It had been long, the council session, long and arduous. Bar did not like to question his emperor, but it seemed to him that his nephew's mind -- no, it was a faithless thought, that. Merely, he would admit to himself that the emperor was more changeable, now, more difficult to please. The Roderick he had known as a boy had grown up a far cry from the man Bar might have anticipated -- but that was not Roderick's fault in achievement, merely Bar's fault in prescience, a thing he did not claim to have. Still, he could not deny that he felt weary down to his bones, after that last council meeting. The gloomy twilight of the castle did little to cheer him as he floated through the evening quiet of -- noontide.
It had been something of a relief to find himself alone in that quiet spot, in truth, basking in the warmth of the sun. In truth, he did not later know just how long he had stood there, letting his eyes fall shut as a kaleidoscope of daylight colors danced over the mosaics of the floor.
It was a strange country, this. He'd anticipated that, it was so -- no one who had known Riacan and his sister and his sons could doubt in their queer culture, but his impressions had been significantly softened in taking an Astairan wife, and raising half-Astairan children. Yet, still, many quirks of the nation had taken him quite by surprise. Yet, most distressingly -- not the least surprising aspect had been the impact the place had had on his nephew. It brings out his father in him, he thought with dread, running a hand across his brow. For some time, Bar had struggled to hold the various worlds encompassed by the empire together -- he did not think he could hold the emperor's world together, as well.
Hearing a sound at the door behind him, Bar turned. "My--My queen," he said softly. Eyes shifted as he remembered himself, and, accordingly, he bowed. "Your Grace. Forgive me, I was --" he turned back towards the window. "Lost in thought."
There was a strange formality with Marian which he tried to maintain. He'd called her by name, once, but now he was careful how he addressed her -- particularly when alone. She had made clear her feelings twice now. He meant to respect them. Besides, it was the only safety she and Arthur had, that she should never, under any circumstances, come under suspicion. He did not mean to be the one to jeopardize that -- though he did not mean to see his own son seated on his nephew's throne, either.
Bar glanced down as he processed her question, gaze finding the blazing azure of her eyes. He swallowed hard, gaze darted towards the doorway, ensuring they were alone.
His son had his secrets -- Bar knew that. He'd not feared them until late. Still, whatever they might be, he could not fault Eoin for his reaction, now. He'd put on a brave face, of course, said all the right things to all the right people -- but Bar could see dismay clearly etched into every line of his face. The joy was gone out of him.
"Eoin is prepared to do his duty, Your Grace," replied Bar, softly. His look conveyed the truth. He doubted Eoin's resignation would come as a shock to Marian. Eoin had always been a lad given much to his own inclinations -- and most generally away from court. Bar thought it best for his children -- and their needs and wishes had proven always his priority. He'd been given another chance at a family. He did not mean to fail them. He hardly knew Guinevere, save as his cousin. He did not look on the match as any great thing. "I've no doubt he will come to better admire Guinevere as he comes to know her better. She is a charming, exceptional young woman -- and Eoin has always had an eager, and a generous heart."
As she spoke of their happiness, Bar exhaled slowly, forming a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. He hoped against everything that she was right -- but he had not failed to note that there was something holding them both back -- something he did not dare to name. "Do you think so? I am glad to hear it." He looked quickly away from her. His jaw set. "Arrangements so rarely--" he broke off. Glanced towards her a moment, and quickly away. "They are both of them mindful of their duty," he said, instead. Marian did not need to hear of how full rare joy in a commanded union was. He hoped she had found it, since last she had intimated otherwise...He cleared his throat. "They both deserve happiness."
Despite himself, he couldn't entirely hold back the knowing, half-mischievous smile that glittered in his eyes as she spoke. Slowly, the Hand of the Emperor shook his head. The bent of her conversation in no way surprised him. Holding back a small chuckle at her characteristic behavior, he turned back towards the window a moment, watching the waves roll out towards sea, before turning towards her again.
"I've no greater wish, Your Grace, than for my children's happiness. So long as young Calainon remains worthy of her, and she enamored of him, I remain in expectation of a wedding, whenever it should please them to undertake it." His voice showed his goodwill, despite his unwillingness to contemplate breaking the betrothal. He knew well and good what it was that Marian preferred -- a match for his daughter with one of her own brothers. It did not escape him, either, that this was a viewpoint shared by her father, and Bar was far less inclined to please that man, than he was to please either Marian or his own daughter.
In truth, Bar was not best pleased by his future son, himself. Oh, Godfrey simpered and laughed and made merry with them all. On the surface, there was nothing there to dislike -- but there lurked a disquiet in the shadows all around him. He saw it in Tristan's eyes, hiding beneath his shadowy warmth as well, and it was in full display in Roderick's second queen. There was something sinister in the line of Calainon, he thought, something that whispered, sibilant, of ill intent. He could only pray that Amira's children took more after their father -- than their shameless mother -- and that her brother proved nothing like his sister, at all. But he was what Ciara wanted -- so, he was what Ciara would have.
"And I'd not hear of other arrangements." Bar arched a hard brow. Little fond as he was of Aurelian, he did not mean Marian's brothers. Roderick had begun to pair Ciara and Arthur more often than not. He'd not said as much, but Bar had been concerned about what the emperor intended there. The Hand had been quick to encourage other attachments, and simply glad to hear that another had landed. If it could be arranged before the emperor spoke, she might find safety. It seemed, she had.
Bar bowed his head, exhaled slowly. "I've heard it." Slowly, he turned to fully face Marian. The light slanted across his face for a moment, half-blinding him as he saw her. He shifted to catch some shade. The light seemed to hold her close. Aurelian was, of course, her father and -- of course -- she loved him. But he was not a man to be trusted. It was true that it had been Roderick to make the call in taking Marian for himself, but -- perhaps as much out of a wish to overlook his own relative's failings -- Bar could not help but see the treachery in Aurelian's own dealings in the matter. No, he was not a man to be trusted. Council meetings, he thought ruefully, stood on the precipice of becoming still worse.
Still, Albrecht was a decent sort, more Marian's creature, Bar thought, than their father's, and he knew how pleased the queen would be to see him.
"I am very happy for you, Your Grace," he said softly. "It has been far too long since you saw your family -- it is a hard thing, indeed, to be too long separated from those we love." He swallowed hard. His gaze fell away from her face a moment. He cleared his throat, resumed. "How do they seem to be settling in? I've not yet met with either of them, myself, though I'd been informed of their arrival."
Bar's lips quirked, despite himself. He suppressed a laugh, but couldn't entirely prevent the twang of familiar irony from entering his voice as his eyes danced in bemusement. "Yes, I've no doubt." Of course they wished to see him -- he was well aware they wanted much and more from him. Was it to be Albrecht, then, that they'd press towards Ciara, or Lucian? The former was, to her father's mind, a more suitable match than Severin, at least, though he was well aware that Aurelian seemed to favor that match -- unless he had finally settled upon Guin for his eldest son. Lucian might make a finer partner, even, though he was a still younger son. He was more like to have greater commonality with her Calleary relations, at the very least, and seemed to be impelled more by his own goals, than by familial zeal. "Is it only to be your father, Albrecht, and Lucian, for the time being?"
