest he didn’t really care why. She was welcome to witness the shit show. Perhaps it meant she could do some of the comforting of his mother, or take some of the heat of her rage. He was alright with sharing that burden. There was a corner of his mind that saw that as cowardice, but a louder voice in his head, probably the self-preservation welcomed the company.

It didn’t take them long to walk to the castle and Vallin conveniently let the door close behind them before the guards could enter in behind them. It wouldn’t take them long to reopen the door, but it bought her a few seconds to speak freely should she have evidence of any plots that were more than general paranoia.

 

[magellans_demon]

As Vallin responded with his intended actions, Elisa was surprised but kept her expression neutral, she'd expected him to be more naive, more unsure of himself from the first instance and had placed her bets on this by telling him so much. For a moment she questioned herself and her judgement, wishing she could go and lie down. She was stumbling through this day already and this political tightrope needed a steady hand, she could do with rest before she faced this but the day wouldn't stop for her and she dreaded what could be said or done while she slumbered. She would stay as close to the middle of whatever happened now regardless of how she felt.

As liked as she was by some, Elisa knew she would have no real power now unless it was given to her or persuaded from someone by her, there was little chance of her wresting it by force. She wondered with an ache deep inside her how many of those on her side would still favour her when the news spread of the king's death. When they realised the reason they now stood to be ruled by King Valentine was because of her failure to produce Jefferson's heir.

She would have to place her loyalty with someone and there seemed to be no-one other than Vallin, especially as it was many lives she potentially held if she could find any sway over him, not merely her own. He unexpectedly bought her an extra moment to talk but she had very little time to do it before they could be overheard, she may as well take the risk rather than watch his mother or any of the nobles seize control before she even tried.

Elisa answered Vallin's question as quickly as she could.

"Briefly then my lord, I would urge you to consider whether Lord Serrell and Lord Bartle, who between them have many men, horses and ships at their disposal, were so loyally the king's right and left hands because of fealty to the king or because of personal allegiance to Jefferson and the gold he could offer them, and where that loyalty will move to now. And although I was not privy to most of their plans, consider whether your brother spent his last evenings at the fireside with his wife from pure love and devotion, or to show her how the flames would look burning through the villages she ran through as a child before he replaces them all with a mine."

As she heard the door opening again behind them, Elisa threw caution to the wind to try one more piece of information, lowering her voice so only he would be able to make out her words.

"Although the common knowledge that Lord Serrell's brother is apparently one of your lovers should mean you have sway over their house's allegiance of course my lord."

Elisa kept her eyes facing forward but watched from the side of her vision for his reaction, knowing the full truth to those particular rumours would make a difference to exactly what leverage she might hold over him, what kind of support she might be able to offer him.

 

[The_gladiator]

“So, not plots against me, just plots against your homeland.” His words were low, but still nothing that he really cared if anyone overheard. He made a mental note to investigate her words, but that very much seemed like the lesser threat, at least at the moment. They very well could start trouble for him, but Vallin was hopeful they would be too wrapped up in the funeral to think of rebellion, if it did move beyond just attacks on her land. He was not aware of any plans Jefferson had had for her homeland, but he wouldn’t put it past the snake either.

As the guards opened the door and stepped through Vallin adopted a look of bemusement. “I would not listen to every rumor you hear.” The guards were used to people spouting rumors and accusations at Vallin, so there honestly was no surprise to be found in his words. However he did mentally review that yes indeed Ambassador Serrell, the lord’s younger brother was one of his mother’s lovers, giving credence to that rumor. He had covered for the woman once, and she’d used it to trap him for years.

Schooling his thoughts and expression he led the way towards his mother’s chambers. There were two guards flanking either side of the deeply recessed doorway with its beautiful nature scenes carved around the opening. His father had pampered his wife quite a bit. Though to be honest some of the carvings could use a good dusting.

As Vallin approached with the queen still on his arm the pikes came down in an x shape in front of them blocking his progress. “What do you want worm,” one of the guards spat. It was very clear that he had just seen Vallin, that the guard had been so blinded by his hatred that he missed the queen on the arm of Vallin.

“Is that any way to speak to your queen?” Vallin snapped, sounding much harsher than anyone in the hall had ever heard him speak.

“I…” the second guard spoke, “He meant no disrespect my…” Vallin held up a hand instantly silencing the second guard.

“Save what ever insult you were going to throw at me. I could not really be bothered to care any less what you think of me, but you will respect your queen.” These guards had not even heard of the king’s death yet, had they, why were they so oblivious. Was their hatred of him so strong? Vallin had long wanted to punish these two and now had his excuse.

“Kneel.” Vallin asked quietly. He did not yell, did not raise his voice, something that had always been seen as week, but suddenly with his even tone it sounded quite a bit firmer.

“I…” the first guard started.

“Kneel before your queen. Vallin again asked in a quiet voice. His hair still hid his expression but his eyes were bright. This time when the guards hesitated, Vallin snapped his fingers at the guards who had followed them into the area. The gesture was as imperious as any Jefferson or his mother would have ever made—they would be proud of him, he was sure. The queens guard, knowing what these other guards did not, snapped to attention and swarmed forward until the two guards were beaten to their knees by spear butts and ax handles and dragged before Elisa.

“Faggot,” one of the guards spat at Vallin’s feet.

“That may be, but she is still your queen, so please apologize.” His voice was still calm, as if nothing had happened. This could not have worked out more perfectly. Vallin needed Elisa to remember who she was, needed their people to remember who she was. She ruled until he took the throne. And if these soldiers did not even know his brother was dead, which he was starting to doubt, they were grossly out of line. Also, they were two of his tormenters, and this felt good, very good.

“I apologize my queen,” the other guard said bowing his forehead almost touching the floor in front of Elisa. This was the other one, the one who had not offered the initial insult to Vallin.

The captain of the queen’s guards looked to her, “What would you like us to do with these two my queen?” As he spoke Vallin stepped around him and pulled the door open. He liked the thought of not being announced, or his mother not realizing the queen was with him at first as he let her attend to the guard’s disrespect.

His mother sat on her bed, but rose as Vallin stepped through the door, it closing most of the way behind him, conveniently blocking Elisa from her view. “Valentine, what do you want.” There it was refusal to use his chosen name, but at least she didn’t call him worm or fag or some other epithet.

“I thought you might like to know that Jefferson is dead.” There was no way to sugarcoat it, no pretty words he had for her.

Her face transformed from derision at his mere presence in her room to what probably passed as sadness which morphed to anger. “Why him, why my beautiful perfect son. Why couldn’t it have been you.” And Vallin didn’t know what to say to that.

“I guess it was not my time mother.” Was all he came up with.

“Well, it should have been you, now get out of my sight,” and with that she slapped Vallin across the face. Vallin just looked away. He was willing to stand up to the guards, to put them in their place especially for disrespecting Elisa, but it was also clear he was not sure what to do or unwilling to do anything in retaliation to his mother. He just let his eyes fall to the floor as he always had and backed toward the door that he was certain would be opening with the queen at any moment.

“You will never rule this kingdom,” his mother was ranting, “I will regent for Alexander. This kingdom will not be ruled by some.” Here she let loose a litany of slurs disparaging his supposed sexuality.

“I will be king Mother; you cannot stop it.” Vallin said the right words but was still backing up, his actions not quite matching the words. He needed to find that confidence he had shown in the hallway but it seemed to have abandoned him.

 

[magellans_demon]

Elisa clenched her teeth against each other as Vallin replied, feeling she'd been rebuked by his words, albeit very gently but her concerns dismissed nevertheless. Still, she kept her expression neutral, if she had already said too much or made it sound as though she was only looking out for her own interests the damage was done now and there was no point showing her disappointment.

Perhaps it had been a grave mistake trying to communicate everything going on in her mind, everything she was worried might change now with Jefferson's death, in such a short time, but she'd felt forced to at least try before the queen-mother had the chance to say her piece to influence him.

Vallin's following comment about the rumors around him and his behaviour to the guards gave her at least a small ray of hope that at least her next few days might be safe, give her time to work on him and use herself, her main source of power now, to try and gain what advantage she could.

Although it wasn't the proper way to deal with the matter, Elisa had fully expected that the queen-mother would pressure the new king to get her out of the palace at the earliest hour, given to someone else as soon as possible, get her out of the way to allow there to be only one of any sort of queen left again.

Trying to get her remarried had been Elisa's highest hope for the queen-mother's plan however, the more likely version where she happened to find herself at the bottom of the lake 'due to her loss and grief overwhelming her' didn't bear thinking about. She was confident the queen-mother had only ever tolerated her for the sake of someone to bear heirs for Jefferson, now that hope was gone Elisa hadn't seen what would stand in the way of the other woman finally getting rid of her now, but it seemed that it might be Vallin himself that gave her that moment to breathe.

Seeing his strength in dealing with the guards, the abuse he tolerated for the sake of insisting her position be respected, bolstered her confidence, made her feel she'd started losing her nerve and hope too quickly and needed to continue holding onto her position. She would have to leave her opinion open about Vallin however, having expected less than this quiet strength and resistance from him, and less immediate support.

Turning her attention to the two guards, Elisa felt like treating them with vengeance for the disrespectful way they'd not only treated her but the foul language they'd been happy to shower over someone that was their king, in blood if not in public yet, but more so was someone who had done nothing to injure them. Her way of retaliating however did not tend towards physical punishment.

Addressing her captain, Elisa instructed him to personally see to it that any time the two guards had in their day that was not needed for their guard duties, food or sleep would be spent in service.

"I understand the recent landslip into the river has caused problems for the palace staff and the town in having to travel much further to use the water, I'm sure two extra men working to clear and repair the damage until it is finished would be appreciated."

The guards looked at her with displeasure but obviously did not feel it was worth their while to argue any further after Vallin had reminded them of their place. Elisa finished speaking with the captain of the guard as quickly as possible, keen to see what might be happening in the queen-mother's rooms, instructing him and another of her guards to enter with her but reminded them this would be a matter between family and not to involve themselves unless absolutely necessary. She was feeling far more confident now but not foolish enough to trust the queen-mother or give her any reason to increase her anger either.

As she entered the room Elisa could hear the end of Vallin's mother venting her insults and his reply.

“I will be king Mother; you cannot stop it.”

She felt a sudden urge to go to Vallin, felt empathy for how hard this must be as he made space between himself and his mother, but also felt more sure now he did not need anyone to coddle him.

Instead she stood as close to Vallin as appropriate and focused on the queen-mother who had now turned her gaze towards Elisa upon her entrance.

"You! You have failed my son for the final time, and I have lost my perfect boy. You have absolutely no purpose here any more."

Her eyes flashing back to Vallin she continued,

"This bitch is not worthy of this castle, and I would not inflict such an inferior specimen as you on the kingdom" she scowled. "I will consult Alexander about his coming rule and..."

"No." Elisa cuts in in a low but level voice, grateful she is not facing this woman on her own.

"I am still your queen. I will remain so whilst I bury my husband, and will cease my rule when King Valentine has been crowned. You may pay your respects alongside us or remain confined to your rooms, whichever you would prefer."

Addressing Vallin she added, "Would you accompany me to the king's rooms to prepare for the mourning my lord?"

 

[The_gladiator]

Vallin was still backing away from his mother when Elisa entered the room. Her presence seemed to fortify him and he stopped backing off and it looked like he had just put space between them to prevent her from hitting him again, not that he was afraid of his mother. Had they been lovers or closer Elisa might very well have placed a hand on Vallin’s back in support or made some other gesture of solidarity. He could almost imagine such a thing, but her presence alone was supportive.

His mother continued to rant and the queen put her in her place. Vallin managed not to smile at that, but it took some effort. His mother seethed but there was not much she could say.

“I will come view my son and begin the preparations for his funeral. Queen you may be but I am queen-mother, I am head of the faith, he will be laid to rest in the old way.”

“Only because Jefferson appointed you,” Vallin was not quite able to hold that comment in.

“As he should. Who better to lead our people spiritually in these trying times.”

“Do you really want me to answer that mother?” Vallin said, some of the flippant tongue that got him beat sometimes coming out. “Should we talk about your vow of celibacy…mother?” he asked.

“Why you little. I will not have my honor be besmirched by a useless cocksucker like yourself.”

“Sticks and stones mother.” Vallin looked board at the age-old insult. “You will plan the funeral mother, that is fine, it means less time for you to blather on about my brother ruling. I will accompany queen Elisa to the ball this evening to keep up appearances.” Before his mother could speak Vallin held up a hand, “You always tell me I must obey tradition. So be it. I will attend the party while you organize Jefferson’s funeral proceedings.” It went unspoken that this arrangement meant that it was Elisa and himself who would be seen by the nobles directing their people, stepping into the power vacuum, while the queen-mother was relegated to the background, a position Vallin and Elisa had just tricked her into thinking she wanted. They had done it so well that she had demanded it, before she realized the full repercussions.

Vallin headed towards the door nodding to Elisa. “I will walk with you, my queen.” Just before they reached the door Vallin turned back. “And one more thing Mother, there will be no midnight visitors tonight. I do not know if you were a part of what the guards did to me at night, or if it was just my brother behind it, but tonight it stops. There is no one here to stop me from executing them should they try it this time.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Good, be sure it stays that way.”

As they walked out of his mother’s rooms and turned the corner, Vallin’s shoulders seemed to drop. It was like the energy had faded from him. It had taken more out of him than he expected to stand up to her like that, especially at the end. He stopped for a moment his hand coming up to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth where her rings had cut the corner of his mouth, and he seemed to be checking for loose teeth with a practiced tongue. “That could have gone worse,” he commented dryly, his eyes flicking to Elisa.

 

[magellans_demon]

As she watched the back and forth argument between Vallin and the queen-mother, Elisa was glad to not be involved in the discussion for a moment, able to watch the two of them and see a little more of how they both worked and what Vallin had to put up with from his own mother. Not that she was severely shocked, she'd personally seen enough of the queen-mother's cruelty mirrored in her proudest achievement, Jefferson having very obviously not fallen very far from the tree.

Still, she'd long since become accustomed to Jefferson's treatment, she'd been deceived to begin that he'd chosen her for love but it hadn't taken more than a few weeks after their wedding for him to correct that belief, she was only the wife he needed to play a role and expendable if she stopped having a use to him, he'd been happy to remind her. But how savage did you have to be to mistreat your own flesh and blood?

She was learning more about Vallin however in this short time than through much of the last few years, Jefferson having set ideas on who she should spend time with, preferably anyone willing to be his eyes and ears to monitor his wife, and was glad she'd insisted on accompanying him here. It was quite a masterstroke to ensure the ball still went ahead while the queen-mother would be otherwise occupied, at least it would make the event a little more peaceful, and useful.

As they left the room Elisa smiled for a moment in bitter sympathy, seeing how drained Vallin looked from the run in with his mother.

She wondered darkly about what their conversation had referred to, what Vallin had been through, but knew better than to ask. If pain and punishment were one level of hell, being asked to explain them before you were ready to someone else asking sympathetically, pity in their eyes, was another.

"We're still standing" she commented.

Taking his arm through hers again, Elisa started to move away from the queen-mother's quarters, having no need to hear the sobbing, screaming or throwing of various items that would probably start to ensure from within. She placed her free hand gently on his bare arm, idly brushing her thumb over his skin a fraction.

She told herself it was openly only part of a sister-in-law's duty to give comfort in their shared grief, and that for herself it was only what she needed to start to do now, as men seemed to respond to seduction more than any other power she had. Although her marriage was only a matter of hours dead she didn't have time to purely be the grieving widow now, if she could work towards using his probable inexperience in the bedroom over the next few days to buy his favour then it would have to be achieved that way. She tried to ignore the sense of comfort she was also feeling at the same time from being so close to him, she had to rely on Vallin for help but she didn't have to be foolish enough to trust another member of this family after her previous experience.

"Would you actually like to see your brother at this time? I do not wish to seem disinterested for myself, it is more that I have already had my time to pay my respects today and you look tired my lord. It has been a long day already for both of us I know, if you would prefer to eat and rest for a moment I can have refreshments brought to my rooms. I would welcome the company unless you have other plans."

 

[The_gladiator]

Finding nothing was loose or missing Vallin stepped onward, managing a small half smile hidden by his hair at her comment.

He made no objection when she slid her arm through his. Her touch was kind of nice. He was unused to gentle kind touches. It was much more common that people touched to hurt him. The way she slid her other hand over his arm made the touch deliberate, not just out of convenience. She must feel very lost and alone. He realized he had stood up for her, it was natural for her to take some comfort from that.

He let his eyes sweep to the left to meet hers. “I have no desire to see the p…” he paused, “The king’s body at this time. I will get a belly full of it, you know my mother will make me stand Vigil for him.” He just looked tired at that thought. He had just been up the entire night, and he had no idea how many of the nights his mother would insist he stand over his brother’s body as it lay in state. “Sometimes I wish that my people just burned our dead like yours did. Put him in a damn boat and send him away with a good fire arrow.” He looked apologetic after he spoke bowing his head, “I apologize my queen, I should not speak ill of your beloved husband, or our religion.”

Vallin hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, and was not guarding his tongue like he should. He wasn’t sure she would care. He didn’t exactly think the two got along. But that didn’t always mean that they would be ok with others talking poorly of someone even they did not like. It wasn’t a secret Jefferson had hated Vallin, and the hatred seemed somewhat mutual based on his comments. “My poor manners aside my queen, I would love to eat, and appreciate the invitation. If it please my queen I would share a meal with you.”

 

[magellans_demon]

Hearing Vallin's comments about the lying in state that was to come Elisa smiled for what felt like the first time that day, the day that had already felt like several years passing one after the other.

"There is no apology needed. I am truly sorry this will ask so much of you. You have no idea of the deep peace and comfort it would bring me at this moment to be stood by the waves, on the same sand as my ancestors stood, watching him float away to the gods instead of...this" she finished wistfully, pushing through another wave of fatigue as they walked, brought on thinking about her homeland.

"I would be very glad to have you join me, any time you wish. I know we have been family in name only for much of these years, I hope you do not believe that was something I insisted upon. If anything I could do now, any friendship I could offer, would bridge the gap I would be genuinely pleased."

Reaching her set of rooms, Elisa showed Vallin into her sitting room and to one of the large chairs by the fireplace.

"Excuse me for a moment, I must dispense my maids from watch of the king."

Walking to the kings rooms, Elisa called her lady's maids from outside the bedroom as she had no intention of returning to that particular kings hellhole room before the end of time now, whether his body lay inside or not, and would not miss the experience at all.

Drawing Joan, the maid who had been with her the longest, to one side Elisa instructed her carefully, knowing how securely she could be relied upon.

"The queen-mother will be seeing to all arrangements for the king now and I expect will be here shortly so none of you are to return to the king's quarters, I'm sure she would not appreciate it. I will be dining in my rooms with Sir Vallin, please see that a good meal and wine is sent up as soon as you can but you are to attend to us yourself, no-one else is to enter unless they can be relied upon not to be... foolish. I have no need for dramatics or giggling over gossip, only respect for my guest, please see to everything he will need."

Leaving Joan to instruct the two other maids and continue her work, Elisa let her eyes wander around the room for a few moments, observing the furniture and the old king's belongings, mentally noting what she would send to be burnt at the earliest opportunity, needing no lasting memories from him where she could help it. At least he would also get his funeral pyre in some fashion that way. She sat on the edge of a sofa and forced herself to slow her breathing as the room oppressed her, she wished she could feel some sort of grief for losing him, remember some sort of happiness he brought her that she would now lose, rather than merely feel grief for her own new situation and relief in being free of his rule.

By the time Elisa returned to her own rooms she was content to see Joan had seen to Vallin's comfort as she expected, having drawn a footstool up to his feet, laid a bowl of warm scented water and soft cloth on a table beside him and was stoking the fire until the flames grew larger to bring a little more warmth to the room.

Sinking into the chair opposite Vallin she waited until chalices of wine and large plates of meat, breads, pastries and fruit had been laid on the table before them before she dismissed Joan with gratitude and allowed herself to relax into the safety of her own room.

Urging Vallin to eat but taking only a goblet of wine and a little fruit herself she returned her attention to him, wishing that she had been given chance to get to know him before now, trying to read what sort of king he would be.

"Would you like anything else? Apart from the next few days and nights to have passed?" she asked with a grim smile.

 

[The_gladiator]

Vallin lay his hand over hers on his arm when she spoke of wishing to be at her homeland. He wanted to offer to send her home, but the moment wasn’t right. He didn’t trust her words. It wasn’t that he found her inherently untrustworthy, it was more that he had been shunned and hated by too many people to truly believe her words. So, he opted to stay quiet. Time would tell, and actions spoke louder than words. Jefferson had taught him that. He just kept his head down. Better to be thought rude than open one’s mouth and prove it. The words of some mentor or another drifting through his mind.

He merely nodded as she excused herself. His eyes drifted around the room taking in the queen’s style. None of it really stood out to him except for the beautiful piano in one corner. He rose to go and look at it. This had to be the only beautiful thing Jefferson had been a part of. He didn’t know if Elisa played it, but it had been one of Jefferson’s bridal gifts to his wife.

Vallin stepped closer to it just barely letting his finger tips brush over the wood. Someone had made this instrument with care. It was obviously well taken care of, though he had never heard it played. That did not mean she did not play it, but merely that he had never heard her. He let his fingers poise over the keys after he had reverently folded back the wooden cover. However just before he could play a simple chord to hear the gorgeous instrument, he suddenly heard a noise at the door and whipped around, his hair flinging back from his face as he dropped into a defensive posture.

He took a deep breath as he realized that it was merely one of the queen’s handmaidens. He didn’t know her name but she looked just as shocked as him.

“What were you doing with that,” she snapped.

“I was just looking,” Vallin sounded chagrinned like he had done something wrong. Slowly he stepped back toward the chair Elisa had led him to. Joan’s eyes flicked to him and she blanched a bit seeing his face was uncovered. At her involuntary flinch, Vallin lowered his head, the hair sliding back into place. “I meant no harm.”

The maid approached and seemed to collect herself. “Can I draw you up a stool for your feet Lord Valentine?” she asked her voice softer with a note of proper respect for his rank present. Vallin merely nodded, not wishing one, but figuring the woman wanted to feel useful. They did not speak of the piano and his touching it. Had he committed some sort of sin, or did she just guard her mistress’s things. Vallin couldn’t tell. He knew though without invitation he would not try again. However it stood in the corner, the keys still exposed where he had opened it. Would the queen notice and say anything?

“I have sent for food for you sir,” Joan said softly. Vallin only nodded his thanks to the woman. He was used to the looks and stares, the whispers and rumors. If it wasn’t the scars, it was his orientation. She had been kinder than most, at least once he had returned to where she thought he belonged, not snooping around the queen’s things.

When Elisa returned Vallin sat eyes down, hands folded in his lap. That is until the food arrived and he swung his feet to the ground sat forward and began to eat. His manners were impeccable, yet he rushed like someone might take his food away.

He actually snorted a bit of a laugh at her words, “The farce cannot be over soon enough my queen.” He agreed with her. He looked up at her, blue eyes meeting hers, “Why did you bring me here my lady, why do you suddenly have interest in me?” he figured he knew the answer, because he would be king, and all sorts of people that wanted nothing to do with him would probably come around now, but he wondered what her answer would be. “You talk of mending bridges or bringing us close together, but why bother, you never even noticed me before,” and he couldn’t quite hide the bitterness at that last statement.

 

[magellans_demon]

As Vallin replied, Elisa immediately felt the slight sting of his words, knowing he was right and hearing the hurt in his comment but also feeling resentment bubble that he was judging her, throwing back her offer of friendship over something she never really had a choice in.

She knew though she should not be taking this personally, should not risk being too open with him, she needed to seduce him, gain what power she could in the time she had left. She knew all the pretty words she should use to do things the proper way, try and flatter and appease him, but there at least he could not possibly be like his brother. He could not have spent years being outrageously praised for his status, looks or as the favoured child, growing twisted and arrogant with that. If she opened herself up to him and showed too much of her true feelings though she risked finding he was still just like the rest of his family, with his own twist on their seam of cruelty but what was the alternative, stay meek and quiet only to find out the truth later?

"I'm sorry if I have caused any offence my lord. What would you have had me do instead?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked into his eyes.

"Would you have had me disobey my husband and my king? Either are adequately dangerous for any woman and I am.... was, the only woman in the kingdom lucky enough to be able to do both at the same time." she said, meeting his bitter edge with her own, at least they had that in common.

"Now, for a few days, when I am suddenly without a husband or a king to watch my tongue - would you think more of me if I used that freedom to still say nothing? Wept and wailed to show off my loss like a prize? Whether or not you take my words seriously, I will still regret if I have failed to offer my service or friendship."

Glancing away from Vallin, Elisa frowned slightly as she saw her piano sitting open, knowing it would have been strange for Joan to miss that in her normal attentions to the room, wondering if it was him and whether he had an interest in music, perhaps that would be a way to smooth over the situation now that she had probably irritated him further.

If she needed any other warning to remember that beauty could be deceptive, that exquisite instrument in the corner was it. On the day it had been ordered she was a joyful naïve maiden, walking along the sands in the throes of a blissful courtship and engagement, Jefferson showering her with all the sweet words, promises, flowers and dances she could wish for. On the day it had been installed into it's place she was a wife who already understood how good his mask was and how abominable the face behind the mask was. If Vallin truly thought she could be repulsed by his scars or supposed lovers by now, he really was inexperienced enough to need her support.

"Did you want some music my lord?" she asked, indicating the piano. "If I've invited you here as my part of this whole farce then I may as well keep up the pretence as a simpering host." she added with sarcasm.

Elisa crossed to the piano and settled herself at the stool, experimentally playing a few keys before softly playing one of her favourite melodies, losing herself in the music, managing to forget everything for a few moments.

 

[The_gladiator]

Her words were harsh, starkly honest. He was surprised at their venom. However, he deserved that. In his pain he sometimes forgot that Jefferson might have been harsh to others too. He didn’t realize that had extended to his prized wife, the beloved queen. She had always kept to herself but he figured she was just homesick or wrapped up in his brother. Could he have been wrong?



“No, you would not have deserved to have done to you what was done to me.” He murmured, fingers lifting to touch his own cheek, a silent reference to his scars. He wondered if Jefferson had ever told her about what he’d done to his brother, throwing him through the window because he thought their mother loved Vallin more. Laughable, honestly.



When she noticed the piano and bitterly brought it up, he wanted to argue, wanted to rail in protest with the snap of her words. He didn’t deserve her harshness. Though he breathed a long sigh and let it go. This was a woman who lost her husband, to say she’d been through a lot that day would be an understatement. He wanted to tell her that he had wished to play it, not demand she entertain him, but before he could speak, she had started to play.



The tension left her face, and it was clear she was getting lost in the music, it was not dissimilar to when he himself played. He had helped to get a piano for Mother Rel, the high priestess who oversaw the common people of the capital. For his service the priestess had taught him to play it. His siblings had all been forced to take instrument lessons, most of them including Jefferson raging against it. He, the only one who had been interested had not been given the opportunity by his family. Why would they waste the energy. He would be better off going to etiquette classes, being stabbed by the fork of the instructor every time he ate in an imperfect way, or worse.



The instrument meant freedom to him, it was something that was his, not his family’s. He recognized the irony of that thought considering almost every member of his family and the court played, but he saw his playing as outside that. He felt himself drawn closer, moving almost silently on light feet until he stood beside her to her right. He did not touch her, but his eyes closed listening to the melody. He let them drift back open so his eyes could fall to her graceful hands on the keys. There was nothing quite like watching the hands of an artist move. He felt torn between watching her and closing his eyes to enjoy the sound.



Before he could stop himself, his hands were drawn to the keys. He knew the melody she played. It was a traditional piece from her homeland. However, it was a 4-hand melody. It was originally written as a duet, where two pianists would work together to play the song. She seemed to be playing an abbreviated version that could be played by one person. It lacked some of the higher counter melodies.



Counting in his head he waited for the beginning of the next passage and began to play the counter melody on the high keys of the piano, his left hand coming down atop hers, a gentle touch, a silent offer to play with his left hand what she was playing with her right. The song was also missing the low end, the chords that belonged to fortify the foundation of the piece. His taking over what her right hand was playing would allow her to switch her left hand to her right and use her left on the low end of the piano to complete the proper nature of the song.



He poised there waiting for her to pull away, to stop playing all together. Did she even know the full version. He recognized that her people had composed it for stringed instruments, the wood of their forest making some of the most beautiful violins and cellos ever created. It had been one of his people that had adapted the work for the piano, but he was hopeful she had played the full version before, that what he had done hadn’t broken the mood, hadn’t interrupted her. He simply felt the melody needed the proper treatment.

 

[magellans_demon]

Noticing Vallin standing beside her suddenly, Elisa expected he would rebuke her for how she had spoken to him and so she continued to play regardless, she was in no hurry to hear those words. Her shoulders tensed automatically, waiting for the cutting words, or worse, to hit her.

Feeling the unexpected touch when his hand brushed against hers instead, her breath hitched briefly, surprised at the tenderness. Her fingers fumbled for a moment, hitting a handful of incorrect notes as she became distracted by his move next to her, pulling herself back into focus. Moving to the left, perching on the edge of the large stool to make room for him, Elisa slid her hands further down the piano, readjusting the notes she played as he started to complete the other half of the full piece. She turned her head a fraction towards him with a hint of a smile playing across her lips, watching him play but not wanting to disturb the moment by staring and unnerving him.

Her fingers traced the keys she knew well as she listened to the sound, her vision blurring as tears gathered in her eyes. She'd never heard the unabridged melody since she left her homeland, learning each half separately on the piano herself, but held it as a treasured souvenir of her people and had never been tempted to ask Jefferson to share it with her, sticking from then on to the version she could play solo. Playing music was something you did to serve, in his opinion, he was the king, why should he ever make effort to entertain anyone else when the rest of the world, including her, existed to serve him?

Her father had played it with her mother, the two regularly spending the evening together to play on strings, the sight of them together encouraging her that love was unbreakable, safe and so easy, but it turned out that was only for some. Her mother had always said there had to be a devoted heart in anyone who truly loved art or music but Elisa felt a long way from her advice now.

She felt her cheeks dampen but closed her eyes against the tears, unwilling to stop the music until it reached its natural end. As they finished the piece she looked away briefly to wipe her eyes, a blush rising slightly over her cheeks as her self consciousness hit her but she turned back to Vallin anyway, wishing to keep the connection, not wanting either of them to move away just then.

"You play beautifully" she murmured in surprise.

Moving achingly slowly, as if she was teetering on the edge of some delicate precipice, Elisa reached up and lightly shifted his hair away from where it draped like a curtain over his cheek, smoothing it behind his ear to be able to meet his eyes again.

"Please, would you play something else?" she asked, almost in a whisper, already half expecting him to refuse, react badly, perhaps towards her, and for that moment to end but watching herself take the risk before she could hold herself back.

 

[The_gladiator]

The missed notes were a discord of disharmony. However, she reacted quickly. She made no objection to his action or touch, merely recovered and made the proper adjustment after that initial fumble. The peace was truly lovely. He had heard it played on stringed quartet only once, one of the summers he spent vacationing in her homeland. He couldn’t even remember who had played it. It could have been anyone though, so many evenings there were spent in song, whether it was played or sung. His father had loved music. His mother loved it in her way, but she had weaponized it against her children, especially after King Luther, his father, had been killed.

It was a perfect moment. Music had long transcended the gaps between even distant strangers. They played together like they had done it before, though he’d never even been this close to her before. He accepted the invitation and let himself rest on the far end of the bench, careful not to crowd her as they played.

When the last notes had faded away with a chord from her and a rippling glissando of notes from him, they were left with nothing but the ring of the beautiful instrument.

Before he could move, she had complimented his playing and then her hand had touched him, him of all people and slid the mass of dark hair from the left side of his face. His left hand lifted as if to hide the scar his eyes flicking to her, something somewhere between fear and trepidation in his eyes. The hair still covered the right side of his face, but the left was open to her gaze, the slanting of the late morning sun revealing to her high cheekbones, a straight jaw. He was prettier than Jefferson, if one could look past the scars. Looks that had been much more masculine on his brother were softer on Vallin, so if unmarred he might have been seen as more beautiful than handsome. The family connection was there, but Vallin looked more like the statues of King Luther than the rugged perfection of his brother. His eyes were a blue that could almost change with his mood, they darkened with his anger, for example.

He was aware of the tears on her face; he had clearly touched her. He had not set out to do so, just felt drawn to honor the piece as intended, yet touch her it clearly had. As she asked him to play, he started to shake his head. He had aborted the attempt to hide his scars. She would see what she would see. He was so tired of hiding himself just to protect the feelings of others. He let his eyes meet hers, looking at her more directly as if weighing and measuring her.

He seemed to not mind what he saw there because after taking a deep breath he nodded. “If it please my lady.” However, the words weren’t subservient or mocking though the words them selves could have been. Instead, it felt like he was honoring her request in the best way he knew how, and etiquette had been so beaten into him it fell out of his mouth without even trying.

He lowered his hands back to the keys and let his hands hover there. It was like he was trying to think what to play, what to share with her. Finally, he struck a chord, it was a haunting dissonant sounding opening. He let his eyes flutter closed and began to play. The piece was called the widow’s watch. It was a song about the last queen of her people, before annexed by his own all those years ago. The lyrics described how proud the queen was to send her ten sons and husband off to war with the southerners, Vallin’s people. She would stand on the cliffs overlooking the sea every day it was said just waiting for her family to come home. When she had received word that her husband and the last of her son’s had died, the stories and balad he was playing said that she had hurled herself from the cliffs to her death.

Tragic though it was, he knew that the widow queen’s daughter had survived, had been the one to make peace by allying herself with the ones who killed her family. They had united against a common foe as seaborn western marauders had come ashore. It was a classic tale of the enemy of my enemy is my friend, perhaps also a little of united we stand but divided we fall. The widow’s daughter had gone on to have children, and he was fairly certain queen Elisa could trace her blood back to her.

The song he played did not tell the entire tale, though playing it brought the whole story to mind. He played the first part only, the rolling haunting melody that spoke of the widow’s loss and desperate hope that her family would come back to her. He knew the upbeat song about the daughter, but it didn’t fit the mood quite as well. She had made a serious request, and he could not think of a better way to do as she asked than to continue to honor the heritage of her people. He did not sing the lyrics, he would not go that far, but his lips moved silently, and it was clear he knew them.

 

[magellans_demon]

Watching the uncertainty in Vallin's eyes, his temptation to cover himself, pulled at Elisa's heart. She wanted to reach out, trace her fingers along his cheekbones despite the scars, deepen the connection that it felt had suddenly opened. It would hardly be appropriate though, even though she was hoping to seduce him today wasn't the day that would be the sham that he seemed to be hinting at earlier. She wasn't prepared to use something as real as their connection over the music and piano had been just to help her gain power or status.

As Vallin looked at her she held his gaze steadily, trying to read what was behind the pools of blue. She felt she could see so much depth and tenderness, but constantly reminded herself to be wary, she wasn't the best judge of character and she'd been easily fooled before, by his own family. Better to keep herself at least a little guarded, let no-one completely in, then she'd be ready if and when things soured.

Elisa had thought Vallin was about to refuse her but slowly let out a breath as he agreed to play again, relieved he didn't object to her request but seemed to accept with a slight reverence. Listening to the new melody he played she watched his hands fly over the keys, her eyes widening as she recognised the tune.

She watched as he played with closed eyes, wondering at his choice. Was he only following the theme of music from her homeland, did he know the story behind the song? Was he trying to give her a warning about anyone who tried to fight or challenge what was now his kingdom and the ending that came to them, or was he sympathising with the plight of the widow who preceded the daughter who would have to help broker an alliance between the two lands? Both of which in some ways reflected Elisa's status now in different ways.

As Vallin mouthed the words Elisa very quietly sang along, retracing the story in her mind. When he finished though she still wondered what was going on in his thoughts.

"Thank you" she said, still moved "That was lovely - how do you know these? I didn't know anyone here was that interested in my lands."

Thinking more now on how they'd ended up here, Elisa felt she still owed him some sort of explanation. She knew how little she knew him, and so how little he knew her in return but had no real idea how things had been between him and Jefferson, how much he knew about why she hadn't spent much time with Vallin.

Jefferson preferred her 'seen and not heard' so she was only usually involved with his family on more public occasions, allowed to sit and talk to his mother and sisters but carefully kept away from the older of his brothers. She'd been able to suspect why - Jefferson had a private paranoia of losing anything that he 'owned', he kept his wife monitored and felt he had to keep an 'iron grip' on his title as well. Vallin was the competition, the one that he was jealous of, perhaps, it seemed, for very good reason.

"I meant my words that I am sorry we were never better acquainted. You don't have to believe me but even if Alexander was due to be crowned instead I would still be glad we were getting to know each other now."

 

[The_gladiator]

He couldn’t say what made him play the song he did. However, when she began to softly sing it, he knew it was the right choice. He did not sing along with her, though thought about it, a part of him wanting to.

When the notes had faded away, she thanked him and then asked him where he had learned the piece. He was about to answer her when she went on to tell him she was glad to get to know him.

“Let’s hope that little prick doesn’t become king. He’ll surrender his kingdom to the first woman who offers to suck his cock. I swear to God, all the rumors about me fucking everything that walks are actually true with him.” Alexander was closer to 20 than 30, and known to be popular with the ladies. “He got to do whatever he wanted,” he added the bitterness still there. “Still does. Jefferson was the golden child, could do no wrong, I was the one everyone dumped on, but especially after Jefferson became king, Alexander was treated like my brother’s heir. I’m not exactly jealous,” his tone putting the lie to that statement, “I just wish I knew what was so wrong with me that I wasn’t worthy of being loved.” Why in the hell was he telling her all this. He wasn’t exactly answering her questions or staying on the topic she’d brought up, but she had brought up his brother, a topic Vallin apparently had a few things to say about. “Though I’m one to talk about his sexual proclivities. At least he has gotten some. I’m too scarred for all nobles, the commoners won’t touch me because I’m a royal, and anyone in between thinks I’m gay because of my whore of a mother.”

He wanted to stop; he was having a severe case of diarrhea of the mouth. This totally didn’t fit the mood, but yet, the mood was bound to be broken eventually by something. The magic was over, and he was back to feeling like he didn’t belong here. She was being nice to him; nobles weren’t kind to him. Some of the commoners were, but mostly because he had fought for them and with them, earning their respect.

Taking a deep breath, he blew out a sigh. “I recognize I have said too much, forgive me. None of that was even what you asked.”

 

[magellans_demon]

Listening to Vallin answer her comment, Elisa went through a quick range of emotions, first stunned by his revelations about his younger brother then feeling for him again as he spoke more about his family's treatment, noting with interest his words about what the truth really was behind the rumours about him, ending in an unexpected laugh at his his apology for his words.

He looked so deflated and troubled having made his admissions and she didn't want to make light of it but it was so refreshing to hear someone speak to her from the heart, even about such difficult things, that she couldn't help a small laugh of release in pleasure at the rare novelty.

"Please, don't feel you have to hold your tongue for me. Do you know how many times I hear an honest thought among the 'yes, your majesty', 'no, your majesty', 'what an excellent idea, your majesty'? Speaking to you is like a fresh breeze, feel free to speak your mind."

Placing her hand over his, Elisa looked into Vallin's eyes again.

"I can't see any reason why you should have been unworthy of love. Not everyone is unkind, not everyone will always think you're untouchable..."

Elisa suddenly paused as she heard the voice of one of her guards, too low through the closed door to be able to make out any words but then another voice added themselves, loud enough to be heard clearly, even through the thick wood.

"I don't care if she's occupied. I don't even care if she's in there with the gods themselves, open the door and announce me or I will have your sword!"

Whirling off the piano stool and crossing the room quickly, Elisa opened the door just enough to show herself and observe the visitor. He stood fuming at the young guard who hovered in indecision, who knew his role but found himself faced down by his supposed elder and better man.

"Lord Serrell, what exactly is the meaning of this?" she asked, flushing with sudden anger to match his own.

"I just heard the announcement on behalf of the queen mother that the king is dead! I had to hear it from a page! Fortunately I found the queen mother in his chambers, only to be told that without a moment's thought, you have apparently already pledged fealty to the faggot king? Have your grief of course but have you completely lost your senses? Lord Bartle is raising a council now to advise you, I will escort you and..."

He spoke so fast and with enough venom that it took Elisa a few moments to catch her breath enough to interrupt him.

Unless Jefferson had miraculously returned from the dead, Ambrose Serrell was one of the last people she wanted to see at that moment. He'd been in essence the brother Jefferson wanted - loyal, easily bought with sufficient gold and with the same arrogant view of the world.

"Lord Serrell you forget yourself! I am not your ward and do not need your instruction, I am your queen and will ask if I require your advice. Perhaps I will discuss any necessary matters with you in time, for now you may leave, I have a ball to prepare for."

For a moment Elisa had hope he would follow her words, at least for now, as he turned briefly. Determined however, he slammed his hand against the door, opening it further and stalking past her into her room without asking leave.

Seeing Vallin, Serrell managed somehow to go pale and flush scarlet at the same time.

"Fetch the captain, at once!" Elisa addressed the guard. "Tell him Lord Serrell appears to have lost his mind."

 

[The_gladiator]

Vallin stiffened as she laughed. It was almost a giggle. He wanted to take offense at it but her words gave him pause. He could appreciate the relief and irony that she might not be offended by honesty seeing as she heard so little of it. He only nodded.



Her hand rested atop his where it sat on the piano. Her touch was gentle, her hand warm and soft. He was acutely aware of her touch. Gentle touch was so rare to him that he took notice of even the smallest of details.



Because it was another tender moment, of course it would be interrupted. Vallin was sure he was fated to never be allowed to enjoy a single entire moment in his life. He recognized the pompous tones of Lord Serrell even before Elisa opened the door. He expected no less from him but couldn’t help flinching at the words he used. Then it was like he took in a deep breath and stiffened his spine. He did not have to fear him anymore. His resolve coincided with when she shoved past Elisa. Like with the guards, Vallin seemed willing to do for her, what he either couldn’t or wouldn’t bother to do for himself.



Lord Serrell opened and closed his mouth like a fish “Why you little… I…”



“Yes, the fagot king heard everything you said,” Vallin had turned from the piano after closing it reverently. “Is there something I can help you with? Are you finally interested in what your brother enjoyed with me?” It was a low blow. Ambrose Serrell, like everyone else was sure that his brother had been fucking Vallin. He was the entire reason that Vallin was seen as gay in fact. If he had only been able to keep his cock out of Vallin’s mother, the rumors would not have started. But Griffin Serrell had leaned into the cover that Vallin had provided. Leaned into Vallin’s loyalty to his mother, and Ambrose Serrell was sure that Vallin had corrupted his brother, and had sworn that one day he’d kill him.



Vallin recognized he had just waved a red flag in front of a rampaging bull, but he didn’t much care. He stood slowly, with no hurry. His walk was suddenly feminine, it was very clear he was antagonizing Lord Serrell.



“The queen is none of your concern and you will never rule here faggot.”



“Is that so?” Vallin remained calm not raising his voice even though Lord Serrell was shouting now. What normally was seen by his people as a weakness in Vallin suddenly seemed like a strength, for just as he had been with the guards, Vallin’s posture showed nothing but silent strength.



One half of his hair was already pushed back thanks to Elisa and to up the anti-Vallin slid the other side back, also tucking it behind an ear. This left the scars plainly visible. Even so angry Lord Serrell flinched.



“Yes Ambrose, I’ve survived worse than you.” And Vallin stepped closer. “You’ve done your worst to me and my brother beat you at beating me. Not that I liked the prick but he was even better at being an ass hole than you are.”



The next few seconds happened so fast they were tough to follow. Lord Serrell just suddenly had a knife in his hand. Most of their people carried a belt knife so that he had one came as no surprise but even Vallin hadn’t expected him to pull a weapon on him. He sidestepped the initial slash, grabbing him by the wrist and twisting hard as the two of them grappled. Vallin rode the older taller man to the ground, his own knife sliding home under lord Serrell’s ribs. It was not a killing blow. Vallin had made sure of that, but it was one that the lord would not soon recover from. “Just remember Ambrose, you started this,” Vallin hissed through clenched teeth.



“I hate you, you son of a bitch,”



“You at least got some of that right,” Vallin muttered. He leaned closer to the lord and lowered his voice so hopefully Elisa wouldn’t hear. “You liked me well enough when you forced your cock into my mouth while my brother’s guards held you for me. When was that, just a few months ago now.”



Lord Serrell coughed, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”



“I’m sure you don’t,” Vallin’s sarcasm dripped from every word of that last sentence as he climbed off Lord Serrell, who lay stunned, Vallin’s knife still embedded in his abdomen.



“I’d have a doctor remove that for you,” Vallin said calmly, “As soon as you pull it out the blood will increase exponentially. When you do, I’d like that knife back, it was a present from my brother.” Vallin was somewhat taunting him, but in his eyes he had it coming.



“Finish it you cock sucking prick.”



“Oh no Lord Serrell, I don’t think I will,” Vallin’s tone remained even but there was a tightness there, like he was keeping a lid on his emotions. They had literally been beaten out of him so often that he was hyper aware now, hyper controlled. “You will live, and perhaps with time you will learn to not underestimate me, or disrespect the queen in her own quarters.”



Vallin turned toward Elisa, “Did I hear you say you had summoned some guards? I believe Lord Serrell needs escorted out.” With that he looked down at him again and amended, “Perhaps carried out is a better term.” And here was the first crack, first hint that he wasn’t the psychopath killer the previous few moments had suggested he could have been, for when he met her eyes again his blue eyes now fully exposed were haunted, like someone who had just faced their past and won.

 

[magellans_demon]

As soon as Ambrose pushed his way into the room, the situation between himself and Vallin seemed to ignite quickly before Elisa could say anything or consider intervening. She already had a small understanding of why the two would not find it easy to be civil to each other, having heard the now normal rumours and occasionally caught Ambrose's drunken jesting or complaining with Jefferson about their younger brothers, so had been fruitlessly hoping to keep them apart.

Vallin's cold challenge to Ambrose's hot temper inflamed the situation in waves, the more Serrell's rage grew the more steadily Vallin seemed to face him, provoking the other man with his measured comments. Ambrose had the anger but from what Elisa could glean from their conversation, Vallin had much more reason for complaint and part of her was absorbed in watching his self-control despite this.

The argument did not take long to descend however, Elisa stepped back, freezing as she pressed herself against the wall behind her as Ambrose's knife flashed through the space between the men. Her throat closed against any words, unable to cry out as they descended to floor, wrestling so quickly she couldn't make out immediately what was happening, her stomach rolling as she tried to detect whether the lord had carried out his intention.

After what seemed eternal moments Vallin raised himself away from the other man, joint relief and dread flooding through her as she saw how much worse Ambrose had come off from his own attack. She remained watching them, barely able to move but willing herself to move out of the room as Vallin seemed to gloat over the victory.

As she finally met his eyes however, Elisa felt herself catch breath more freely, having waited to see pleasure or spite in his face but instead sensing how much he was confronting internally.

Processing his comments, she moved halfway out of the door, surveying the corridor. It was still empty but she could hear running steps on the stairs, far too heavy and numerous for a hurrying maid. The captain emerged, followed by a small collection of guards, striding up towards her at full speed.

Preceding them into the room, Elisa immediately directed them, finding her voice again, if only to prevent Vallin himself having to explain the disturbance ahead.

"Please take Lord Serrell to spare quarters and send for the surgeon, he temporarily lost his wits and needed to be...subdued. He is not to return here, even if he is able."

Seeing the scene in the room and making his own judgement, the captain placed himself protectively in front of her, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword, drawing it enough to show the steel as if Vallin was about to turn on them next.

"Please, a moment, your majesty" the captain addressed Elisa, his eyes flicking away from Vallin only long enough to lightly press her arm, guiding her from the room.

To avoid inflaming the situation she moved into the corridor but wavered, wanting to check what was happening inside yet paying attention to the soldier.

"Are you well your majesty? If you are in need of protection only say the word, I will accompany you elsewhere until I am sure Sir Valentine is no longer present and ensure your safety as long as needed. I can call more men...." he spoke in a low voice, ensuring no-one inside the room would overhear.

"Thank you captain" she interrupted him "I appreciate your swift help but all will be right once Lord Serrell has been removed. He made the challenge to Sir Valentine, decided my quarters would be appropriate for a duel, he is welcome to take the consequences. Sir Valentine was merely defending me"

The captain looked uncertain but had little choice left but to take her at her word, Elisa suddenly feeling able to stand confidently in the wake of seeing Vallin's strength.

"Yes your majesty. I will leave two men at your door now however, in case you need."

Two of the guards passed them, awkwardly carrying Ambrose draped between them from the room. He tried to murmur something but Elisa turned away from him back into her room, closing the door quickly behind her.

She looked in concern at Vallin, her eyes roving over his body cautiously.

"Are you hurt?" she asked at first, until she had satisfied herself he had not caught the edge of Ambrose's knife.

Hovering a few feet from him she found herself caught between her instinct and formality, feeling an urge to go to him and offer some sort of comfort after the recent revelations but she held herself in check. She had no rights over him, he wasn't her lover after all, they still barely knew each other, the feeling twisted at her though.

Instead she moved back to sit in the armchair, smoothing her hand over her eyes as the day seemed to stretch out. In the back of her mind a question raised itself, recalling Vallin's haunted look, wondering if any part of him would understand her own need to have defended herself, reached the depths she had so recently. She locked this thought away quickly however - defending yourself against immediate attack with injury was understandable, she felt sure even he would not know how to forgive her helping to remove a life as they lay helpless, even when it was his brother.

"Sit and rest again, stay here as long as you wish, it was good of him after all to go to so much trouble to prove my concerns about him were well founded" she started, trying to make light of the situation.

"I should go, make sure everything is in order for the ball and remind them who still rules, who will rule and who needs to follow. I will make it clear I do not wish to have my intentions or loyalty questioned again. I would prefer not to live in a kingdom ruled by lies and gossip as it seems some would wish. I'm sorry, I would prefer to stay and continue to talk however..." she finished a little longingly.

 

[The_gladiator]

Vallin stood a bit shell shocked. He had done it. He had stood up to one of his tormenters and won. He blew out a sigh when the guard started to draw his sword. The man was loyal to the queen, so much was evident. He seemed to bare no love for Vallin, yet he’d obeyed his orders before. Therefore, he made no fuss when the captain shepherded her out of the room.

Vallin stepped over to retrieve Serrell’s knife. He checked the heft and balance of the weapon, walking the spinning blade over the backs of his knuckles, the guards’ eyes widening, before he caught it and slid it into the sheath where his own blade had started moments ago. A guard seemed like he wanted to object but he didn’t. These men were hers, loyal to their queen. They were not the guards that usually guarded he or his mother. Those were the ones Vallin truly hated. Most of the queen’s guard seemed like decent sorts, even if they weren’t fond of him.

As she returned, she seemed concerned for his health. He only shook his head at her question. Though he seemed a bit haunted in his eyes still. “I am unharmed.”

“I should go to Lord Bartle’s council, make it clear that this will not be tolerated.” Then he realized he had no official authority. He shook his own head, “I cannot go yet. Though I don’t think you should go either. Send guards my queen, tell them to disband. If you really plan to back my rule, tell them I will see them 5 days hence, after the funeral and my coronation. Regular business may resume at that time. If you don’t mind my saying going to their council meeting is not where you will have the high ground. Make them approach you from a place of your strength. If they wish to start something let them disturb their land’s beloved mourning queen at the mid-summer’s eve ball, or perhaps at her husband’s funeral? They wouldn’t dare.” Vallin hadn’t intended on giving her quite so much advice but she had told him to speak his truths. “Your captain is a good man; I think you can trust him. Do not trust Jefferson’s guard, even the knights of the king’s guard. I am not even sure of the loyalty of Lord Thurston who just knighted me this morning.”

He stood after he’d spoken. “I…” he paused, “I must seek a few moments of peace before this farse of a ball. I apologize for what you had to witness between myself and Lord Serrell.” His words were formal, distant, as if from someone who was thinking far too much or hard. It was obvious that his earlier vulnerability was locked now behind a mask of self-control.

 

[magellans_demon]

As Vallin spoke, Elisa was relieved he hadn't come off particularly worse for the encounter with Serrell, physically at least, but could see the look in his eyes and wished they were closer, could discuss this as friends, it felt as though they could both use one at the time.

She was surprised but pleased when Vallin continued to talk, advising her on what to do next. She was supposed to be working her way into advising him, gaining what influence she could, but it was good to hear him echoing some of her own thoughts, giving her more help and, more than that, speaking to her openly again. It was a shame when he had to shut down again, she had enjoyed when she could see a little further inside him, but could understand at least in part why he had to.

"Thank you for your advice, that sounds a wise path." she replied, equally formally now. "I do indeed plan to continue giving you my loyalty, for what it may be worth."

In spite of herself she smiled slightly in irony at a memory, returning a little more to their earlier honesty momentarily.

"And it may help to know, my guards were the rejects, not my opinion but in Jefferson's mind, the men too slow to take offence, too willing to defend rather than immediately attack, too aware of their training, some of them trained by your father as I understand. He wanted unwavering loyalty to himself, or at least to what he could pay, he didn't like the idea of inheriting his father's legacy instead of building his own. He thought the guards would suffice for me, thought it would be suitable humiliation for them to guard a woman rather than fight for him.

But if you would advise me not to trust the others then who will you turn to when you are crowned? You may be well aware but some of the men Jefferson chose himself are little more than mercenaries. My guards may never like you, I could not guarantee of changing that, but I fully trust any of them would have the respect to protect the king with their lives. When you are king I would be glad if you would at least take the best of my guard."

She looked straight at Vallin as she finished. "I take little enough pleasure in the current funeral arrangements, I do not wish to attend another shortly after."

"My apologies however for keeping you longer. Please, get as much rest as you can. I hope you will find a little more peace at the ball at least if everyone honours the occasion. I look forward to seeing you there."

Once Vallin had left, Elisa took long moments to collect herself, sitting back at the piano stool, her hands resting on the closed cover, running through the day's events in her mind and wishing she could bring back the more tender moments with Vallin, stretch them out without the violent interruptions. The feeling only made managing all this more complicated however, he was merely supposed to be the inexperienced and shunned new king she was more prepared to tolerate than most. Someone she could influence, seduce and guide to meet her wishes, protect and ease her life. He was not supposed to be someone she was already enjoying feeling closer to, finding common ground with and looking forward to spending more time with, she couldn't afford to lose her heart when she had enough to hold onto already.

Pulling herself together, Elisa instructed her guards in the way Vallin had advised, they had obviously been well warned by the captain and respectfully refused to leave their post for long but called for further men to go. Ringing for her maids, Elisa forced herself to break from having to worry about politics for the time being, her maids fussing around her, fetching sweetmeats, running to check on arrangements for the ball as she took time to lay down, falling into gentle chatter as they felt they should console or cheer her.

After bathing and dressing in a suitable long black velvet dress adorned with intricate silver embroidery they turned their attention to perfect her looks, painting her face and re-dressing her hair to a suitably formal style, her long hair pinned up, interwoven with braids and her crown placed on top. At Elisa's request, Joan adorned her with none of the jewellery Jefferson had ever presented her with, using only the heirlooms she had brought with her from her homeland.

She sat watching the fire as the time slipped by, knowing she couldn't put off the evening and the inevitable for long but needing a moment to run through everything that had happened that day and all that was still waiting for her, delaying leaving as long as possible.

 

[The_gladiator]

Vallin only shrugged at her questions about guards. He knew what he wanted to do to some of the guards, but who would defend him was another question. He was unsure but was fairly certain he would learn who was loyal and who was not soon. He didn’t want to share with her the dark thoughts he was having.

Vallin headed from the rooms returning to his own quarters. His thoughts running through what had happened, and what might happen next. He perched on the cot in his room. Jefferson had thrown him out of his childhood room years ago. Not that he wanted to live so close to his mother anymore, but Vallin had been to dungeons with better accommodations. He glanced around at the bare walls and it started to sink in that he did not have to live here anymore. He could move to the kings’ quarters once crowned. This room with all it’s dark memories could be erased.

The newly knighted man looked up as his door opened without a knock. They never knocked. He wondered when this would happen. It did not take long for four guards to pile into the room. The big mercenary types that Elisa had warned him about. These were no strangers to Vallin though, not since Jefferson had hired them from Lord Serrell. “Four of you?” Vallin asked sounding tired.

“You’ll pay for what you did you little worm.”

“Get on with it,” Vallin said still sounding tired as he slowly stood to his feet. “You fellows realize that I won’t just take it this time, right?”

“You’ll take what ever we give you faggot,” the first guard said brandishing a club. Crude but affective Vallin thought as he looked at the other men. Two were bare handed, clearly the two meant to grab him, and the fourth had naked steal in his hand, as he held a longsword in his grip. He was their failsafe.

“No, I don’t think you understand, I mean that my brother is gone, I just bested Ambrose Serrell in single combat. I will not just take your abuse this time.”

“Enough talk, get him.” The man with the club ordered and the two that were bare handed lunged at Vallin. Though bare handed Vallin could still see both wore short sword and axes on their belts, all the guards held at least two weapons. All them were supposed to be trained in more than one type of weapon too. Vallin was never good with an ax, so shorts words it was.

Vallin ducked under the grabbing arms of the first man, going in low he went right between his arms, sweeping the fellow’s legs as he past. It was unclear in that exchange how he had grabbed the man’s sword and drawn it from the left-handed cross draw position, but now Vallin had a sword.

All an outsider would have seen was four large men stumbling around the room trying to fight with the much smaller Vallin. They were all silent as they wanted no one to know they were there. That was until Vallin started killing them. It was methodical and soon there was only the last one who backed out of the room slowly long sword moving in front of him to defend himself. Once in the hallway he started to shout for help screaming that the king’s brother had gone insane. Vallin followed him out of the room. He had twin short swords now, one in each hand. Both were slick with blood to the hilts.

The mercenaries must have had more of their allies close by as guards came at a run. Emboldened by the sight of allies the last of the original four charged at Vallin and died quickly. A bloody melee in sued with Vallin single handedly cutting a swath through the guards. Until he found himself face to face with one of the young men who had been with Elisa that morning. The man held a sword but was hesitating to attack. That hesitation saved his life, rather than killing him Vallin paused. “Do you see me as your king?” he asked. The man hesitated before slowly nodding. “Then defend me.”

Spurred into action the guard went back-to-back with Vallin and between the two of them they held their own until the shouting brought knights of the king’s guard, Lord Thurston at the head of them.

“These men attacked me,” Vallin snapped. Thurston looked surprised, but he and his men quickly captured the last few mercenaries.

“I think there’s a story here young Valentine.” Thurston said.

“Yes, but there is no time. The guests are already arriving for the ball. Lock them in the dungeon, I will ask the queen to pass judgment on them in the morning.” Vallin knew that stopping the ball or letting this derail the day would cause even more problems.

“Curious,” Thurston muttered to himself and then headed to the queen’s chambers. Where the guards announced him to the queen

“Your majesty, lord Thurston is here to see you. He says it is quite urgent. He would not tell me what he wanted,” the door guard spoke to Elisa as he stood, his form blocking the view of the elder knight.