Cormac Calleary

[forgottencormac]

Unsent Letter

Your Imperial Highnesses, Imperial Princes & Cousins, Arthur and Edmund,

It has come to my attention that your sister Her Imperial Highness the Imperial Princess Guinevere has been betrothed to your couin, Prince Eoin. Not wishing that any of my esteemed cousins should feel left out in this time of wedded bliss, I wished to offer the hands of any of my sisters as best pleases you.

I must recommend to you the best, the most beautiful, most graceful, most worthy, most kind, most radiant, most gracious, most warm, most astute, most amiable, most delightful, most perceptive, most charming, most extraordinary of my sisters -- and, indeed, of all women -- Aine of Calleary, of late, Lady Lorcan. There is no flower fairer, nor face more lovely, not a countenance more serene. There is no one whose companionship brings better solace or whose warmth, greater joy. The man who weds Aine will, indeed, be the luckiest of all men.

As you cannot both wed her, you may recall I have two other sisters, as well.

Your doting cousin,

ꉓꉻᖇᙏልር, Ꮭꉻᖇᕲ ꉓልᏝᏝᙓልᖇᖻ

[forgottencormac]

Unsent Letter

His Most August Lordship, MY LORD, CASSIMIR, LORD MALCONAIRE,

Ah, fair Cassimir, you will scarcely believe the intelligence I write to relate. Indeed, your soft lips shall part in a gape! You will be shocked as never you have been shocked before! Prepare yourself.

Now that -- given such a warning -- you are no doubt safely ensconced in a chair (would it were a throne befitting your magnificence!), I may relate my tale. It came to me by way of Lady Highsbury, who had it from Lord Xirnon, who heard it whispered by Lady Rysmouth who overheard Lord Beesley say that he had, himself, heard, as he was, himself -- I am informed -- standing at the foot of the imperial throne, when he heard Her Royal Majesty the Queen Amira say to His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, that she had heard it said -- from I know not what source -- that Her Imperial Highness the Imperial Princess Guinevere was not simply wearing purple and gold, as we saw, at her betrothal ceremony, but also, Cassimir, she was wearing green. Granted, it could not be seen, but Lord Beesley's intelligence, I am reliably informed, asserted that in her underskirt was included an embroidered scene of green woods! Allegedly some strange creatures, like wolves and foxes, or the like, were doing something or other -- I recall not. But to wear green trees...well...It is clear, is it not, towards whom her own thoughts and her own hopes bent, when it came to betrothal!

And think not that my good tidings end there! Oh, no! Lady Beesley told Lady Percelle and Lady Montrose, who told Lord Imnan, who told Lady Pavishelle, who told Lady Nymar who told Lord Ryman, who told Her Imperial Highness the Princess Cassandra, who told me that her husband, Lord Beesley, had also overheard Lord Grey calling the whole betrothal 'befuddling,' and that Lord Ruden told him that Lord Varmont's first remark when hearing of it was 'Surely not!' and that he'd overheard Lady Pushmi tell Lady Raskins that Princess Guinevere, herself, was heard to say beneath her breath by a passing servant, that it was all a mistake, as there was another!

I know how wide your eyes must be to read this! I know you had lost all hope! But we, yet, shall be brothers! When Finn weds Aoife, and you wed Guinevere, and I wed Cassandra -- we all shall be brothers! Despair not! Let that sweet head lie easy upon its lucky pillow, tonight. Let sweetest dreams whisk you away to that certain, bright future in which we all must delight! We all shall be brothers soon!

I shall apprise you at once should any other promising intelligence come my way!

Signed by the hand of him who loves you best in all the world, Your Dearest Friend,

ꉓꉻᖇᙏልር, Ꮭꉻᖇᕲ ꉓልᏝᏝᙓልᖇᖻ

[forgottencormac]

Unsent Letter

Fiona,

News of a most alarming nature has come to my attention. The most esteemed Lord Malconaire, himself, reports that mine own sister is now to be seen cavorting in the woods in -- and the god knows I shudder even to utter it! -- in a state of dress so appalling that Prince Arthur, himself, took you for a servant! The brash! Humiliating! Scandal! I am overcome. I tell you, you need not send for the good services of the physician but rather! The undertaker! This wounds me, Fiona! It wounds me to the core! To know that our cousin His Royal Highness the Prince Arthur said to Sir Tristan that -- god's thumb, Fiona! -- that he said: 'Do you think Lord Cormac, himself, designed this gown?' Fiona! You have disparaged my reputation in the greatest realm there is -- that of fashion. I was informed what you wore that day. That ill-begotten, vexing, plain as the days are long dress was not mustard nor butter nor even buttercup, Fiona! Not even buttercup! It was too disgracefully faded even to besmirch the name of yellow. An affront to all color! It was -- a terrible thought -- I shrink even from hurling so dread a word at one whom I must own as my own blood -- it was almost tan. I was shocked, Fiona, shocked to my core! Horrified! You must go to our cousin, at once. Before I die, you must assure him that this blunder was not of my making! Please! I beg you! It is too late to save my life, but my legacy and my spirit may yet be salvaged from this charnel pit of despair my life has come in the wake of so appalling an incident...

No longer shall you bear my name! No longer shall you stain it with faded color! Lord Boyle has communicated to me his willingness to negotiate on your behalf. I think I must commit us all to the alliance. You will have a shriveled husband for your crimes against beauty and goodness and worst of all -- against fashion. Look not to see me, again, Fiona! Whatever once lived between us now is severed, and I soon shall perish.

Enclosed you may find a watercolor of a dress for you of my own design. I would have you wear it at your wedding in memory of me.

Farewell!

Signed, your most august brother,

ꉓꉻᖇᙏልር, Ꮭꉻᖇᕲ ꉓልᏝᏝᙓልᖇᖻ

postscript: forgive me, if ever you see this, dear lady fiona, your lord brother insisted these words be taken down, every one. but he did not specify what might become of the letter, so i shall dispose of it, and he will not now long recall that ever this occurred. i pray this never reaches you... your servant... (unsigned)

[forgottenbrigit]

This is Where I Haunt You | Brigit & Cormac

Brigit did not remember deciding to come to Lorcan: she only remembered being on the road, the rain needling her face like thrown gravel and the wind tearing at her cloak as if it meant to strip it from her shoulders. Cassimir’s words rang in her ears: ... Cormac’s idea ... a sensible match ... Finn Calleary ...

She had made her peace, however thinly, with Eithne’s fate. She had swallowed that bitterness because Eithne had chosen it, because she had weighed the cost and said yes with open eyes. But Aoife? Aoife, whose fate was to be decided by her step-brother and another lord who had no claim upon her?

Brigit would never allow it.

She wanted nothing more than to throw all of her anger towards Cassimir, but even she knew better than that. Cassimir was reveling in his victory and would not give in so easily, but Cormac Calleary, she was certain, would. And as it seemed he was the one who had the audacity to even suggest the idea, it seemed only fitting that he would be the one to face her fury.

She would deal with Cassimir later.

Brigit rode straight through the gates of Lorcan without waiting to be announced, mud splattered up her skirts, hair half-fallen from its pins and plastered dark against her cheeks. A servant called after her; another reached as if to stop her, but Brigit did not slow. By the time she found Cormac, she was soaked through, boots leaving dark prints on polished stone, and her eyes bright with a temper that would have made even stronger men hesitate.

“What right do you think you have,” she demanded, voice cutting through the chamber before anyone could find their manners, “to decide the future of my sister?” Brigit did not bow. She did not wait for leave to speak. She stood before him like a storm, rainwater dripping from her sleeves to the floor. “You did not speak to Eithne. You did not speak to Aoife. You did not even think to ask whether she would consent. And yet you plan her life as if it meant nothing."

She laughed then, sharp and humorless, a sound that startled even her. “Finn Calleary,” she said, “Your brother may be charming, Lord Calleary, but charm does not make a cage any kinder. And Aoife is not yours to offer. I have just endured watching my eldest sister barter her own happiness for survival,” Brigit went on, “And I will not allow you to set the same trap for Aoife.” Her gaze locked onto his, unblinking. “You will dissolve this arrangement. Today. You will tell Finn it was a mistake, and you will tell Cassimir the same.”

For a moment she said nothing more. She realized, dimly, that she must look half-mad with her loose hair and torn cloak. Good, she thought, Let him be afraid.

“If Aoife is to marry,” Brigit finished, “it will be because she chose it, with full knowledge and a willing heart. Not because you decided it suited you.” She took a step closer, “This is not a request, Cormac Calleary. It is the last courtesy I will extend.”

[forgottencormac]

She had come. Already, Cormac was trembling, cringing away. In this light, the shadows cast eerie flickerings over her blood-spattered face (it was only mud and shadows from her mussed hair, but the redness of the torch gave it an evil appearance), her crimson eyes gleaming with half-demonic light.

"Cassimir," he whisper-screamed. His only hope...was that he would arrive...on time...

Only moments ago, before being plunged into this ruinous nightmare, Cormac Calleary had been cheerily half-singing a tune, uh dumm uh dee uh dum-dee-duh, bringing tears to his own eyes with a soaring beauty of the resonant words. He'd always fancied himself a musical man, he was congratulating himself, but a poet, too? Yet it was there, wasn't it, both in the flourishes of every sound, but also in the tonally-relevant song-sounds (as he dubbed them) which he had so cleverly crafted to sing. He felt triumphant, smirking to himself as he considered how jealous everyone would be -- only pausing to remind himself he must not practice any of this before Aoife until after the wedding day. She was content, for now, with his little brother but -- musician that she was -- he was certain she would throw herself at him were she to hear him now! After all, who could resist his siren song?

Such pleasant conjectures, however, were suspended when the doors opened and a servant -- Cillian, he thought perhaps he was, with his black mop of hair -- bowed in to announce a Lady of Malconaire (in truth, Cormac did not listen very carefully -- he never did when mere servants were speaking).

She heard! thought Cormac, his eyes growing wide in trepidation. Somehow, she heard, and she has come to insist that I, and not Finn, weds her after all!

He stalked towards the door with dread but, pausing, a brilliance came over him and, deftly, he undid his cravat, replacing the downy plumes he'd previously worn with something a touch less obviously appealing. I'll not torment the poor, dear girl any more than needs must...

When he darted into the room, however, to find the young woman barreling into the room before him, if was Brigit he saw -- and not Aoife. I have broken her heart, he thought. She's come to steal me away for herself! Trembling, a nervous half-laughing whine escaped him. Yet, when she spoke, he found his heart thawing. She was here to defend Cassimir! She had heard of his appalling behavior, and wished to remind him that Cassimir was Aoife's lord and master -- and no one else!

Oh, poor dear child! he thought, sympathetically, tears springing to his eyes. To love him so tenderly, even still, when he has chosen another! And her own sister, no less! It was a most touching display. He clasped his hand over his heart. She was yet too wounded even to speak his name, yet it was in every breath she drew, he realized, and his heart bled for her. Pressing his hand to his mouth, he began to weep.

Yet, her next words, sinister in sound, and seemingly less about Cassimir served to confuse and frighten him, once again. What on earth was she talking about? Cormac chewed his lip, a small whimper escaping him. "Guards!" he screamed, hoarsely. Not a soul arrived. (He screamed for them rather often...and rather often, of late, he had found -- they had failed him. It was due solely to his own blinding heroism, truly, that he had survived the past two harrowing fortnights of his life.)

She came closer. Squeaking his fright, Cormac backed up. Something slammed into him. I've been stabbed, he thought, screeching the louder. He turned; found he'd bumped into a chair. Athletically, he vaulted behind it, smugly placing the sturdy wooden obstruction between them. Cormac grasped its back tightly, knuckles turning white.

"My lady," he began, clearing his throat and beginning with a tremulous voice. "I do not have the pleasure of understanding you. I know it is common in women to come to hysterics, and I do not fault you for it, but please, do be seated. Have something to drink."

It was passing strange. Cormac had finally done something wonderful in arranging this splendid match -- and no one seemed delighted for him. He'd expected to have palms thrown at his feet, the peoples of Malconaire and Hanthom and Lorcan all coming together to bring him priceless treasures in thanksgiving -- so far, only Aoife had reacted the way he'd expected, over-awed into silence. But this? But, she was jealous, of course, he realized. She must have known she couldn't possibly sway either Cassimir or himself with her dubious temperament -- she must have set her cap, then, at the third. Relief washed over him at the revelation.

"You--you wish to wed Finn? My lady -- I did not know! Why did you not say so! But your sister," he hissed, cowering behind the chair, concerned that his next words might elicit another burst of hysterical rage. "How shall we prevent Lady Aoife from hurling herself from the highest tower she can reach? It was all I could do, I swear! Cassimir is already spoken for and I know she would have preferred me next, but -- oh, you mustn't tell a soul, my lady, it is yet a very great secret but -- so am I! She looked so crestfallen when I intimated this to her -- I knew something must be done! What was I to do? Finn is my only brother! Had I another, I should offer you him, but...Lord Boyle, I believe, is seeking a wife!" he cried, jubilantly. Finn had told him that Fiona would gut him with a fish-knife if he wed her to him, so why not pass him along to the next lady in need? "I believe he had taken rather a fancy to my sister, but...perhaps he might be persuaded to take you, instead? You never know! Perhaps you might be the one to provide him with the heir he so desperately seeks!"

[forgottencormac]

Save Me, My Prince! | Cormac & Garbhan

It was a terrible day. Cormac waved a lazy hand. "No, no, not that silk, you dullard!" Cake was good servant, no doubt, as such mean laborers went, but his knowledge of silks was sadly wanting. "Where did you grow up? It's almost as if you don't know dressing silk from upholstery silk," he laughed, for clearly that was too absurd a notion to be the genuine situation! "This is very clearly window dressing quality, not garment quality! Imagine, me, seen in this! I'd be a laughing stock. The emperor would be outraged! No, take it away."

Cormac had had a terribly trying day. Lord Malconaire was due for a visit in only two days' time, and yet he still had nothing new to wear! It was too great a travesty to consider that he might be suffered to be observed by the most exquisite man the god had ever crafted...in the same thing, twice!

His eyes ached with unshed tears, but he was bearing it very bravely, comforting himself with the certainty that someday a 100-foot statue would no doubt be erected of him, in this very spot, bearing a proud and forbearing mien in the face of such unthinkable trouble and anguish. Hundreds, no, thousands, would come here to seek him out, inspired by his heroic example, vast throngs sighing and weeping all around him, and hurling petals and bright-colored flowers at his marble (and fashionably shod) feet. Perhaps he would die of the shame, he mused, when Cassimir saw him so clad, collapsing dramatically into his arms, Cassimir's tears falling upon his face like rain...and so thinking, Cormac sighed romantically, gazing out the window. Perhaps Garbhan -- who loved him too well even to care if he wore the same thing twice! (that really was love!) -- would be the one to have the statue put up, and everyday Cassimir would ride by it, stopping to throw himself down upon the ground before it and weep--

He was interrupted from these beautifully melancholic thoughts by a disturbance in the hallway, a scuffling sound as if someone had tripped. But Cormac knew better. He could not be fooled! This, oh, this was far more sinister than that!

"I say," he whispered, eyes growing round as saucers. It was the Stafford ruffians who had escaped hanging! They had at last come to kill them all in their beds! Shrieking and, showing a truly astonishing greatness of mind given such trying circumstances, heroically shooting under the bed, Cormac lay there, spread-eagle and trembling. Yet, clever as his hiding place most assuredly was, he realized it would not do. There were too many trunks crammed full of exquisite fabrics beneath here, and he found that his legs were plainly visible! Now was the moment for heroism! Now was the moment for action! He must...run away.

The corridors were silent, now -- eerie, he thought, as he slithered out from under the bed on his belly like a serpent, given the extreme danger. Holding his breath so as not to make a sound, he clamped both his hands over his mouth, trying not to hear the low whining whimper that escaped him. His breath whistled. The ruse was up! He was finished! With a great shriek, Cormac rolled, side to side, like a barrel rumbling down hill, and pitching forward, tore out from under the bed and sprang into the hallway like a bat out of hell. He shrieked as he ran, fast as his legs would carry him, his arms fanning out behind him like a great billowing cape (despite the danger, he could not help thinking how dazzling he must look!). Every time he turned a corner, still screeching, he heard a cry of surprise. Clearly, the murderer was hot on his trail! With tears leaking from his eyes, he came to an open door and hurled himself through it, slamming it shut after him and barring it, barricading it with a nearby chair. Whimpering, Cormac clapped both his hands over his mouth, tears streaming down his face.

Hearing a sound behind him, Cormac screamed and rounded on the person behind him, seizing another chair...only to see Garbhan's familiar face emerging from the gloom.

"Oh!" cried Cormac. "I am saved!" Sobbing, he threw his arms around Garbhan. "I thought for sure we were, all of us, to be murdered in our beds! Only do not say a word! Hush, now, sweet prince! They're just behind me! Just through that horrid old creaky door! But, of course you came here, of course...you found a way...Oh! They're murdering everyone in sight! I believe...we may be the last two souls in all of Lorcan, left alive..."

Perhaps, he thought, sighing dramatically, The last in all the world...

[spiderdykes]

gif for frolicking and prancing and such

[forgottencormac]

Unsent Letter

ꃬᙓᖇ ᖇꉻᖻልᏝ ꃬᙓቿꍌꃬꂚᙓꇘꇘᙓ ꋖꃬᙓᙓ የᖇꌩꂚꉓᙓꇘꇘᙓ ꉓልꀎꇘልꀎꂚꂠᙓ,

Deeryst Cassyndra, Moost Deare offe Aull Laydies, Wysest of Womynn, aund Moste Discarnyng of Alle Roylle Personygess Whome thee Gaud Hass Seene Fitt to Yndow withe those Moost Supreemely Feminyne of Virchues ~~ dout not my ardoure nor your owen trusty fayrnes! Dout not the skys abauve nor thee sunne aund the moone in the vastnesse of their coarses. I feare the worlde woulde seame a blahk, a playce of darke forboading, werr you evuh to reed thee dyreh werds which i heare comit, O Most Unlikely of Women! To, with such Tenduh Hart, noe such terrble hart ayke! Yet, I caun finde noe respyte! Tho mah lauve fore yue is deap as the sease, you awe to muh thee beste ofe al whiche sistahly affaction can minde to the lykenesse of mindees. Think naut thaht I dow nout cherishe you! Nevah imahgin I showde abandone you to the blacke pyt of dispair whych an uttah lauck of lauve maut finde you, -- no! I Lauve You Stil, Cyssaundera! Baut I noe tou thaut youre paushawne for me is waysted, yes, WAYSTED, I saye! Thayre are cauntlauss authar diemynds of mahnhawd who wuld withaut hesitashon set you in theyr hevans aynd maeke you offerre of theire hartes withe gludnesse, but I feere I cahnaut bee wone amangst their numbah, naute in suche a waye! It wass wyth the greyst honnor imagynable that I auccepted yore hande as my betrothede, but I wysh naue to put you now asyde. I love you not, Cussandre. Ah, hau I hauve ached to saye the wordes! It is a crooltie, I know. But you waunt of me thingse which I cauld nevau gyve to you. It wil be a tryalle, I expect, were evar theese wordes to reache you in trooth. I feare you mighte be temptad to doo yourself a hearm, in truthe, and so I hoold backe, for I wauld naut jepyrdize the moste celestyal of pryncesses for aul the goald aund sylver undar the see, no! And I noe thaut to hauve firste laust the prauspect of one lauve onlie to see this wone so bitterlie caust asyde is to you the greyteste of evylls. For thaut I can onlie saye, lovelieste of alle the sunns whiche burne in the hiye horysons -- forgyve me!

Sygned, theh maun you louve, ~*~ꉓꉻᖇᙏልር, Ꮭꉻꀎᖇᕲ ꉓልᏝᏝᙓልᖇᖻ~*~

((*imagine the word cormac is harder to read -- and maybe looks a bit more like cillian if we wish ;D -- i couldn't find a version that ~quite suited -- also more flourishes in general))

[crowley-anthony]

Joey Batey as Jaskier | The Witcher 4.05 'The Joy Of Cooking'

[forgottengarbhan]

ooc | Garbhan & Cormac

the way cormac drives garbhan crazy!!! it's almost as bad as how much cormac drives rian crazy and it is only because he does such a good job at that, that garbhan hasn't somehow "accidentally" tied up cormac in his room/locked the door/misplaced the key

[forgottencormac]

kldsjflskdjfkajdjkf meanwhile cormac probs thinks that garbhan is obsessed w him lkdasjfjlkdjf like the guy just hangs around lorcan all the time!!!!! and like, yeah, he ~lives there and literally all his stuff is there, and its effectively the seat of his familial power atm, and his only living immediate family lives there too and he really has nowhere else to go, but like...is that the ~real reason he's staying???? he 'flirts' w eabha -- but she's the worst *obv* so that's def just an excuse to be near the callearies!!! and whoooo amongst the callearies is most interesting?????? like, is there even a contest????? also i like to think that cormac is the sort of guy who could walk in on garbhan and aisling fully making out and ~still not piece together that they're an ~item if garbhan said that he was just cleaning her face or smth (SCREAM) so i think its safe to say that he hasn't picked up on garbhan having ~any other~ romantic connections...plus, like, the dude went to alllllllll this trouble to come back to astaira like he literally got involved w a war...just so he could come here...to lorcan...and live side by side w cormac (nm that he didn't know that'd be the outcome ahead of time and that was thrust upon him by roderick NOR did he know that hanthom would be taken away and that cormac would then go to reside in lorcan -- that's that irrelevant information obv garbhan's just obsessed w him) like...you do the math alskdjfakljsdkjdf

and like don't get me wrong this is suuuuuuuuper flattering, garbhan!!!!! and, in another world, idk maybe they could make things work but...what is the light a candle (garbhan) to that of the burning sun (cassimir) i ask you?????? sorry man its just not gonna happen lakjsdfalkjsdkjfd

that being said, i ~do think this impression of garbhan's affection for himself ~does give him a v soft place in cormac's heart, so i think he does go to some trouble to like check in w him, spend time w him, and he ~likes being admired (plus like...he's not immune to the whole ~prince thing ngl alksjdfkljsdf) so i feel like it probs makes him act stupid which...is really quite the achievement when we're talking about ~cormac calleary~ himself lajksdklfjsdf

he probs ~is tryna cook up a proper marriage for garbahn (he needs a consolation prize!!!!! he knows how garbhan must WEEP w jealousy any time cassimir comes to call...) and now i gotta find a reeeeeeally crazy match for him <3333333 omg. varmont rules...if things don't work out despite the crazy electricity happening between alistair and aria (footage not found)...boy has cormac got the girl for youuuu!!!!!!! in the mean time he's on the hunt but i feel like some of the ladies he's tryna push him in rooms w to see if sparks fly include (formerly now she's engaged elsewhere...) @forgottenguinevere (garbhan's a prince right!! and then they could be brothers when cormac marries cassandra!), @forgottensonya or @forgottenbrigit or rosie (another AND THEN WE'D BE BROTHERS scenario when finn and aoife get hitched), or, best for last, drum roll pls... @forgottenvalentina alksdjfkljsdlfjklskdjf ik ik...all of these will work great! roderick would hang draw and quarter you for guin, sonya has no interest, brigit might murder you in the night, rosie's going through a maybe???? break up situation that stirs up a lot of trauma involving the war you helped w, and valentina is well...valentina!!!!! aria is ur literal cousin who hates you lkajsdfkljdsf good luck, have fun, and, most of all -- YOU'RE WELCOME!!!!!!! ;DDDDDDD

[forgottenfinnegan]

cormac 'hey! i was gonna eat that!'

The Calleary breakfast table was littered with half-eaten bread, cooled porridge, and the remains of what had once been a rather generous platter of bacon. Cormac strutted in late, dressed much too elaborately for morning and reached for the last slice of bacon on the plate. Before his fingers could close around it, Finn sprawled out quickly in his chair and, leaning forward, he snatched it.

"I was going to eat that!" Cormac cried.

Finn took an obnoxiously slow bite, chewing with deliberate relish. "Were you? Because it looked very much like you were going to lecture it on the latest fashions."

"I was not -- " Cormac began, hotly.

Before he could finish, Fiona appeared in the doorway, hair still slightly tousled from sleep. "What's all this then?" She asked, stepping in.

"Finn stole my bacon!" Cormac said at once, pointing an accusatory finger.

"Oh, no," Fiona said flatly, taking a seat beside Finn and pouring herself some tea. "A tragedy for the ages. Will the kingdom survive?"

"You mock, but it was the last piece," Cormac insisted.

Without breaking eye contact, Fiona reached over, plucked the slice of toast from Cormac's otherwise empty plate, and took a bite.

"Hey!"

"What? You clearly weren't eating it fast enough." Fiona replied with her mouth full.

Finn burst out laughing, nearly choking on the rest of the bacon.

"You too are insufferable." Cormac muttered. "I hope you know that now I'm going to starve. When I am dead, you shall both have that upon your conscious. I hope you are pleased with yourselves."

Finn raised his mug in salute, "Always am."

[forgottencormac]

Grown Ocean | Cormac & Edmund

"On your way to woo my future bride, eh?"

It was the usual opening salvo, and had Cormac laughing rather heartily as it usually did. He'd run into Edmund on horseback, both bound towards Malconaire, but while Edmund was likely on his way to visit with Lady Roisin, Cormac had a far loftier personage in his sights, her stepbrother, the mighty Lord Malconaire, himself, a thought which made his puff his chest out importantly. How significant, he thought with a flash of pride, to be a lord off to concer with another lord! Not merely an imperial prince off to whisper sweet nothings to his sweetheart, Cormac's mission was something important!

In truth, Cormac didn't even have anything in particular to say to Cassimir, he simply wished to bask in his inspiring presence, but this particular thought did not occur to him during these fulfilling reflections.

"Do be sure to tell the Lady Roisin that I shall call upon her and all of her sisters after I have finished up my bsusiness with Lord Malconaire. I know how reticent ladies are to seem as if they might wish to be in a gentleman's presence, so as duly not to seem too...presumptious, but I'm sure you'll find the right thing to say to her, eh?" he added with a wink as if they were old chums in on the same joke which was, indeed, what he believed the situation more or less to be.

"Have no fear, dear cousin, however, for I shall forgive them, whatever they might say. It is simply surety of their good breeding that they prove so reticent. Alas, only sweet Aine learned such niceties of my sisters, and I am determined that my own wife shall be more of her mold than that of my other sisters. Do you know, Lady Roisin told me just the other day that neither she nor any of her other sisters would ever marry me. I confess, I was nearly put off the idea by her force till I recalled this to me and, now, I confess, I see it only for what it is: noble humility which is, indeed, but an added attraction. I'm sure she says much the same to you, no?" Having said as much, Cormac positively beamed.

"Tell me, brother," he added, brightly. "How fares good Uncle Roderick?"

[forgottenedmund]

Had Cormac Calleary not been one of the most ridiculous men Edmund had ever encountered, he would have never remembered his name. His unfortunate connection to Edmund's cousin had placed him in his company far more frequently than Edmund, himself, could tolerate and his friendship (if that was the right word for it) with Cassimir Malconaire had only increased the regularity.

"What might a lady say to you who did not wish to accept your hand, Lord Calleary?" Edmund asked. "Following your own logic, I suppose if a lady is agreeable to your advances that she is only doing so to appear overeager -- and thus turn you towards more a more humble, and therefore, suitable partner?"

It would have angered him to come across any other rival so blatantly dismissive of his intended's feelings, had Cormac Calleary not proven himself to be one of the most ignorant and unintelligent men Edmund had ever come across. He might have found amusement in him, had he not proven to be so excessively frustrating.

And his determination to declare himself as part of the Varmont family was one such point.

"You are not my cousin," Edmund replied coldly. "Your relation is to my cousins only: not to me. You would do well to remember the distinction, Lord Calleary." It was his blood relation to Ciara and Eoin alone that had protected him and even that would eventually run out, if he continued to insist that he was part of the Varmont family.

[forgottencormac]

Edmund Varmont was perhaps the most puzzling person Cormac had ever met and, had he not spotted him so often with his nose set firmly in a book, he might have thought him quite stupid. He was always asking such inane and absurd questions! As if they were not related! Foolish young man, indeed! Had he never encountered a family tree? Were their names not always set down there, together, Varmont and Calleary, interconnected? Still, one must make allowances for youth and inexperience. Given Edmund's rank and close connection to himself, Cormac was sure this was only his awkward way of trying to prove amusing, and, thus, Cormac dismissed his charges that way.

Still, it took all of Cormac's wits to answer him in kind -- really, quite a show of Cormac's own mental accuity to overcome so ridiculous a question as Edmund posed! But, fortunately, Cormac, as ever, proved equal to the task.

"Ahh, no, do not distress yourself on that account. I do not vex myself about ladies unable to show proper humility. True, it shows a want of refinement, but there is something to be admired in the rustic charms of truth which can be quite disarming in a pretty face, don't you think? No, no, have no fear. I would never knowingly disregard any lady's wishes! Indeed, a lady eager to seek me out does show some strength of character and justice of feeling, I think." he paused, reflecting deeply as, suddenly, he realized the young prince no doubt also faced many admirers, himself! -- Though, doubtless, not quite so many as he, himself, nor, certainly, as Lord Malconaire! But, then, who could ever measure up to him?

Like as not, Cormac decided, the boy admired him, and was looking for some worldly advice.

"How do you face the ladies, eh? It is true your visage is not so unforgettably radiant as that of Lord Malconaire, himself, but you cut quite a dashing figure, and are a prince besides! You mustn't despair of failing to comprehend what they want from you. You sare so young! You'll learn, in time. Indeed, I'm sure many ladies fancy you, whatever they might say. It all comes down to your own preferences, you see. Do you prefer those who retire, or those who seek you out?"

At Edmund's speech regarding their relationship, Cormac frowned a moment, trying vainly to follow the lad's confusing logic. How could one say fist that one was not one's cousin, only to say later that one was cousin to one's cousins? It was incredibly obtuse, and Cormac was forced to reply with a confused laugh. Surely, it had all been nothing more than a jest which, in his eagerness to impress Cormac, the boy had sadly bungled. He'd learn in time.

Winking to show he was in on the joke, Cormac nodded. "Ahhh, yes, well put -- well put, indeed! We must tell all our cousins this!" And he laughed again. What a silly pair they were! Perhaps someday they could grow quite close, and Cormac could teach the lad something of how best to navigate social situations, he thought enthusiastically.

"Now, you must tell me -- what do you plan to wear to the coming ball? I'm all in a tizzy scheming my next sartorial choice, but oh! There are too many decisions to make! Oh! Here's a thought! Shall we plan our looks together? It would be such fun to appear as a matching set, wouldn't it?"

[forgottencormac]

OOC | Cormac's Top Hottest Men Currently in Astaira

as requested, the long anticipated ultimate hotness contest! sorry, finn, you're related and therefore cormac has never ranked you, so sorry you are not rated here (yes, the varmonts obv are relations as well but given varmont laws they're def distant enough he can and will notice), otherwise, come with me, boys

primary hotness factors include daddy issues and fashion choices lksdjfakjsdf

this list is subject to change and frankly ovn men have an unfair advantage bc of the way they dress bc fashion choices are HUGE in cormac's book but here to ~immediately belie that the hottest hottie to ever hot in cormac's book, a man allergic to what cormac would consider good fashion choices:

cassimir malconaire 10/10 no notes earthly perfection

cormac calleary a crazy close second!!! but a second notwithstanding

alaric varmont damnnn handsome where you going w that face

alistair grey could def do more w what he's got but still fun to look at

godfrey calainon if he were a little hotter he might look more like cassimir...

arthur varmont its sm fun when he wears outfits that show off his muscles do that more pls -- if he's not then edmund outranks him sorry cormac's gotta call it like he sees it...

edmund varmont we do love a brainy brunette in this house

eoin varmont pseudo prince is still princely!

roderick varmont would be hotter if he were less intimidating frankly

bartholomew varmont doing great things for cormac's daddy issues but sadly too old in his view -- he'd think differently of younger pics of him

tristan calainon that uniform doing the lord's work honey

cillian ormond he got a recent outfit upgrade and its been WORKING

sebastian varmont used to think he was way way hotter till valentina made some really sound points...now he's kinda scary but...still in a hot way

aleksander royce would be hotter if the religion thing weren't a bit of a turn off

rian stafford in a world where he could dress better he'd outrank godfrey, but alas here we are...

percy reaves personality and looks a+++ but sadly a filthy peasant so cormac says no thanks

cillian frost obv not as hot as cillian ormond ;D

kale brennan would def rank higher if he weren't a filthy peasant...and also wanted

ronan frost would def rank higher if he weren't a filthy peasant...and also wanted

ronan, alerted that he has been ranked the least hot man in astaira in cormac's book: thank the guardians

(i think that's everyone?????) subject to change smdh

[forgottencormac]

OOC | Matchmaking

ok so @phabblebabbles @laurenplayspeople @lizzysrps so, i kinda wanted to like...ask opinions bc *drum roll* i feel like our guy cormac is feeling suuuuuper cool abt how he just like had an idea (aoife and finn should be engaged) and then boom! it magically happened!!!!! sadjfkjsdfjksdf *facepalm* and he defffff thinks he should try it again! obv, i would loooooooove to create as much chaos as humanly possible w this, which also tracks bc we know cormac don't know the first thing abt either politics or heterosexual attraction dlskjfaklsjdf so he's gonna try his hand at what he thinks are true love matches and/or just super beneficial to everyone matches ;DDDDD but yeah my goal is to make plots/chaos for us all so if there's someone ur like 'omg throw my character into situations™ w this rando!' pls feel free to lmk MUAHAHAHAHA

so! canonically re cormac's imaginary pairings we've already got:

finn x aoife

alistair x aria

cormac x cassandra

annnnd since cormac don't notices peasants (ew) here's our list of eligible peeps to marry off (ppl who're uhhh not eligible are listed but struck out, ppl for whom he's already got plans are italicized, no peasants are [knowingly] included)! note: roderick is listed as eligible bc that guy can take as many brides as he likes ayyyy lsakdjfljskdfkjsdf

MALE

alistair grey

godfrey calainon

tristan calainon

cormac calleary

finn calleary

cassimir malconaire

cillian ormond

aleksander royce

rian stafford

bartholomew varmont

eoin varmont

roderick varmont

arthur varmont

sebastian varmont

edmund varmont

alaric varmont

FEMALE

eabha calleary

aine calleary lorcan

fiona calleary

eilionora ó réaltaí

aria ó réaltaí

eithne malconaire

brigit malconaire

aoife malconaire

roisin malconaire

valentina malconaire

sonya malconaire

ciara varmont

guinevere varmont

cassandra varmont

ill also make some suggestions lksdajfkjsdkfjsdf

AINE

so, first of all, he is in NO hurry to marry her off again, but eventually a woman ~must be wed!! so, when that comes to pass, cormac is deffffff looking to ensure aine 1) gets a good man and 2) will be near himself when she remarries, so i think he'd loooove for her to marry roderick, arthur, edmund, or sebastian alksdjflkjdsfjdsf since obv both as cousins and as cassandra is his future bride, they'll all be around together a lot obv! lakjsdfjlsdf honestly too he thinks she'd make a FABULOUS empress!!!!!! i think he had ~initially hoped she'd land THE greatest husband there ever was (cassimir!!!!!!) but since he's engaged now, yeah, i he'd love her to bag roderick or one of his heirs probs ideally lkajsdfkljdsjf

EABHA

ew gross terrible overbearing sister alert! cormac does ~not want eabha close, but he ~does want a cool dude on his side via a marriage connection but also doesn't want to saddle a friend w her bc YUCK so laksdjfkjldsfjsdf sooooo i feel like we're looking at aleksander royce or rian stafford (sorry man cormac loves rian but...he'd like the alliance so)

FIONA

another horrible sister!!!!! similar situation to the above, but i do think cormac thinks a 'strong' older man could 'fix' her (yikes) so she can be tempting to either of eabha's dudes, plus bartholomew varmont and alaric varmont as options...plus there's always lord boyle and the old man ball he could throw if she isn't agreeable to any of ~those options ;D @forgottenalaric that cormac actually pegged that there's a reality where alaric might consider one of his least favorite siblings!!!!!...and then picked the wrong one aljdsflkjdsfjdsf but also @forgottenfiona and i did discuss fiona potentially landing an engagement to lord boyle's eldest son whose heir to two lordships etc bc lord boyle assumed that's the lord boyle cormac meant so...that's possible too! BAHAHAHA she could ~also claim to be engaged to lord ormond if things got really bad, so there's ~that's option too hahaha

BRIGIT

brigit is legit the most terrifying woman cormac knows that he still wants good things for, so i think he thinks tristan calainon or cillian ormond (he's never seen him, but he hears he's hot) would be some sweet candidates! cillian: cormac, STOP trying to arrange my marriage! *hears its brigit* oh...ok...ill uhhh hear you out...

ROISIN

likes her!!!! he knows she likes intelligent brunettes (edmund) so obv she'd be down for aleksander royce! bc obv an astairan and the ovn pope are a match made in...somewhere! not to mention interchangable w edmund clearly aklsjdfkljsdf and rian stafford is another option who must just be shy and that's probs why he keeps aggressively saying NO whenever cormac suggests it lakjdsfkljdsf

SONYA

ok so this is the malconaire (besides the godlike cassimir, obv, ofc!!!!!!) that cormac frankly cares the ~most abt lakjsdfkljsdjf sorry everyone else lakjfkljdsfkjsdf anddddddd he thinks she and aine would make great sister-wives to roderick or one of his heirs!!!!! lajsdfkljsdf not that they ~have to marry the same dude, but just that...if one of them ~does marry a varmont it won't deter cormac from this thinking the other one can still marry that same dude, also, if the fancy strikes! alskdjfkldfjd so yeah any and all varmonts are strongly encouraged here bc obv roderick's suuuuuper pumped abt collecting cassimir malconaire himself as a family mmember!!!!!! i mean, who ~wouldn't be???? lkjsdaflkjsdkfj ;DDDDD that's probs the whole reason roderick came to astaira in the first place! aksjfklsjdfjksdf and why edmund did the battle of m -- he just couldn't contain his excitement to meet him, clearly, so he had to do ~whatever it would take to make that happen quick as possible!!! ;DDDD but yeah i ~do think he believes roderick x sonya esp is otp laksjdflksdjf it could be great! roderick could have a double wedding...except its just him...marrying two women at once SCREAM jskldfsdklfajsdljkf

[forgottenfinnegan]

Go Away | Finn & Cormac

Finn could tell by the sun outside his window that it had been up for hours, but he could also tell that it had not been up long enough yet for him to have gotten enough sleep. And yet he had been roused from his slumber by something and it wasn't until he peeked through his eyelids and focused on the figure standing in his doorway that he realized who it had been.

His eyesight was still half-blurry with sleep, but he could tell from the silhouette alone that it was his older brother. No one else would wear a long cape and a feathered hat just to walk about the castle.

"Go away!" Finn used whatever strength he had to toss a boot in his brother's direction, but it hardly made it to Cormac's feet. Finn was too tired to try to reach for the other one which had been scattered too far away from the bed. Instead he grabbed an extra pillow and put it over his head. "It's too early for whatever you've come here to say."

No doubt he'd insist on using ten words, too, where one would do.

[forgottencormac]

Letting out a little shriek as Finn lazily lobbed a shoe his way, Cormac darted for safety to the opposite side of the bed and, drawing himself up with full dignity, his rakishly angled hat nearly scraping the ceiling with its high-flung plumes, he conjured what he imagined was the benevolent smile of a lord towards his foolish but well-meaning younger brother. Instead, he looked rather as if he were focusing too hard on holding in a belch.

"Brother mine," he began, seeking to project a voice a similar to the expression he had in mind, but instead sounding as if he were faking a deeper voice than he had -- which was, in fact, the actual truth. "I wish to make an appearance today in the Great Hall below. It has occurred to me that our sisters are all of marriable age and we ought to seek out fitting suitors for them each -- though what poor fool will take your twin off our hands I cannot imagine!" he laughed. "Come. Advise me. That is," he added, pulling back Finn's sheets, before staggering back in an overly dramatic fashion at the scent of stale alcohol and, perhaps, a touch of vomit from last night's endeavors. He made an expression rather as if he'd swallowed a lemon and pressed his handkerchief to his nose and mouth, his final words coming out rather muffled: "An order."

Cormac retreated to the far corner of the room, letting his kerchief dip ever so slightly, and beginning to gesticulate with the hand clasping it as he spoke, giving the impression of a wounded bird attempting flight as he flapped it through the air. "We gentlemen must stick together, brother dear. Our women will object, of course. They are ladies and therefore are foolish. But we men of sense, mind you: we know better. I would have your advice in this matter. For instance," he added with a resolute attempt at suppressing the tremendous grin that threatened to consume his features at the thought. "I believe Lord Boyle will best do for our sweet Fiona."

Lord Boyle, it was said, was the oldest man in the realm. He'd had nine wives in his time, and managed to outlive them all. He was older than the late Commander Lorcan, and older still -- it was said -- than even his father had been. Blind in one eye, and mostly in the other, to speak to him was to shriek, and he drooled more often than he did not. He had no doubt been a great man, once, but he could walk no more than two steps at a time, now, and required aid even to eat. But Cormac had threatened to marry his youngest sister to an old man, and threatening in a very convincing way to go through with it greatly appealed to his sense of justice -- particularly after that feat she'd pulled of stuffing his room with live swans while he slept.

"But what about Eabha? One of these Varmont fellows might do for her, don't you think? Lord Grey, perhaps, or Lord Royce? I think taking up the one god would do her well, do you not?"

While Eabha's sins were less egregious than those of Fiona, she had managed to strike her brother's nerves as well, failing to know her place when she often commanded him to do or say something so forcefully he felt compelled to comply; or going behind his back to arrange matters, a thing she did with cavalier disrespect to his august office. Their father had always favored her, and he feared it had gone to her head when she had no bsusiness thinking at all: that much was plain. Better, he thought, to get her well away from Hanthom, from Calleary, and from himself, where she might at last learn her place.

He paused, then, however, his beam collapsing upon itself with his mind falling upon the matter of his favorite sister. "Our...our Aine, though...it may be...perhaps it is a trice hasty with her, hm? Perhaps...perhaps she might be spared..."

[forgottenfinnegan]

Finn groaned, dragging the pillow tighter around his head as if he might smother himself rather than listen another moment.

“Cormac,” came his muffled voice, thick with fatigue, “if you mean to auction off our sisters like prized horses, do us all a favor and let them at least trample you to death first. They’d do it gladly. Fiona especially.”

He shoved the pillow aside, squinting blearily at his brother’s strutting silhouette. “Boyle? Guardians help you! Fiona will gut you with a fish knife before she ever lets you ship her off to that collection of creaking bones.”

Finn sat up, scrubbing his face with both hands, “As for Eabha, good luck. She’ll have you married to Royce or Grey or whomever before you manage to wrangle her into that. And gods, forget trying to marry her to a Varmont." Finn had little idea at the moment that his sister was considering doing this very thing. Had he known her motives, he might have sympathized, but all he could think about now was how the Varmonts had been the ones to get them all into this mess in the first place (not to mention the fact that they had, quite literally, murdered their father). However, what Finn did know, was that Eabha would decide her own fate -- whatever that may be -- and she would not allow Cormac to decide (his title of Lord Calleary be damned!).

“As for Aine… I forbid you from even mentioning the subject to her." He was far from being asleep now. Cormac had taken it a bit too far when he mentioned their sister. Finn had little hope left that Padraig was still alive, but Aine certainly did and the last thing he wanted for his sister was for it to become clear that she might just be the only one who believed it.

"If you even suggest that to her, you will regret it, Cormac." He pointed a finger at his brother, "If Padraig is alive you will be a fool and cause heartbreak for your sister and if he is dead, I'm sure he would take great pleasure in haunting you for the rest of your days if you force his wife to marry ... "

He hoped that thought alone would convince Cormac from ever even considering the idea again.

He fell back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh. He closed his eyes again, smirking faintly. “So. If you’re quite finished ruining everyone’s lives, take your hat and your feathers and flap off. Or better yet: crawl into Boyle’s bed yourself, and leave the rest of us in peace.”

[forgottencormac]

Sniffing superciliously, Cormac daintily deposited himself in a chair by the bed, arching his brows. "Do not test my resolve, Finnegan," he said, breezily. "I know you only say such things because you hate to awake at a reasonable hour, but really! That is no way to talk to your lord brother!"

Pouting, he glanced away before, inspired by a sudden idea, Cormac gasped like a school girl and rose up with sudden alacrity. He went to Finn's wardrobe and began rifling through it with a bevy of sighs and hums of disgust and consternation.

"This is shameful, Finnegan! Most shameful! Who dresses like this? Really, I ought to dress you, myself, and burn everything in here! Oh! Oh! Oh, what is this?" he said in horror and then immediately after, with a cry of joy and in delgiht. "Oh! Oh! Oh, what is this?" Tossing Finn's most colorful array of clothing at him, heedless of where they landed, Cormac clapped his hands together with pleasure. "You must look your most handsome, today, dear brother." His expression grew crafty. "I've such a surprise for you!"

"Fiona will gut you with a fish knife before she ever lets you ship her off to that collection of creaking bones.”

Cormac shrieked then, evidently becoming suddenly aware of his lordly dignity, quickly brought the handkerchief to his mouth as if he could retroactively muffle the sound. "You mustn't say such things or give her ideas!" he wailed, beginning to sob. Tears leaked from his eyes. "She is such a terror to me, Finnegan, you cannot begin to comprehend the depth of my suffering! My torment is unending! She deserves a fine little scare, Finnegan, don't try to talk me out of this! You should help me! I've done something so very, very nice for you, too, Finnegan, you ought to be on my side! Besides, if she is going to be playing practical jokes, then why can't I? I'm her brother! It should be me!"

Cormac arched his brows, shrugging a bit as Finn pointed out that Eabha might wed him to two such dashing fellows as Grey or Royce, and sighed despite himself. "I doubt it," declared Cormac, smugly, leaning forward with the air of juicy gossip to share as his voice plunged to a whisper. "Grey is very much in love with Aria. Oh, yes, depend upon it, brother mine!" He nodded knowingly. "I think a winter wedding would suit them very well, don't you? Though, Grey could never wed a bastard, I suppose...And Eabha was never going to get a love match, was she? She has a such an off-putting, mannish character, alas," he sighed dramatically. "Why not wed her to a man in the throes of passion with her dearest friend's sister? He'll suit her just as well as anyone else would. It seems a fine match to me."

Despite bristling at Finn's tone, Cormac magnanimously decided to forgive his brother -- everyone knew that Finn was most decidedly not a morning person, after all. "I am pleased we are in agreement as regards Aine...A wife ought to mourn her husband and such," he said, waving a dismissive hand, less concerned about Padraig than about the excuse he offered. After three years missing, Cormac considered his erstwhile brother-in-law to be extremely dead. He couldn't possibly dream up a reason why any sensible man would choose to wander in the dirty woods and bogs elsewise. Lorcan, itself, was dreadful enough -- at least one could rely on a roof!

"If he is dead, I'm sure he would take great pleasure in haunting you for the rest of your days if you force his wife to marry..."

With a little scream, Cormac recoiled. He hissed a whisper. "You mustn't say such horrific things, Finnegan! You know the dead hear when you say their names aloud! Augh, how positively ghastly. Really, it is a good thing it didn't fall to you to secure your own wife. With a dreadful imagination such as that, you'd never have done us any credit, whatsoever! As like to drunkenly wed a servant, or something equally disgraceful, as not!" he laughed. "Really, what would Lord Malconaire say?" He tilted his head, tsking indulgently.

Gasping indignantly, Cormac shook his head. "You are in a foul mood this morning! And to think I have such news as will have you kissing my feet, presently! I really have been kinder to you than to myself, and this is the thanks I get?" Dramatically throwing the back of his hand up to his brow, he dropped down onto the chair, again, sniffling in an effort to suppress more tears. "Now I hardly feel like telling you! But I know you're just jealous of this extraordinarily handsome hat, and I can hardly blame you for that. Shall I let you wear it to the wedding?" he mused. "I did solemnly promise her to dress you as I would have dressed myself! Very well," he sighed, removing the hat and, with the solemnity of a coronation, laying it amongst the heap of Finn's other clothing with a dramatic self-sacrificial sigh, as if being parted forever from a favorite child.

"All right, Finnegan, sit up and put on your hat. I have two things to tell you, and soon you will thank me. I have been the very best of brothers to you, you know!"

Standing, his face a picture of beatific self-satisfaction, he beamed munificently down at his little sibling. "You are engaged!" he shrieked happily and produced from his pockets handfuls of petals, which he proceeded to toss at Finn as if confetti, but which -- having become pressed together from the ride in his pockets -- remained sad and wilted stuck-together bunches which pelted his brother like a few sad packets, instead. Cormac, however, was much too delighted to notice and, clapping and cheering, proceeded to jump up and down. "We have only the momentous and beautiful task -- nay, privilege! -- ahead of informing His Lordship, the most spectacular and cultured lord in all Astaira -- nay, in all the world! -- of the superb event, and all will be set! Ahhh, to boast such a connection!" It was happy tears which, this time, threatened his sight. "You may be wed almost at once, if you wish! And, indeed...sooner may prove better than later, given the lady's condition..."

Eagerly, Cormac seated himself on Cormac's bed. "You see, best of all, we come to the second point: you need not even bed her when you wed! I have taken care of everything myself!" He turned white, then, and suddenly green. "Oh, not...not that I..." he gagged, pounded his own chest with the flat of his hand, looking much the worse for the wear at the thought, alone. "I...Prince Sebastian has supplied you with your heir, not...not me, fortunately! Thank the god for that!" he tittered nervously. "Now, you there--!" he called, pushing his head out the door and hailing down a passing servant. "Bring breakfast! Bring champagne! Bring the tailor! It is time we celebrate! My brother is about to become a man!"

[forgottenaoife]

The Most Admirable Traits || Cormac + Aoife

Aoife stared at Cormac, wondering if he was finished with his speech. For some reason Aoife could not particularly understand, Cormac had decided to inform Cassimir of what he believed were Cassimir's most admirable qualities, possibly in alphabetical order though Aoife had not been paying particularly close attention.

It had been a long speech which was also quite surprising. Perhaps it had come from years of living alongside Cassimir, but she did not think there were enough to even made a two minute speech, let along going on five minutes.

Cormac had always been... unique, but this obsession with her step brother might be one of his most unique traits of all. Part of her felt sorry for Cormac-- she doubted Cassimir would pay him much attention when he had located to the new seat of House Calleary hundred of miles away. Cormac, however, didn't seem to notice that their friendship-- if it could even be called that-- was completely one sided.

"Oh... is that all of them?" Aoife asked before taking a sip of her tea. She realized she'd made it half way through taking a drink when she'd paused, not fascinated by Cormac's words but by just how many words he managed to say in such a short amount of time.

Not really wanting an answer, Aoife leaned forward and picked up the tea pot. "More tea, Lord Calleary?" she inquired, figuring he must be quite parched after such a soliloquy as the one he had just given.

[forgottencormac]

Cormac gasped so loudly, so sharply, he choked. Coughing and spluttering, then, he shook his head urgently -- even without the power of speech he must find a way to assure her that this was, indeed, very far from being the end of Cassimir's greatest qualities!

"Oh, my dear Lady Aoife," he managed, at last. "Surely you cannot think such a thing, you who have the great benefit of sharing a life and home with him! Every minute -- oh!" he clasped a hand to his heart, eyes pressing shut, as for a moment he pictured the sheer bliss which must be her existence, allowing every moment to simply bask in his magnificent presence.

Envy grumbled at the edges of his chest, as it struck him most forcefully that, being but a woman, she could not possibly appreciate such delicious pleasure quite the way he could and, oh, it was no fault of poor Aoife's, but sudden sadness came, too, crouching in his guts, for Cassimir, doomed not to be so appreciated as he ought in his own home, crowded as it was by women with not a single higher, masculine intellect to fully grasp the wonder of it!

Still, he tamped down on these emotions. The fact was, despite the high hopes he'd had of his future life with her, he must now surrender them -- and risk crushing her soul, having been now twice rejected by the two most desirable men in Astaira: Cassimir and himself. It was not, after all, in Cormac's power to go against the will of the most august Emperoro and, it seemed, he and his Queen had high hopes for the wedding of the Princess Cassandra...to himself.

Cormac felt guilty, as regarded Aoife. He'd led her on, after all! Oh, it'd not been of his own determining, he'd truly meant to make her an offer! But it seemed that, once again, she'd have to settle for a lesser contender. Though very dear to himself, Finn was certainly a far cry from Cormac, himself, with his own rather...nondescript attire and rather sodden aspect. Perhaps Cormac could sober him up before the wedding, however, (though he would recommend they both be a bit worse for drink to endure the actual wedding night!), and he'd be sure to make a most magnificent wedding present, but when one had such refined taste as the Lady Aoife, having first fancied Cassimir, and next himself, well, the blow could not help but be felt...Even Cormac was grieved. He had, after all, since learning her eldest sister was otherwise engaged, pictured a whole life with Aoife, as near a thing as he could manage, he supposed, to a life with her brother...

Leaning forward, with a look of profound pity writ upon his features, he rather dramatically -- he could not deny the power of such a moment! he did not wish to injure her, after all, though it now fell to him to do -- took both her hands in his own. His eyes stung with unshed tears. "Oh, my dear Lady Aoife -- I'm afraid, I'm afraid...oh! But I cannot say it!"

She was a gentle creature, and dear to him, and he found he was rather th choked. Perhaps there was a gentler way to begin than rejecting her directly...

"Lady Aoife," he began again, drawing himself up. "What--What do you make of my younger brother? He is...He is a dear fellow, is he not? And, as my brother, not so very unlike myself, perhaps...?"

[forgottenaoife]

Cormac, it seemed, had become even more... animated... since he'd become the heir of Calleary. He had always been exuberant but now there was a different sort of air about him... or perhaps it was just the hat he was wearing.

Not wanting to set him off on another tangent about her step brother, Aoife simply nodded, trying to look as serious as possible at what Cormac was saying.

"Is everything well, Lord Calleary?" Aoife asked as a strange look passed across his face. Hoping he was not able to continue his speech, she reached forward and held up the plate of biscuits that was seated in front of him. "

"Have you tried the cinnamon biscuits?" she asked quickly. When Cormac leaned forward and grabbed Aoife's hands, she herself leaned backwards slightly. Was he starting to cry? Aoife blinked a few times.

"You... cannot say... what?" she asked, gently trying to pull her hands away from his but his grip was vice like. "Take... take your time, Lord Calleary... whatever it is mustn't be that terrible."

When he sat back, Aoife managed to pull her hands away from him and sit back herself, hopefully out of his reach again. Aoife could only imagine what had Cormac so emotional-- possibly the thought of moving so far from Cassimir? She did not dare to ask, having had more than her fill of hearing about Cassimir for the day.

"Of... of Finn?" Aoife asked, raising her eyebrows at Cormac's question. Was thoughts of her brother what had caused Cormac to tear up suddenly? That didn't seem to make much sense, but a lot of what Cormac did made little sense.

"I've always been fond of your brother," Aoife informed him with a bit of a smile. Finn had never been quite as exuberant as Cormac, though Finn's apathy at times was a little disheartening.

[forgottencormac]

"Oh!" Tears still standing out in his eyes from his previous emotive state, Cormac's whole face transformed however into exuberance as she offered him a biscuit and, happily, plopped one into his mouth whole, his brows rising as a sign of his enthusiam. "What extraordinary powers has your cook!" he exclaimed when he had, at last, swallowed. "My lady, you simply must lay claim to her as part of your dowry and bring her with you when you wed! I insist!"

Clearing his throat a bit uncomfortably when his own words reminded him of the unpleasantness at hand, he fell silent for a moment and, to fill the silence as much as to comfort and fortify himself, he swallowed another.

"Well?" Tears crept back into his eyes and, Aoife having managed to extricate her hands from his own, he reached out once again to squeeze one. "My dear, dear girl, you must be brave." He swallowed hard. "Despite my own profound desire to wed you, it seems...It seems it is no longer in my power to make the offer I had conspired to make you this morning. The title of Lady Calleary has, it seems, already been claimed by Her Imperial Highess the Princess Cassandra, as Her Royal Majesty the Queen Marian, herself, told me of her wish that we should wed."

He did not pause, not wishing to give her too long to contemplate such a bitter blow to her hopes -- and not wishing to bear witness to her inevitable grief. Instead, he hurled her a life line as quickly as he might.

"But by no means, my dear, do I wish to leave you high and dry! No, indeed! It is for this reason that I...I am so very glad to hear that you do not find our Finnegan repugnant for, you see, if it proves agreeable to Lord Malconaire, and you are not too repulsed at the notion of his decidedly damp person so intimately connected with your own immaculate self, well--I mean to arrange a wedding betwixt the two of you!

"It is true that I have yet to mention this plan to a single other soul besides your dearest self, as I do not wish to raise any hopes should you find such a husband, understandably, disgusting to your sensibilities, or should you wish instead to enter holy orders at this juncture--"

What her despair must be at this present moment, having first been rejected by Cassimir and now by himself, whom he was utterly confident must have been her second choice, he could not begin to imagine! Yet, at least, he hoped he had managed to soften the blow. He would not be overly shocked to hear, after he left, that Ladies Brigit and Roisin, devoid of the hopes of even Finnegan as a consolation prize, had hurled themselves from the highest peaks of Malconaire, come tomorrow morning...(Indeed, when Cormac would later bear witness to Roisin's downcast aspect at Valentina's gala, he would feel not even a jot of surprise.)

"But I may assure you that, for all that he does not dress so well as I do, nor possess quite so many of the most admirable traits as does your own hallowed brother, well...He has the very best heart on earth, excepting that of dearest Aine, and is a very dear creature. You need not decide just now, but say you will think it over, darling Lady Aoife! And, pray, forgive me. Were the matter up to me, I should have asked you to be Lady Calleary this day, instead of my -- admittedly dear, though...not in that way, I do fear -- little Cousin Cassandra.

"And, though I do not know his own opinions on the match never yet having mentioned it, I have little doubt dear Finnegan must come very shortly, indeed, to adore you for all your own admirable traits! On that count, you must have no fears, Lady Aoife! You know, already, seeing as I myself preferred you, how profoundly capable you are of attaching a Calleary lord to yourself!"

He popped another biscuit into his mouth. His eyes grew wide, a brilliant scheme occurring to him. "And, as I said, you really must bring your cook with you! You will, of course, live with me for, no doubt, many years until my brother can find it in himself to form his own establishment...which may be never," he added with a laugh, thinking of his brother's sluggish demeanor.

He frowned, realizing this was hardly tantalizing talk and feared he stood now upon the threashold of seeing her tears, despite her heroic calm at his rejection. Quickly, he added, by way of explanation: "He is very devoted to me."

[forgottenaoife]

"Cormac," Aoife said seriously, reaching out across the table to grab both his hands in hers, all pretenses dropped. There was absolutely no world in which the Queen Marian would wish for Cormac to wed her only daughter, let alone the Emperor himself. Aoife knew Cormac, had known him all her life, and knew he often misinterpreted things. Rarely was it more than a funny tale the Finn or Fiona might tell her later, but this? This might cause him serious harm, should it reach the Emperor's ears.

"Tell me exactly what the Queen Marian said in regards to the Imperial Princess," Aoife asked of him. "Word for word, best you can remember. Cormac, did she actually say she wished for you and Princess Cassandra to wed? Those exact words? Please," she squeezed his hands, not meaning to let go until he had answered. "It is desperately important that you think very hard about this conversation."

It wasn't until Cormac started chattering about bringing her cook to Calleary that Aoife fulling processed what Cormac was on about-- he wished for her to marry Finn.

"Cormac-- Lord Calleary--" she tried to interrupt him but he was on a roll and until he finished, she said nothing. The thought swirled around her head-- would it be all that bad, marrying Finn? He was not particularly... motivated, but he was not unkind. He did not seem the sort who'd be interested in her hosting large parties or travelling to court... her life might be quiet, living up in the cold north at the old Calleary castle.

Her thoughts turned suddenly to Sebastian and his kind eyes, how his cheeks had flushed when she'd kissed his cheek, how he'd smiled when he'd found her hiding away from the crowd at her step mother's party... and how the rumors where now circulating that she'd been caught in a compromising position with him at the tournament. She didn't know more rumors were still to reach her ears in the upcoming days.

Aoife pushed those thoughts away, knowing she needed to focus on Cormac and trying to stop him from calling in a priest before the afternoon was through to wed her to Finn.

"Lord Calleary," Aoife began again when he seemed to have paused in his speechifying for a few moments. "I... it is very kind of you to think so highly of me and be so... so attentive to my future but, perhaps, this is all... premature, don't you think?" Aoife held out the plate of biscuits once again, hoping to entire Cormac once again into eating one so that she might continue on while his mouth was full.

"As you very well know, we are in the midst of preparing for my sister's wedding to... Cassimir," Aoife tried not to sigh at the unhappy thought. "And, perhaps, this is not the time for another engagement in my family to take place. You... we mustn't overshadow Cassimir's wedding day with my own-- or even your own!-- engagement announcement. I know you would not wish to do that to your dear... friend."

It might be enough, convincing Cormac that he would take away Cassimir's big day with his own announcement. Perhaps Cormac would not go about telling people he was going to wed the Imperial princess and Aoife would not suddenly become engaged to Finn Calleary.

"Perhaps after my sister's wedding we all might re-visit this conversation. Would you find that agreeable, Lord Calleary? I certainly believe my step brother would. "

[forgottencormac]

She took both his hands and, despite his natural and overwhelming emotional courage, Cormac sniffled at the gesture. She said his name. Her questions were urgent and he sighed, touched by her obviously great desire, still, to unite with himself. Was this not a pretty tableau? Two lovers, here, sundered by the ambitions of an emperor? Cormac had no doubt that, in future days, many heartbreaking lays would be written of this heart-rending moment and he sighed, gripped with the knowledge that he'd been meant, always, to be a romantic hero. Granted, had she been Cassimir rather than herself, well, that is where the real drama might have occurred, but short of that -- was this not the next best thing?

Mentally attempting to conjure the yearning expression he thought such a hero ought to wear in such a moment, he attempted to turn towards her what he considered to be the most striking angle of his face -- imaging them caught in a painter's imagination and, for centuries to come, fixed in a portrait that would haunt generations to come. Had it not been Cassandra, herself, who stood between them, Cormac could think of no one who would better appreciate the drama of the moment, and he half-wished to tell her of it, though he would not risk wounding her either, by making her believe the idea of their life together had caused him any pain. He sighed again.

"Dearest Aoife," he sighed. Her pain, he knew, must be extreme to go to such a desperate thought, and his heart wept for her. "It is no use! We cannot over-interpret our way out of this, much as we both might prefer such an outcome! My hand is no longer my own to bestow." There. That sounded fittingly poetic, he thought.

"But it is not so very bad, Aoife. We will not be parted, not entirely. You will be everyday at my side as Finnegan's wife, will you not? Next to Aine, you shall be my very favorite sister." This was not really saying that much, given how he felt about his other sisters, but it sounded really quite splendid, he thought, and thus duly fitting of the emotional drama of the moment! He wondered what Cassimir might make of this moment -- how the drama of watched Cormac in such a situation might effect his heart and, despite himself, he smiled softly. It was always comforting -- pleasing, even, to think of Cassimir moved by his own actions and woes...

"It is desperately important that you think very hard about this conversation."

As she requested word for word account, Cormac screwed up his face in memory. How had it gone? He tried to remember, but the whole thing was a blur. But it had been a request, Marian touching his arm, determined to engage him and...

"Aha! Yes! I perfectly recall the occasion!" he cried, rather delighted with his gift of immaculate recall. "The Queen took my hands, just as you have now, and looking deep into my eyes, she said, 'My lord cousin, how I do so wish you to be my own son. Indeed, next to only Lord Malconaire, himself, there is no greater lord in all my husband's domain. But with our dearest lord already sworn elsewhere, I know of no candidate better to wed my own darling daughter. Lord Calleary, I wish you to wed Princess Cassandra. I'm afraid I must insist. I must know that my dear girl shall be cared for as she must be when I am gone.'

"Naturally, I could hardly refuse so tender a request -- and from so loving a mother! -- and, though perhaps not in that way, I do dearly love the sweet princess. I mean to make good on my promise, and care for her as she ought to be cared for, to the end of her days!"

Surprise registered in Cormac's face as she spoke of delay, and he was on the verge of protesting -- he did not see why they could not be wed within the next few hours, if they so wished! It was true that the imperial fashion was for long betrothals, but that was not always the Astairan way, and Cormac wished for Aoife to have her consolation prize secured as quickly as porsible, lest she do herself a harm! Yet, his face gentled into tragic comprehension as she gave her reasons.

"Aoife," he said very gently. "Your instincts do you credit! You are too right. It would not be seemly to outdo Cassimir, and no doubt your sister will have need of you and your sisters as she prepares the occasion to befit one of such august standing as your own most gracious brother! How good of you, how self-sacrificing, yet how wise of you to put such lofty needs above your own. You are right, of course. That is, indeed, how it must be, particularly if you believe it is what dear Cassimir would prefer.

"But Finnegan shall be awaiting you when the time comes! He shall not so much as see another woman! Besides our sisters, of course. We will not announce it, as you say, but I shall myself hold him as sworn to your most esteemed self, and I solemnly swear that I shall dress him, myself, for your wedding day, that he might bring all that masculine splendor a bride should be proud to look upon on her wedding day! I will spare no expense or article in conceiving of the perfect wardrobe! Oh, Aoife," he added, growing rather enthused at the thought. "What is your favorite color? Oh! Perhaps I ought to stud the garment with precious stones -- what do you think?" He gasped, eyes widening with excitement. "Shall I have you a dress made, as well. Oh, stand up! I will take your measurements, myself!"

At that moment, however, something occurred to him. Her measurements were due, after all, to change over the next few months. "Though...not to be indelicate, my lady, but..." He put his finger to his lips. No man had ever been more polite in addressing so delicate a matter, he prided himself. "I speak no word of recrimination -- believe me my brother will be delighted he need not...well, his heir is already secured -- but...Is it not perhaps for the best that...even if a quiet affair, the marriage go ahead...sooner rather than...later? It should not reflect well upon Cassimir should word spread further, and his sisters grow...visible, and yet unwed! No, no, fear not my lady, I shall settle it all with your brother, forthwith!

"Just think, Aoife! You could be married as soon as today, if all goes well!" He paused, agitation growing in his eyes, tears beginning to stand out in them. All he wanted was a way to make them all happy, all at once! Why was it proving so difficult? He wrung his hands. "Do you truly believe it would discomfort Cassimir?"

[forgottencormac]

Sweet Sister | Cormac & Guinevere

"Oh, my dear sister!" cried Cormac, half floating into the room, arms raised high above his head as if he were holding something large and round and quite invisible over his head. "What a triumph you look this evening! How overjoyed you must feel at the prospecting of wedding sweet Eoin! Quite a handsome young man, is he not? I had little doubt he'd catch himself quite a beauty, but that he should turn your imperial head! You must both be so overjoyed!"

Cormac was mistaken on quite a few things. He was mistaken in believing himself related to Guinevere; he was mistaken in thinking her adulatory about her future nuptials; and he was equally mistaken about what he was about to say.

"Oh! But I have gotten ahead of myself. Ever since your dear half-mother, Marian, told me of my own betrothal to your dear sister, Cassandra, I have longed to eschew the title of cousin for that much more familiar one of sister. Will you not permit it? Why what could possibly be more pleasing to any of us than a union between our two great Houses, after all this time?"

He was right that there had been a Varmont/Calleary match in the past, but he did not rightly understand that it had been between Bartholomew and his wife, and therefore that Guin was of no blood relation to himself, whatsoever. And whatever a half-mother might be, Marian was most certainly not that to anyone.

Cormac was, as usual, wearing quite a concoction. Boasting endless tulle, festooned with embroidery, and sporting a cocaphony of clashing color and pattern, he was a sight to see at the Malconaire gala. This was, however, his way and, much as he might draw stares (all of which he interpretted as admiring or else envious) from those who did not know him, all those accustomed to him were perhaps a touch less shocked by his attire than they ought to be.

Yet, Cormac had managed to outdo even himself, tonight, with a most extravagant hat that rose, folding over itself in a wide array of shocking clolor, rose high to the point of appearing rather like dirty laundry mounted upon his head. It was also rather heavy and, whenever he dipped his head one way or another, he was rather in danger of his whole self collapsing that way, something that was troubling him even now as the hat tilted left and Cormac half-danced, his head tilting with it, trying not to tumble. At last he righted himself, the hat slouching now more right than left, and Cormac with a rather studied gesture, confident no one had observed how he'd nearly lost his balance, reached out to lean against the wall.

Suddenly, gasping loudly, both hands flew to his mouth as, overcome by his realization, he staggered back a pace, and then another as the hat leaned sharply back. "I was not to tell a soul!" Tears, a very usual element with Cormac, rushed to Lord Calleary's face, but he did not shed them. "Oh, but, Your Highness," he hissed. "I was not to say! Oh! It is such a secret, and I have no wish to steal your most illustrious thunder! Princess! Oh! I AM A WORM!" he wailed, seizing hold of her arm. "Pray, pray tell no one what has passed here! Pray tell no one! But, now you know, oh my dear sister, say you will give us your blessing! I know I am equal to anything, should you be with us!"

[forgottencormac]

Proposals | Cormac & Sebastian

"Oh, pity me!" cried Cormac, riding towards Sebastian as soon as he saw him on the road. "I have lately had the most grievous duty, cousin!" Cormac was weeping which, in another person might have been alarming, but in him, even accompanied by such histrionics, was nearly a daily occurrence. Still, approaching Sebastian, he reached out and seized the prince's reins, tugging his horse to a stop that Sebastian might stop and console him.

"The God knows," he wailed. "I have broken my own heart and, in so doing, that of near the fairest maiden in all Astaira!" He pressed his hand to his chest, hiccuping out breaths before managing to check himself. "Shall I tell you it? Oh, but you shall no doubt know, presently -- I only pray the lady do herself no harm! But I think I have managed to distract her for the moment."

Cormac paused, wishing for Sebastian to eagerly beg of him what tidings he bore, but Sebastian looked more surprised than intrigued. Bravely, Cormac pressed on. "I believe I had told you that I meant, this week, to make my proposals to the Lady Aoife!"

He paused, again. Finally, Sebastian, he thought, looked rather more absorbed in Cormac's news. "But, with your most majestic mother's most...gracious tidings -- if you have not yet heard them, you soon will -- I was obliged to cancel these plans."

Cormac thought he really had Sebastian's full attention, now. He did rather enjoy telling a dolorous tale to a riveted audience! And Sebastian had a decidedly pleasant face -- not so breathtaking as Cassimir's mind, but then, whose was? -- which made speaking with him all the more easy and enjoyable.

"Oh, but my dear cousin, this is where the pain begins! That sweet girl! I feel now I have led her on terribly, though I assure you my intentions were most sincere and honorable! Instead of making her the offer as I had intended, I was instead forced to break her heart. Oh, I feel I shall swoon!"

The back of his hand shot up to his forehead and, for a moment, he swayed precariously in his saddle, but soon re-composed himself, grasping Sebastian's arm for support.

"Sweet prince--" fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "You should have seen her! She was so brave in the face of it, my whole heart went out to her! It was too painful to watch her try to rationalize the event afterwards. She began to ask a whole host of nonsensical questions -- you know how women are -- but it was more than obvious it was only a way of distracting herself from the pain of it, trying to...trying to understand why I had tossed her dear heart away so." He bit his lip, entirely sincere in what he said next. "I would have given anything not to hurt her, cousin. You know that, don't you?"

Pausing, he let Sebastian go, clearing his throat as he righted himself in the saddle. "But the tidings are not all ill and, I fancy, I have saved her from a pain too crushing and bleak with my quck thinking." Despite his tears, his smile turned beatific. "Saved her, most like! Shall I tell you of my cleverness? You will be most overjoyed and, I wager, impressed to hear the news, my friend! I have betrothed her, instead, to my brother!" He beamed.

It was more the case in reality, perhaps, that Cormac had offered his brother than that they were as yet betrothed, but in Cormac's mind, the matter was settled entirely. Having tragically lost her chance at both Cormac and -- worse -- Cassimir, he could not imagine that she might risk losing her chance at the next best thing: Cormac's brother.

"Oh, congratulate me, cousin! I could not have been any cleverer, could I? No. The alliance with Cassimir is saved; Aoife is safe; Finn shall have the third most desirable Astairan bride there is! And I know...I know her dowry is not...not so very vast, and Cassimir or the Lady Valentina shall likely ask a bride price, as I believe that's how things are done in the Riverbend, and Finn cannot pay because he has no money of his own, but I shall make the payment thereof my wedding gift to them! Is it not clever? Is it not all so charmingly arranged? Truly," he added, a touch self-importantly. "Éabha could not have done better, for all father's training!" His laugh was bright, and he clapped delightedly.

"Now, you mustn't go spoiling the surprise!" He tapped his nose. "Keep it to yourself, my good man. Lady Aoife of course knows, but no one else! I'm on my way to tell Finn the glad tidings, even now! Is it not the most thrilling--?"

Grinning, he clapped his hand to his chest. "Oh, say at once how wonderful it is. I cannot possibly dream of a more delightful sister!" He said this as if he did not already have quite a few. He frowned suddenly, remembering this, cleared his throat. "Save my dearest Aine, of course." He did not mention either of his other sisters.

"Oh, congratulate me at once! I feel quite on top of the world! Have you ever saved a life, my prince? It is a most...I cannot tell you what a feeling it is! And the lady could not possibly be more deserving!" He frowned, thinking then of poor Brigit and Roisin and the peril into which their own lives must now, per force, be thrown, having been passed over without a single word by both Cassimir and Cormac. Alas! He prayed they chose merely to take the veil, and not their lives...Hastily, Cormac squeezed his eyes shut and offered up a little prayer for the repose of their souls, just in case. He decided it was only right that he help pay for their burials, should it come to that. Gone too soon! Tears rushed into his eyes again and, for a moment, he wept but, remembering Sebastian was there, he bravely managed a smile, his excitement overcoming his grief as he recalled the glad tidings he had just shared.

"But, now, I am so glad to have met with you here on the road where we may speak in all discretion. Please understand that I--" Cormac paused, attempting to be delicate as could be, the matter of Aoife's pregnancy occurring to him. "Please understand, my cousin, I am...well aware of the lady's...condition and have no bone to pick with anyone upon the matter. My brother, too, shall, I am sure, prove most delighted that he need not...endeavor, himself." He winked. This, he thought, was the height of delicacy.

"Indeed, I pray that you shall feel most comfortable at Lorcan when the lady moves thence to take up her new abode, and once again in Calleary when we move there. Further, my dear prince, I hope that you shall be most involved in the upbringing of your soon-to-be littlest cousin! There! What do you say to that?"