Tristan Calainon

[forgotteneithne]

Unsent Letter

It is so unfair, so very unfair of me to say such things knowing that my fate will not change. It cannot change, not if I wish for Malconaire to return to what it once was, for the people my family has cared for to be safe and happy once again... but I fear if I do not say them, do not put pen to paper and write these words, i might go mad.

I love you. I do not know when it happened, as odd as it may seem, but I realize that I love you. When I think of how I wish my life might be, who might be standing by my side years and years from now in the halls of my family home... it is your eyes I see looking back at me. Its your hand holding mine.

Even as a young, silly girl imagining what it might be like to one day be married and have a family of my own, I never could envision who might one day be my partner in the task that is caring for Malconaire. In fact, I always imagined myself alone and part of me, I think, had become resigned to it-- I might marry and have a family, of course, but I would not have a partner in this task. I did not think there was anyone I could marry who understood Malconaire, appreciated it as I do.

But I can see it in your eyes when we've walked through the woods that you understand this place-- not just the beauty or the tranquility or any of the things people always comment upon when visiting my home for the first time but more than that... how there is a life to this place that has to cared for in a way beyond just the safety of citizens or the repairs of roads or the construction of new buildings. I do not know if I could ever find the words to adequately describe it, nor do I know if those words even exist. Honestly I do not know what it is the tells me you understand what I am referring to when I speak of my home, but I feel that you do. You would have been a fine Lord of this place, had the universe not had different fates in store for us both.

I know the day of my wedding fast approaches and once I am another man's wife, we can no longer be as we once were. I will miss you, you quiet voice, your gentle smile, your calming presence. You gave me strength to survive these terrible weeks and I wish I could repay you in some way. Instead I know it is best we part as friends and nothing more.

You will always have friends at Malconaire, should you ever need to call upon us. And, even knowing we could never be more than just friends, know, too, that you will always have my love. Yours,

[pedroam-bang]

Kingdom Of Heaven (2005)

[forgottentristan]

OOC | Tristan & Aine

ok so honestly idk how well tristan knows aine, but i feel like he may occasionally, as kingsguard, accompany alaric to lorcan, so they probs see e/o there and i do think his impressions are probs generally v positive! and honestly he feels awful for her!! i mean, forced to live in this place where she doubtless sees her husband's shadow around every corner, yet not even allowed to be its ruling lady as she once was, and being a single mom to her kids while navigating all of this like????? god that's awful being real there's not much he can do to help her in any way but he def at least wishes he could!!!!!!

[forgottenaine]

I feel like Aine would really like Tristan, too!!! Unlike some of my other peeps, she's not about to hold his relationship to the Varmont fam against him! Even if he is in Roderick's kingsguard, she knows he is there for his own family, too, and she can't count that against him.

I also feel like she would see that he is a very genuine person and that he's v decent/honorable/reasonable and might even be someone who would help Astairans if it was in his power to do so! Basically, I think that she can see the goodness in him and can see that he's not built from the same mold as Roderick is!!

Anyway, I can definitely see them becoming friends!!!! I'm sure, whenever he is there, he always treats everyone well and with kindess and respect -- which Aine appreciates b/c that's not always the case when Roderick's men come around!

I can also she where she ~might pick up on his feelings for Eithne?? That is, if she's ever seen them together?? I feel like Aine can be pretty intuitive about that kind of thing, especially amongst her friends and even if she's not certain of it, I can see where she might ~suspect? Not that she'd do anything about it -- Eithne, for better or worse, is soon to be a married woman, but she would feel a lot of sympathy for Tristan and his position!

[forgottentristan]

awwww, i love them becomign friends!!!!! he could def use some lakjdskfljsdjf and i ~do think the more he sees of astaira/astairans, the more impressed he is!!!!! and aine is deffff a great example of that!!!!!

honestly i think aine, herself, impresses him a lot, honestly, esp given her position and yet how much she really is still able to do despite it all and what a great mom and leader she remains even when barred in v tangible ways from being able to be either of those things the way she wants!!!! tbqh i don't think there's much tristan ~can do for her, but i def think if he ever thought there were, he'd def try his darndest!!! esp w them having had two, almost i think three, years of navigating all these scenarios together, they may even know eo fairly well atp?

also kind of love her picking up on his feelings re eithne!!! i don't think anyone else really has (he def keeps it under lock and key!!!) but yeah even if tristan doesn't know she knows, i still think its nice there's someone out there who cares abt them both presumably tryna make things a lil easier on them both re all that (i mean not that eithne is necessarily in love w him like he is w her or anything but still...its obv a loaded situation first re arthur and now re cassimir and yeah lakjsdfkjlsdf)

[forgottentristan]

OOC | Tristan & Percy

so i def think tristan likes percy!! i do think, tho, that tristan was probs the one who had to ~check out~ all the astairans who remained in roderick's service, so tristan is def the guy whose ultimately responsible for having a mole inside the castle so i feel like there's a potential storm coming for these two, depending how things go! lkajsdfkjsdjf

but yeah i do think, w the riots etc, roderick is having tristan tighten up security a lot~ and he deffff had him bring in EVERY astairan in the castle for questioning so ~that was probs a fun bonding experience for them both!!! lkajsdkfljsdf honestly if roderick had his way, they probs would've all been put in prison, but i feel like arthur was against that and both he and tristan vouched for them and yeahhh lkajsdfkjdfs

[forgottenpercy]

Okay, but that makes a ton of sense -- because if it had been anyone else, most of the Astarians (if any?!?) might not actually have their jobs anymore just due to general bias, but I feel like Tristan is like the most fair and just person to be in charge of this??? Like, he def seems the kind of person who would want people to be able to keep their jobs and would only not sign off on this if he thought they would actually be a threat!?

But yeah whoops that being said, he let a literal traitor in and one who is working for the resistance, at that! (don't worry, tristan, we all have those embarrassing work stories when we make mistakes! :D)

Obviously, Percy is not a fan of the Varmont fam (including the extended members) and to boot, he's kind of terrified of Amira?!?! I think he is a little intimidated/mistrustful of Godfrey, too, probs?? Tristan is def the most likeable of the Calainons, but I think that, knowing the rest of his family, that almost makes him ~the most dangerous of all~ in Percy's eyes???

I feel like he might know, however, some of the things that Tristan has done for them all, like advocate for them to keep their jobs and then later, keeping them out of prison, so I can see where he might be warming up to him a little bit more, but he's not exactly trusting of him yet either?

[forgottentristan]

yesssssss, absolutely agree! tristan def wants to try to be as fair and just to ~everyone as possible, and he is in a pr unique position for understand both ovn-ians ~and everyone else as someone who grew up as a ~foreigner ~in the xenophobic imperial court so like!! he ~will advocate for ppl from other places and try to see justice done there bc he feels its the right thing to do and he already knows that it kinda ~has to fall to him since pr much everyone else in charge is trained from birth to think v differently on the subject but ~he knows how it feels and that you ~can be born elsewhere and yet ~still be loyal and good at ur job! and you should get to keep that job and support urself and ur family and not be turned away from those opportunities by circumstances outside ur control, etc!! lakjdsfkjsdjf

embarrassing work stories BAHAHAHAHA lkajsdfkjsdjfdf yeah im guessing???? that tristan doesn't know that percy lost a brother fighting against roderick bc that is a giant red flag re troublemaking on lotsa levels so i ~do think he'd def check that out a lot more if he knew abt it but i bet a lot of documentation was accidentally (or in many cases mayhaps "accidentally") destroyed when roderick went through and burned all those books when the gates were opened...this is why you don't burn books, roderick!!!! lkajsdklfjljsdf

i mean...being terrified of amira is ~extremely fair and frankly probs kinda sensible of him lakjsdfjdskjf after roderick she ~may have the highest kill count in terms of the number of lives ur morally responsible for ending in the entire castle soooo lkajsdkfjksjdf but yeah i kinda gotta laugh bc w tristan sometimes i think it almost looks ~more sus by contrast to his siblings bc there's ~clearly smth deeply wrong w amira, godfrey's giving not so great vibes himself, and then there's tristan and its like???? what's going on there???? who is this guy??? what happened??? he ~gotta be hiding smth right bc???? look at his siblings??? lskjafklsjdfjksdf but hahahaha yeah id say easily the most likeable of his siblings!!!!!!! not that that's the ~highest bar there lkajsdfkjsdf unless godfrey's ~tryna charm you ig potentially? but even that is a diff kinda charm like...dlskajfksljdfjdf likeability vs charm debates ig but anyway laskjdflkjsdf point is!!!!! this makes hella sense alksdjfkljsdfkj

oh yeah no that makes toooootal sense!!! like esp w him being like 'tristan's probs the worst one of the lot' like...him ~helping might almost feel ~more sus lkajsdflkjsdjkf what's he up to lkajdsfkljdsjf tristan: 'im just trying to do the right thing' amira and godfrey in unison: 'gross' laksjdfkljsdfkjlksjdf but yeah! i doubt he knows how [ tristan tried to save lives at the pyre walk ] (you can skip literally the firstly fully ~10 paragraphs of that if you wanna get straight to the pyre walk stuff lkajsdklfjsjdf), since that was all kinda covered up? tho ig he ~may if godfrey told ciara (which he might bc it showcases to astaira how the calainons were always out to help astaira/witches and in fact got punished for it) and ciara told them??? but yeah also def equally its v possible they don't know abt it??? but what they probs ~do know, bc its just a matter of public record, is that he participated in the pyre walk so that! is fun!!! lkajsdfjkdsf but yeah, point is, i think percy being pr leery of him defff makes sense and, all things considered, is probs smart!! it happens to not be necessary in this case but like...all signs seem to point the other way lakjsdfkljsdfkj

for his part, tristan def doesn't think percy's a rebel or else he defff would have arrested him lakjsdfkjsdfj but yeah he probs just sees a hardworking lonely young man struggling and just kinda wants to help him and this was a way he could! and he's def kind to him when he sees him but i doubt there's a ton? of interaction? probs more than some bc he probs does have to check in on the condition of the imperial horses and saddles and such for the imperial family for ~security reasons~ before they go on a ride or whatever but yeah its probs mostly pr business like i would think lkajsdfkjsdf and tristan probs largely ~does view it as primarily a formality frankly lajsdfkjsdkjf that awk moment when tristan, who ~is trustable, isn't being trusted, but percy who in this circumstance actually ~isn't, ~is being trusted...alsdkjfklsdjfkjdf honestly love it <3333333

also gotta laugh bc if amira's attempted recruitmen of percy ever gets back to tristan he's probs like 'my condolences man' lajksdflkjdsf he loves his siter but she is uhhhh a loT he fully recognizes lakjsdfkljsdjkf

[forgottentristan]

Sacrifice | Tristan & Eithne

The air tasted differently here in the woods, he'd swear it. Caught high up amidst the wind-swept peaks of Stafford, there he took in the crash of waves, the babbling flow of sweet streams, but here: here was tilled earth and volunteering mushrooms; leaves that, golden at the crest of autumn, wafted lazily to the ground. The air was crisp and salty there; here it was musky and warm, and Tristan found...He found rather liked it.

There had been little enough of warmth in Kolchis, saving the great Flame which roared at the center of the temple, its marble columns turning everyday to green as lichen bit away at them. That and the near-dead tree, whose mostly bare branches raked the sky like gnarled fingers, and whose few unsweapt gold-and-crimson leaves laid down a bed upon the cool marble at this very time of year: those were the only traces of warmth in the stone city where he had begun his life. But Astaira -- all of Astaira -- was entirely different. All was an embrace, but no place, he found: no place was that so very true as it was here in Malconaire.

Above him, a throng of bright-colored birds twittered merrily amongst the green canopy that arced cheerfully across the road, while squirrels skittered from branch to branch, each chirping one to the other as he passed by far below. Yes, the woods were teaming with life, even where they were their thinnest, at the borders of Malconaire. The deeper when drove into the forest, the thicker it grew, till he had heard some Astairan folk tell that the Old Forest at the center of the woods, was indeed the heart of all the world, but what, precisely, that meant, Tristan could only guess. No doubt, he thought with a kind of wry consider, flexing his shoulders as he rode, Godfrey would know. But Tristan did not care to ask.

The castle itself rose graceful, half-sprouting itself from the very earth around it, its stone a fine complement to the great tree that arced elegantly amongst its battlements and through its high rooves. The entry, itself, was at once a humble and an elegant portal: a simple yet broad doubledoor, flanked by two trees seemingly grown amongst its very stones, and crowned with a crescent clerestory window.

Today, these great doors were, he found, flung wide, the Lady Valentina standing just ouside of them, apparently scolding the servant, Cillian, whose expression did not flag in its cheek for all the lady's redresses. Yet, Tristan watched both expressions change at his approach, Valentina's turning from sour to smiles, and Cillian's the opposite way. Dismounting, Tristan smirked to himself as he faced his horse, but managed only to show general friendliness as he turned once more to face them.

"Cillian, take Sir Tristan's horse."

The servant said nothing, only seizing up the reins and treating Tristan to a rather hard stare, a thing Tristan greeted only with thanks.

"Sir Tristan," began Lady Valentina, voice rather pointedly cheerful. "I don't suppose your delightful nephew, His Imperial Highness, Prince Edmund, is behind you. It has, I think, been some days since we've had the pleasure of his company, and we do so long to see him again. All my young ladies, you know, spend all their time sighing their hearts away in his absence, now that dear Prince Arthur has quite abandoned us, don't you know?"

Tristan shook his head. "I'm sure, my lady, His Imperial Highness will return in time."

Valentina's eyes lit. "Oh? Prince Arthur?" she exclaimed, eyes brightening into delight.

Tristan cleared his throat, the oft-played chorus of Jeanie Morrison rattling in his head. "That--that I cannot say."

"Ah," Valentina smiled valiantly through her obvious disappointment, and Tristan was seized with the irrepressible suspicion that his own nephew was more a consolation prize, just now, to Valentina's way of thinking. "Well," she said, entwining her arm with Tristan's. "I daresay our dear Prince Edmund will prove more gallant than his elder brother, and shall not long disappoint us, hm? Between you and I, you know, Sir Tristan, I must say I've always preferred his company."

Tristan just managed to turn his laugh into a cough.

"Something in the...in the light of his eyes, you know. That's integrity."

Tristan arched his brows. "A look? That's integrity, my lady?"

Valentina tittered. "Oh, dear me, Sir Tristan, you must pardon a simple lady's way of speaking. I mean only...integrity shines in his eyes."

"I see," said his uncle. "I daresay in His Imperial Highness' case, you are correct, but I should hesitate, Your Ladyship, in always comprehending goodness in beholding the mere appearance of it."

"Oh, Sir Tristan," laughed Valentina. "How very wise you are! I daresay I can see where our darling prince gets it!"

Tristan looked at her long, and shook his head. It felt quite heavy, suddenly, a weighty crown supportedly only by tender throat. "I am not wise, Your Ladyship. Only wary, as is my calling. But if its wisdom you wish, I daresay my nephew cannot hasten here soon enough."

"Oh, you are so good, Sir Tristan! Then...you shall recommend us in our longing to see him?"

"I shall...convey your wishes to Prince Edmund, when next I see him." He had little doubt Valentina's entreaties wouldn't much appeal to his nephew, though doubtless the lad would still find his way to Malconaire soon enough despite her. The knight bit his lip to hide a smile and did not say so. "I've little doubt, in truth, that he's already planning a venture here just as soon as he can manage it. But, Your Ladyship is far too kind to pay such attentions to me when there's doubtless much to do to be ready for the happy event."

Immediately, Valentina's face hardened, only softened by the thinnest veneer of politeness. "Yes...my poor son is quite set upon the wedding coming quite soon."

He swallowed hard, past the hollow thing which still rasped somewhere at his heart. It had done so since he'd heard the news, scraping cold and cruel at his bones. He'd half-wished to hear it contradicted. But he'd not expected it. Still, he felt heaviness like a mantel. He pressed disappointment aside. None of that. Not now. If this was to bring Eithne happiness, then he wished nothing less for her. Still, Tristan wondered what Valentina considered to be quite soon, its spectral hand looming across the future like a waste.

"If you would be so good, my lady, I will detain you no further than to request that you might point out where I can find Lady Eithne? I have already expressed my congratulations to Lord Cassimir, but I must give all my best to the lady, herself."

Her face twitched, and Valentina quickly looked away. "Yes," she sniffed, gesturing vaguely with her handkerchief in hand. "I believe I last saw her heading that way, in the general direction of the Old Forest. Perhaps if you are quick you may catch her before the trees devour her altogether."

If Tristan wasn't mistaken, there was a touch of wistfulness to her tone. His thanks, when he gave them, were consequently stiff, and he began his march. Fortunately, it did not take him terribly long to find her, but now that he saw her, he hardly knew where to begin.

Eithne was everything she ought to be: something he'd thought, before meeting her, quite beyond the ambition of mere mortals. A true lady of her stature, after all, ought to be impossibly kind and gracious, gentle yet strong, giving and firm, unfailingly patient. A veritable saint in the guise of mortal garb. Yet, she managed all this and more with an easy smile, blue eyes twinkling like brilliant pools of clear water. Indeed, he could not fault Lord Cassimir for wanting her: only for claiming her when he did not deserve her.

Yet, Eithne had accepted him, and his well wishes were as genuine as any could ever be: to her, above all others, belonged only good. If the god was good, she would have it, and nothing more to trouble her.

The sun shone through the glade, dancing in pale dapples through the bower of leaves overhead as Tristan approached her, navigating the high grasses as they waved. He was struck, suddenly, with the notion that she was no much a part of Malconaire, that he did not think he could picture the place at all without her. They were right, indeed, to say that the heart of the world was the Old Forest, Tristan thought forcefully, then: they were right to say it so long as Lady Eithne stood there. For what else could be Malconaire's heart, than Eithne, herself?

"Lady Eithne," he began, as he approached, at last allowing his smile its freedom. "I'm glad to have found you. Malconaire feels lonely, I confess, when I do not see you here." A pause. God, he'd said too much, implied too great an ache...it would not do. "Your stepmother would, I think, attribute that to a...power of the blood," he teased softly. "But I don't pretend to understand such things. I only know you are...a part of this place."

He was beyond this, now: the formalities of his form more Varmont than Malconaire, after the years threaded togetherof their friendship, yet they were his safe harbor. How could he, feeling as he did, dispense with the security that came with such forms? No, familiarity was undeserved for him. He'd seen too much, done too much, but Eithne? Eithne was all things goodness. He did not deserve to so much as kiss her hem.

Yet, she was a balm, all the same. He quite forgot the heft of his head as she turned and looked at him, eyes brilliant as the sky above, cheeks round and rosy as apples, her lips warm and soft as petals. Yet, such descriptions did her no justice. The power of her eyes wasn't to be put down as something so untouchable, nor the warmth of her cheeks and her lips so remote as that: he felt her power thumping in his breast. Singing in his head. He'd do better, he thought, to compare her to the forest around her: radiant and fresh and achingly beautiful.

Yet...yet, despite her smile...there was something beneath it, something that wasn't any excitement he'd ever known. His breath was gone; his gut clenched. Something was worn taut in her, as if she'd opened her mouth and inhaled all the world's sadness, keeping it trapped just behind her teeth. He studied her, gaze sharpening on her own. Surely...surely, he was misreading her, but his fist clenched at his side, notwithstanding.

But he was late in coming -- he ought to have come when first he'd heard but...somehow he could not. He'd known he'd need to be composed to face her, it was the greatest kindness he could offer her, but it'd taken some doing. She was not to be the lamb: she was too precious. But perhaps she'd go to the altar, happy, after all, and that was, indeed, what he wanted for her, what he prayed she'd have. But it was not what he thought he saw in her, now, though he did not dare say so. Perhaps this would be the last occasion he might be alone with her, for he could not imagine Cassimir should wish to be parted from her ever again, once they were wed. No, no sadness now: now was a moment for cheer, for hope. All their lives spread before them, and none could say what they might hold, but now -- now he was with her. And that was enough for him.

Looking down a pace, he closed the gap between them before he found her eyes again, offering a soft smile. "I've heard your news, my lady." He swallowed hard. He offered a gentle smile, despite himself, and, gingerly, his hand to take if she chose. "I've come to wish you joy."

[forgotteneithne]

"We could walk to the village together," Aoife suggested as Eithne laced up her boot. "I'm sure our step mother has something she could think up for us to fetch while there."

Eithne looked up to where her sister was standing, in the doorway with a half hearted smile. She felt as if that was all she could muster nowadays with any of her sisters, just the barest of smiles.

"Don't take it personally, but I think my mind needs the quiet of the forest today," Eithne replied. Aoife nodded. Of all of her sisters, Eithne knew Aoife would understand most what she meant.

The weather was starting to turn cool, the leaves on the trees surrounding their house starting to turn brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow. Eithne wrapped her favorite green shawl around her shoulders as she slipped out the door, weaving her way through the overgrown garden and disappearing into the canopy of trees.

The trails through the trees seemed to disappear the deeper one went into the woods, but those who know the forest of Malconaire well could follow even the faintest of trails. Eithne had mostly come to the forest for the quiet, like she'd told her sister, but she also had her eye out for plants to collect to replenish their stores for the winter. All four of the Malconaire sisters knew what to find in the forest to help with all manner of ailments, Eithne herself having learned about much of it at her grandmother's knee when she was quite young.

A familiar plant caught her eye, poking out from amongst the leaves blanketing the forest floor. Eithne knelt down, pushing the leaves aside to reveal the white flowers. She smiled to herself, her hand pushing back more of the leaves until the flower was completely visible. A white lily, blooming late in the season.

The sound of footsteps crunching on the sleeves startled her slightly and Eithne straightened back up, turning to face whomever was approaching her. The steps followed the path, so she knew it wouldn't be Ronan or Kale daring to come back to see her. Part of her expected to see Cassimir but, instead, found Tristan Calainon's kind eyes meeting hers instead. He had been a figure at Malconaire from time to time since the arrival of the Varmonts. He had always been kind, a calm presence.

Eithne found herself flushing slightly at his words. She had been told many times that she was a part of Malconaire, that she belonged here, but there was something so much more earnest and truthful in the way Tristan spoke that it seemed as if he believed it with all his soul.

"You musn't listen to what my step mother says... I don't think she understands this place, not really," Eithne replied. She did not like to speak negatively of anyone, but the weeks of Valentina's mental and verbal assaults upon her had begun to take their toll. Still, she softened her words with a smile for the man as he approached.

Eithne took Tristan's hand as he offered it, trying to keep her face from looking defeated at his well wishes. Of course word had spread about her engagement to Cassimir, despite Valentina's attempts to keep it from happening. Her step mother still clung to the hope Cassimir might change his mind, forsaken Eithne and find a more suitable bride. Eithne would never admit part of her wished for the same thing.

"You are very kind to come all the way out here, Sir Tristan. I am sure you must have much more pressing things to attend to back at court. But I am so pleased to see you." She found she could not acknowledge his will wishes. Part of her wondered if she might ever feel joy again. Her sacrifice was supposed to be for Malconaire, was it not? Malconaire, her home, the place she knew she must protect and care for... Why could she not find joy in the assurance the she was saving it?

"Will you walk with me?" she gestured towards the path. "I know the old woods well. I promise I shall not get us lost," Eithne assured him, her tone a touch teasing.

As they turned towards the path, the white lily Eithne had uncovered was there, bright against the browns that created the floor of the forest as autumn arrived. Eithne stared at it for a moment before speaking. It wasn't something that she needed to explain, but also it was something that she found she wished for Tristan to know.

"These were my mother's favorite flower. They used to grow all over the grounds of our home but..." Eithne stopped, turned to Tristan and offered him a small smile. "No longer. But every now and then, you'll come across a few out here in the woods. These are blooming quite late... probably the last we will see until the spring."

"Are there forests, like ours, in your home?" EIthne inquired, changing the subject suddenly. Speaking of her mother to him had brought up emotions she had not expected. "Do you miss it ever? Would you wish to go back?"

[forgottentristan]

A pretty flush unfurled along Eithne's cheeks, and her eyes, star-bright, shone as they met his. He remembered an evening, not a year hence, when he'd been fortunate enough to see her dancing. The night had been bright in the silver light of the moon, and kindled by a bonfire that he and the three princes had helped construct. They daughters of Malconaire had said it was a night on which they liked to remember their parents, and Aoife had struck up a little tune which -- she'd said -- her father had composed for her mother. Smiling and declaring this her mother's dancing song, Roisin had pulled Edmund out towards the fire to dance with her and, inspired, Arthur had offered a hand to Eithne as well.

Tristan well recalled Eithne's smile, then, the way her whole being had seemed to brighten, beams of pure happiness streamingf from every contour of her face, and each motion she made. Her arms were always graceful, but something in the slow sweep of them as they went to Arthur's shoulders was enchanting, her body in rhythm with the breathing of the world as she twirled. Her laughter sounded warm and cheerful as the crackling flames, that night, driving every hint of the night's cool air from Tristan's limbs. And he'd prayed, that night, prayed he might always see her so: the picture of such pure and perfect happiness, her every lithe motion at harmony with the joy of her face. All of nature seemed to bend to watch her, a grove of ancient things which had never, in all their time, witnessed something so lovely.

He was holding his breath, Tristan realized, and quickly he stepped back. It was only an echo of a happier time, he told himself, but standing in her light was a spell he was loathe to break.

Tristan smiled bemusedly at Eithne's words, and nodded. "I believe that's probably true."

There was something crass, self-serving in Valentina which was not present in the other ladies there, some strange twang that hissed insincerity in every word she spoke. It was not merely the cloying manner she adopted around Tristan and his Varmont cohorts (though that certainly did not help), but deeper still, as if, were her psyche stripped bare, it should be branded with a marbleized vein of untruth coursing through every feature of her undisguised mind.

But nothing could be less so when it came to her daughters. More genuine people he did not think he'd ever encountered, every impulse streaming true from the very beat of their hearts -- even when it came to their own detriment. If truth was the root of Malconaire, Tristan did not think one such as Valentina could ever fully perceive it. Indeed -- he was not sure he could, either, but he could feel its magic, notwithstanding, its tall trees breathing peace with every moment. And Eithne did understand. And who better?

But more to the point, Tristan suspected something sadder: he suspected that Valentina could not understand Eithne, no matter how hard either of them might try. And he knew how that felt, too. He knew the acrid sting of its loneliness, even with a mother who was not one's mother. He knew it well.

"What would you tell her," he wondered aloud. "To help her understand...if you could?"

It was a question he'd asked himself, too, though no answer had ever fully satisfied the divide. The chasm was too great. He hoped she might achieve a different result, but even if she did not, he found strange relief in imagining, if only for a moment, another way, and he hoped she might find that much peace, at least.

She took his offered hand. Her skin was soft in his calloused palm, but when she looked up into his face, he found himself searching for any trace of that happy girl he'd known one cold evening, dancing in the twinkling firelight, diaphonous skirts and mahogany tresses fanning out around her to reflect back gold fire and silver stars till she seemed caught in a brilliant nimbus of radiant light. But she was shut up, he saw, walled in behind something dark and morose, a well of inky sadness that threatened to douse the fires still glittering down far below.

Don't do this, he longed to say. Don't do this, it's killing you. But that was his weakness, not hers: she was stronger than this. And he saw that, too, gleaming beneath that inky well in her eyes. And it was her choice, however much it pained him to see. Cassimir could never conquer her. Tristan would not do her the disrespect of suggesting otherwise: she knew she need not do it, but she was choosing to, notwithstanding.

Still, he felt that well of inky black pressing hard upon her heart as it did upon his, an iron clang of spiky fear. And he clasped her hands with both his own. There was nothing more than this that he could give to her, but he wished he could give her some portion of whatever strength he had, that she need not bear it alone, and he willed whatever silender silver spire of it to pour from his hands into hers. But it was silly and, dropping his other hand again, he pressed her hand reverently to his lips.

Despite himself, some strange, traitorous part of him gave a little leap for joy when she said she was pleased to see him. Foolish heart, he thought. But he could not hide his smile, not entirely, and he looked quickly away. "I'm glad to be here, my lady. Nature, I find, does my heart good."

He chuckled at her mention of becoming lost. His voice, when he spoke, was warm. "I trust you, my lady."

They had not walked long when she stopped, eyes alighting upon something white and shining beanth a cloak of fallen leaves. Quickly, she knelt, uncovering it to the sun's warm glow. A lily burst forth in shining radiance, petals bright as fresh-fallen snow. Kneeling beside her as she began to speak, he helped her, pressing back the thorns and thicket that tumbled around and about it, so that it had room to breathe.

"What killed them all? It's a wonder, I suppose, that this one has survived so long in all this jumble," he said. "Life is tenacious, isn't it?"

Her words were sudden and, as she stood, he did so alongside her. But it was a genuine question and he looked at her a moment. He'd grown up amongst the Varmonts: he was accustomed to only ever hearing of his Kolchean past as a blight upon his career: a means of demeaning him, but he could see that such had not occurred to her, and soft gratitude brush his ribs.

Tristan laughed. "Once, perhaps, but...long ago. What I know of Kolchean history I have from my brother, but...I am told that once she was a great power in that part of the world, millennia ago or more and...the forests must have died, then, I suppose. The Kolchis I knew was, you see, a city covered all in marble and mosaic. I imagine, once, it must have gleamed when the sun shone upon it, but that was generations ago. I have not been there in many years, and the god knows my brother has been very consciencious in attending to it, but...The Kolchis of my childhood was a decaying thing. Cracks and grime scored all the marble and every mosaic was missing its pieces. My family," he shrugged. It was not something he was largely comfortable speaking of, and he had not learned the art of referring to it casually.

"I don't know what knowledge has come here of him, but I had a -- controversial ancestor." He winced; went on. "Long story short, we were charged with maintaining the Eternal Flame which, supposedly, has burned in Kolchis since ancient times. My acenstor built a temple all around it and..." he did not know how to refer to his past poverty. He chose, instead, simply to talk around it. "Once, it had been a very grand thing, I'm sure, but time had not been kind. Its ceiling was largely crumbled away, with its pillars rising up and up to the open sky as if to frame the moon, I used to think when I'd lay on my back and look up at it on a full moon, but...The thing I remember most was a tree."

He laughed. "Now, I don't mean to excite you. This was a dead tree, dead I think longer than any of us have been alive, and half-petrified for all that, but huge as any of the buildings round it. But, dead as it was, it had some life in it, still: two branches side by side, steadfastly producing spindly bud-bright leaves with the coming of every season. In the autumn, those leaves would come tumbling down, brown as anything. The scrape of them on the cracked marble floor as the wind whistled by is something I will forever associate with the coming of cold. But if you didn't hear it? Well, it seemed it must be warm." He chuckled, shook his head.

He never knew how to speak of the place, the time. He had fond memories there -- he had wretched memories too. But it had been all he'd known, and the sum of it was greater than any of these, a strange shadow that spun and slinked amidst the glow of firelight.

It was his turn to stop, to cast his gaze down, to think. "In truth -- I don't know how to answer your questions...I'm not sure Kolchis is my home, anymore, my lady. I'm not sure I have a home. But I do miss it, from time to time, in certain ways. But..." he shook his head. "Not, I think, in the ways you might expect. All was not..." But he did not know how to speak of that.

"It is an ancient city," he said, finally, leaving it unsaid. "And certain parts of it, even in my childhood, were bright and beautiful. The god-king's palace featured golden rooves, with the tallest of them toppest by a famous jewel -- now part of Roderick's repetoire -- said to be the largest in all the world. Every morning, the god-king had his brave servants scramble to the top to burnish it, so that it glittered and glowed like a beacon for all the world to see. Kolchis was, in ancient times, a great empire -- until our present Emperor, the largest the world had ever seen, as my brother would have it -- but by my birth its borders ensconced precious little outside its own city walls...diminishing this boast somewhat," he laughed. "But the gem was called the Dragon's Eye, and it was said often that, when the light of the sun or moon struck it, that it could be seen glowing like fire in every part of Kolchis. Certainly," he added. "We could see it in the most ancient part of the city where the temple stood."

He did not know what had become of that gem, once visible to and admired by thousands, now doubtlessly either hidden away like so much storage amongst all the other treasures Roderick had claimed for his own, or else cut up into a thousand pieces to make a thousand crowns -- the Dragon's Eye turned all to Dragon's Tears.

"I don't know if I'd recognize it, were I to go back, but yes...sometimes I think I'd like to see it as it is, now. My brother has, I am certain, transformed it into something bright and gleaming, and I have little doubt it is worth seeing...And I should like to visit the family mausoleum where my grandmother was interred. But...I do think I could ever live there again. Kolchis is not..." he gestured around him. "Kolchis is not like this place, my lady. It is where I grew up...but I am not certain that it is, or ever really was, my home as Malconaire is to you."

[forgotteneithne]

"I think I'd bring here out here... out into the old woods, so she can hear it, hear how Malconaire lives and breathes but..." Eithne looked down at the ground for a few beats. "I think too much has passed, now, for her to ever change her... ways,"

Eithne's gaze met Tristan's then, his eyes so dark and deep. Since the announcement of her engagement, Eithne felt as if people rarely met her gaze for long. She wasn't sure if it was pity, if it was disappointment, but so often she found even those she knew best couldn't keep looking in her eyes for too long, now. But not Tristan. Was he braver than the rest? Or was their friendship so new, his knowledge of what fate she was not resigned to so limited that he did not view her as others did, now?

His hands felt warm, wrapped around hers... calloused, yes, but still the way he grasped her hand in his, she found herself thinking for a brief moment that she did not wish for him to let go... but, Eithne reminded herself quickly, she was to be Cassimir's wife. She must honor her commitment to him. "It warms my heart to hear you say that," Eithne smiled as Tristan spoke of feeling glad to be at Malconaire. It felt as if Tristan was another kindred spirit, someone who appreciated this place as much as she did. "Malconaire is still so... so scarred from the war but the forests... the trees... the land... the real heart of this place lives on."

Eithne had long suspected her step mother was the cause behind the slow disappearance of her mother's flowers around Malconaire, though she never saw anything to give proof to her theory. It felt as if when the last lily was gone, so would be the memory of her mother.

"We found the flowers less and less after my mother's death," Eithne said sadly. "... my step mother finds their smell offensive, so we never kept them in the house. But, as silly as it sounds... I like finding them, like this, sort of as a surprise. Its like my mother is still here, watching over us all, whenever I see one of her lilies."

Eithne was quite taken listening to Tristan speak of Kolchis. It seemed a queer place to be a child from his description, though she supposed he might think the same of her-- there was a great oak tree in the center of her home, afterall! It struck her how very little she had seen of the world, how little she really knew of anywhere outside of Astaira really. She wondered if she might find any books to read on the Kolchean mythos-- perhaps, then, she might be able to better discuss it with Sir Tristan.

"I've never been out of Astaira," Eithne confessed. Even with the Riverbend so close, she had never had a reason to step foot outside of Astairan soil. "It sounds so very different, Kolchis. Perhaps I might see it, one day."

Even as she said it, Eithne knew she would never visit Kolchis. She would never leave Astaira. Perhaps she might travel with Cassimir to the Riverbend, but that would be it. She would stay at Malconaire, doing her best to sway Cassimir's opinion in favor of her own. She would raise their children, she would go to court when her husband was required there... and she would gladly bear it, for Malconaire.

"Were you close with your grandmother?" Eithne inquired, her thoughts turning to her own grandmother then. She would never approve of Eithne marrying a man like Cassimir. Eithne couldn't imagine her grandmother even letting Valentina into their house-- as kind and loving as the woman had been, Eithne knew her grandmother was known for her strong will and, like all of the Malconaires before and since, her sense of duty.

"I was named for my grandmother-- she was the heir of Malconaire, not my grandfather," Eithne explained. "She taught me all about these woods... what plants cure which ailments, what mushrooms to avoid. She had this gnarled walking stick she'd use to walk through these woods up until the day she died... I sometimes wish I could talk to her... ask her what she thinks I should do about--"

Eithne stopped. She'd been about to say she wished she could talk to her grandmother about Cassimir, but of course did not wish to say that outloud to Tristan. This was her burden to bear alone.

"I hope you can find a place that feels like home to you, Sir Tristan. It must feel very..." Eithne searched for the word, silent for a moment. "... unsettling, I would think. But I am sure, in this vast empire, you will find that place... if you have not already."

[forgottentristan]

Queen of Hearts | Tristan & Edmund

Amira's quarters were stifling dark, draped all in dusky velvets and mired in shadow only dimished here and there by slashes of violent light. He knew why she did it: he'd been a child in Kolchis, but he remembered well and good that such tricks were helpful in convincing the ignorant of the presence of magic -- and in overawing them as well. To him, it was a net. But he inhaled deeply and pressed onwards.

While, when Godfrey stayed at the palace, he quartered in Amira's wing, Tristan's own quarters were amongst his men, something he greatly preferred (to his sister's great annoyance -- she insisted it would send a better statement to maintain his quarters as her brother in her wing rather than truly slumbering in those of the Lord Commander. He suspected she also worried that someone might try something against his life there, but he did not in fact fancy himself any more safe here than there. Still, he did come here each evening to check in with his siblings and nephew on a personal level (for he did the same with his sister and nephew in an offical safety capacity throughout the day). Moving from Amira's inner-rooms and into her presence chamber on his way back out, he spotted Edmund and gave him a weary smile.

"Careful," he began, arching a brow. "She's in one of her moods." Tristan smiled despite himself, shaking his head. He did love his sister, but this was no easy task -- and, even knowing this as she did, she had precious little pity on anyone who dared. It was their failing, if they were not tough enough to handle her.

Amira's moods were many, but this was a particular one about which he always warned her son, if he could: an accusatory mood. Why didn't you do enough? Why weren't you good enough? Why don't you do more? It was no easy thing for a younger brother to hear. It was a still worse thing, he imaged, on a son.

"It just comes out of her frustrations," he added, gently. Edmund, he was sure, knew this as well as he did. But it never hurt to hear. And perhaps he said it as much for himself as for his nephew.

Currently, she was choking on Marian's most recent coups -- in the days that followed, he had no doubt, she'd be crowing upon victories of her own. Their relationship had always had an awful cyclical quality of the kind as the emperor played his families off against each other. But there was something new.

"Edmund..." Tristan bit his lip. "She's speaking of your marriage. The...lady in question does not seem, as yet, to have materialized from the ether, but...your mother appears to believe that it is now time to begin seeking her. And, Edmund...she came to this conclusion after a visit from your father."

Tristan did not know for sure that the Emperor had put that thought to her, but it seemed a strange coincidence if he had not. Whether it were a passing fancy, Tristan did not know. Still, he thought it best to give Edmund a touch of warning before it were sprung upon him, as, he had little doubt, Amira would otherwise do. If it had, indeed, been the Emperor's wish to see his son wed, Amira probably had him halfway down the aisle in her mind, by now.

This, too, would be a source of competition, Tristan did not doubt, between Edmund and Arthur. (At least, Tristan reflected, half-wry, Guin would be spared this particular competition.) There would be a lady, he was sure -- just one, no doubt -- who would be deemed best by their father. Whoever could woo her would, in theory, win. But that was no way to find one's life's partner.

Still, Tristan was in no position to give counsel on this subject. He was sure, now, that he would never wed, despite Amira's irritability on that score. How could he when she was to wed--But that was neither here nor there. This was Edmund's chance.

Yet he found he couldn't be silent, either. Amira, after all, had taken quite another perspective from Tristan's own -- and paid its awful price. Hers was no charmed existence, though she had gotten all she'd ever said she'd wanted, right enough. But Amira would not tell Edmund that; Roderick would not, either. Not even Godfrey would say as much to him. In his way, Godfrey's ambitions were just as ruthless as their sister's. No, it fell to Tristan to say the truth, even if he'd failed at it, in his own way, in the end. He had this, at least, in common with his siblings: he wanted better for Edmund than he'd had, himself: he simply defined that differently.

"Might I just say -- a marriage is more than a chance at the throne, Edmund. Don't forget that, whatever happens. You'll want more in the end. I'm sure of it."

[forgottenedmund]

"I don't think I need to be warned of it, uncle," Edmund said dryly. "When can one not say that of my mother?"

Amira tended not to be in one of her moods when she was up to something, and then her facade was only hiding the fact that she was still, very much, in one of her moods. Edmund was not in a particularly charitable mood, himself, when it came to his mother. Or his father, for that matter.

It was easier, just now, to be angry with them than to feel the burden of guilt and regret that he found he was carrying around with him these days. It had been much easier to forget his involvement with the battle of Malconaire -- to keep his Varmont life separate from the one he lived when he was with Rose -- when it had all been kept buried.

But now it had been dragged up to the surface, where it had been left to rot out in the sun. And there was no escaping it. Not even in the depth of his mother's dark and dreary chambers.

Normally, hearing plans of his upcoming marriage would have distressed him. He had dreaded the commitment, the responsibilities, and the headaches he was sure were to come with such a step. He'd only ever had his parents as an example of what wedded bliss looked like, and he had wanted none of it.

There had been a time, since then, when he had not been so opposed to the idea. If he were allowed to marry someone he liked; someone he cared for; someone who had been his friend long before they had ever been anything else ... but those hopes had died, too, and now there was nothing left to do but bitterly resign to the future he had once hoped to escape.

"I am only surprised that they haven't been talking of it sooner," He said, "I know my mother has been wishing it for some time now."

What she truly wanted, was to see Edmund named as his father's heir and there would be no better recommendation for this, if he had been the first son to make a good match and produce a heir of his own.

Edmund nearly laughed when his uncle told him that he should want more from his marriage than whatever he should gain from it politically. If only it would have been so easy to obtain as his uncle made it sound. "Perhaps, but that is not a luxury I can afford, is it? My mother was not so lucky, was she? It is the price we pay for this life. I've known for a long time, uncle, that my wife shall be whomever my mother and father select for me." A beat. "To hope for anything more is a waste of my time."

[forgottentristan]

Tristan's chuckle was a dry sound; slightly regretful. He half-remembered still the girl Amira had once been. Already her innocence had largely been stolen from her by the time Tristan had been born, yet once her moods had been irresistable pluck and courageous determination. Somewhere along the line, they'd taken a decidedly different turn.

Yet, despite himself, laugh he did, acknowledging with bemusement and a quirk of the lips, "The Queen is a lady of...many tempers. And quick ones, too." Her changeability, however, was rarely a gift these days, generally turning dark humors still darker yet.

Yet, he found himself quite surprised by Edmund's casual approach to the talk of his nuptials. He had guessed that the news would, in fact, prove rather distressing. It was not a secret to Tristan that Edmund had never much relished the idea of wedding and, while they had both found some happiness at Malconaire, neither of them had had any real hope of any marriage actually coming to fruition there. Edmund would need a princess -- and Tristan would, it seemed, never now wed. Yet, Tristan had not seen him lately there. He wondered if the two situations were related.

His brows arched at the cavalier tone, but he nodded. He could not deny Amira's hopes. He'd heard her speak of a dozen ladies over the course of time, one including 'that Astairan piece,' back when Eilionora had still been ruling Queen -- Amira had at first meant Aria, if Tristan recalled aright, but Godfrey had suggested aiming higher. Godfrey had said Eilionora -- and Amira had liked the notion of that. They had agreed that Edmund peacefully bringing Astaira into the fold by marriage would prove quite the coup -- a rare feat that any plan should suit both Tristan's siblings! But Roderick's plans, as always, had trumped all others and Eilionora was now slated to be his own prize, with Edmund no nearer a bride than he had begun.

"I heard talk of the eldest Lorcan sister," he supplied, hoping to arm his nephew with knowledge, at least. "As well as the usual talk of ladies from outside the Empire."

A Lorcan, it seemed, had ruled Astaira during Roderick's own lifetime, though before Tristan's or certainly Edmund's, and so Roderick still viewed them as royalty -- if a conquered, lesser degree than the Staffords or...some such (it seemed the concept of electing rulers still somewhat eluded the Emperor), but with the Staffords having been, themselves, conquered and degraded to bastards, the bloom was well and truly off that particular rose in Amira's view. But perhaps Tristan had misunderstood. Amira had, in truth, been speaking very quickly.

"It seems there is some chatter of...a ball meant to host every remaining independent princess from across the globe."

The unspoken understanding was that Edmund's brothers would also be expected to find wives, there, and doubtless whomever found the richest, prettiest bride from the largest kingdom would be consiered the victor...until such time as their father inevitably invaded her home. Personally, Tristan could not picture such a situation possibly ending well, were such a ball indeed to be undertaken, but it was not his place to say as much.

Tristan turned quickly to look Edmund in the face as he spoke of the price of luxury. "Edmund," Tristan began softly. "Your situation...It is not what your mother's was." He was quiet a long moment. He didn't know what had happened between Edmund and Roisin, but it seemed his nephew had soured significantly towards the girl. It was a great pity, as Edmund had seemed as happy as he'd ever known him at Malconaire, but it did not need to doom him in that category for life. He was still so very young...Tristan rarely spoke of Kolchis, of what it had been like, and in truth he remembered far less of it than his sibings...But he remembered enough.

"What your mother did...There was desperation there, Edmund. You need not be desperate. That is the good she has accorded you with her own choice. And you -- you have the luxury of time, as well. Arthur may be more pressed, but this is a benefit of being his junior."

Yet, even Tristan knew that Edmund could not do more than employ mere...delaying tactics, once his parents had made up their mind. He might be emperor, someday, but on this day, in this way, he was little more than their pawn. It struck him as cruel to use their own child in such a way -- particularly when they looked to throne that very child. How was one accustomed to strict control then to turn and exert the same upon others?

"A waste, Edmund? The right person by your side can change everything. If you do, indeed, become emperor, will your empress not be your surest ally? Oughtn't you have some say in her identity? If...if Lady Roisin has...displeased you in some way," he shook his head. That was not the way to begin. And that lady, it was true, would never have been accepted by his parents as a potential empress...

"Forgive me. I only meant -- you are young, Edmund. You may yet find a lady as much to, or even more to, your tastes than she, one who could aid you in the achievement of your goals, whatever they may prove to be. Do not rush into something you may come to regret unless you are sure it is what you want. I am sure that your father may be persuaded to hold off, in your case at least, for the present. I'm sure I could help you if you wished to persuade them to delay..."

[forgottenedmund]

Edmund vaguely recalled meeting the Lorcans. He knew that they were cousins of the Malconaires and it was this connection alone that they had left any lasting impression upon him. "I'd rather avoid the Lorcan girl, if I can help it," He said, "In fact, I'd rather not have an Astairan bride, at all."

And certainly not one who happened to be related to the Malconaires.

He meant to forget them. He meant to forget her. It would be easier, if he could.

Edmund could not help the smirk that followed his uncle's announcement that there were rumors of hosting a ball with the remaining independent princesses. "How many of those are left?" He asked, aloud. "I suppose they'd rather ally themselves with my father, if they have the choice, than risk an invasion. If they must loose control of their lands to Roderick Varmont, a king might as well have gained him as a father-in-law over losing his head."

Edmund almost wished for that end, just now. Perhaps marrying and leaving this place for good would be the best thing for everyone.

If he married an independent princess, his father need not officially conquer their kingdom. It would be, at the least, a peaceful takeover with the crown going to Roderick's grandchild one day. It would not atone for his own sins: saving one country after he had helped in vanquishing another -- but it would save lives, at the least, and perhaps that would be the most he could hope for in his own marriage.

"Would you follow your own advice in this, uncle?" Edmund asked, wearily. He had no notions of Tristan's own hidden affections and would have laughed if he had known that it was also a Malconaire that held his heart (perhaps there was a witch amongst them, after all). But he suddenly wondered if Tristan would be so quick to follow his own heart, if duty prevented it.

And while it was a sense of hopelessness, and not duty, that had steered Edmund's own former ambitions of perhaps marrying for love, he doubted his uncle would ever fall to the same level of despair he now found himself in. While his uncle was realistic, he was hopeful, too, and Edmund knew that even if he told his uncle everything that had happened between him and Roisin, he would still tell him not to give up so easily. But Edmund also knew that he would be wrong to suggest it.

The past would remain as it always had been and Rose Malconaire would never forgive him.

"She has not displeased me, uncle," Edmund managed, after a moment. He did not want any of them thinking ill of her, if he could help it.

"It's me, not her, who is to blame for it."

[forgottentristan]

Tristan nodded slowly as Edmund spoke of his preferences. This declaration struck him as odd. Whatever Lady Roisin had done, he thought, must have been wretched, indeed. Not so very long ago, Tristan had thought Edmund well and truly enchanted with the Astairan way. Perhaps, however, it had not been something the girl had done but, rather, something Edmund had learned of Astairan culture, Tristan thought, which had brought such things to light. One way or another, it seemed that chapter had ended.

Tristan nodded. "Very well," he replied, softly. "I'll see if I can help...direct the search away from that direction. Your Uncle Godfrey prefers, I believe, the Lady Aria, but I imagine he can be persuaded to consider differently." There were plenty of ladies from across the empire, and indeed from beyond it, who would jump at the chance to wed Edmund. He could afford to be particular in his choice of bride.

Watching a smirk cross Edmund's face, Tristan couldn't help the responding smile that touched his own features. Shaking his head at Edmund's words, he laughed, a touch wryly. "Fewer and fewer each year, I believe." A beat. "Oh, yes. No doubt some countries would prefer to join the Empire with its resources and protections than live under their own governments, as well," he added. And many would rather sell their children, he thought. Than risk their lives or positions. Wasn't that just what Amira plotted even now to do with her son?

Kolchis, itself, had killed its god-king and thrown open its gates to greet Roderick with rich tributes and parades. They hadn't realized, at the time, that they were only welcoming in something near as bad as what they'd just destroyed. But the die was already cast, and Amira had, herself, caught Roderick's that eye, that day, bearing the severed head of the deposed god-king on a silver platter to the emperor, herself.

Roderick still spoke of conquering the known world, but some instinct inside Tristan told him that, were he to achieve even that feat, it still would not be enough. He could sooner see him commissioning fruitless exploratory ventures in order to discovery new worlds to conquer, than be contented with what he had. But Tristan did not say so.

"I suppose, even without a crown, a former king would pose no bad ally for you, either," mused Tristan with a soft sigh. It pained him that such matters must be considered in this way. But Edmund, himself, seemed to prefer it. And, much as it pained him, there was the coming war to consider. Tristan did his utmost to forestall it all he could, but he was hardly a catalyst at court, and the House of Varmont seemed primed like a powder keg to detonate against itself at the moment of Roderick's demise which, if the emperor insisted on maintaining his warlike ways, would likely prove sooner rather than later.

Edmund's question took him by surprise, and he fell silent, contemplating. Tristan liked to think that he never gave advice he himself wouldn't take, but he had spoken as much with a wish for what Edmund might someday have, as anything else, he realized. His exhalation was slow. "Yes," he said. He smiled, but sadly. "In my way, I believe I already have. After..." Tristan glanced away. His own conduct in the last war had been inglorious, as Roderick had made fully clear, and he knew Edmund was well aware of how Tristan had tried to cheat the executioners of the agonizing deaths so-called witches faced. Perhaps the only thing that had shielded him from Roderick's ongoing wrath after Tristan's betrayal at the Pyre Walk was in becoming quickly overshadowed by Edmund's victory at Malconaire. Yet, Tristan was finding it every day harder to much revel in that, either. He knew too well, now, how it had pained those there...

"After the past war, I was very...very weary. I was ready to wed, Edmund," he owned. He bit his lip. "I thought that, perhaps, settling down and...changing the way I was living my life was the best path for me. But I...I met someone, Edmund. Someone I can never have. I mean, now, never to take a wife. Better not to act, than to live a life of regret." He caught Edmund's eye. Nodded. "That was my choice, as I saw it. So in my way, Edmund, yes. I would take my own advice. I have done. But..." he sighed. "I am well aware it may not prove so easy as that. Your mother and uncle, as you know, as well as, lately, Her Majesty Queen Marian have put the question to me whether I might consider a bride. If it were my duty...How could I refuse?"

"It's me, not her, who is to blame for it."

Tristan could not hide the shock in his eyes, and looked down. The weight of the world was in Edmund's voice and, wordlessly, Tristan put an understanding hand upon his nephew's shoulder. He did not know what the boy had been through, nor whether he would push Tristan away the next moment, but he did know that Edmund had never had an easy life, and that his regard had been true. He coudln't help but think that Edmund had been dealt a terrible hand and that, whatever hadhappened, it was perhaps less Edmund's fault than he seemed to imply.

After a moment, letting his hand drop to his side, he turned sympathetically to him once again. "Do you wish to talk about it, Edmund?"

[forgottentristan]

Fox & Moon | Tristan & Guinevere

The day was bright, but Guinevere's mood seemed very much the opposite. Matching her pace as they walked the palace gardens, Tristan cast a glance towards the young woman, her expression cloaked with quiet anxiety he knew she did not intend to share, yet he knew her too well and too long to have entirely missed.

"Guin," he murmured.

She walked on, heedless, brows contorting as she worked through something in her mind.

"Guin?" Tristan stopped.

The princess walked on.

Despite himself, the knight chuckled slightly. What had begun as a companionable walk had clearly turned into something else. Guinevere, it seemed, was walkng now only with whatever thoughts ran through her mind. Jogging ahead to reach her, Tristan caught Guinevere's arm. She started, moved almost as if into a defensive posture, and Tristan frowned, half-laughed -- this time more a surprised sound than anything -- and stepped back. He didn't move to defend himself. She could strike him if she liked. Her form was good. If he didn't know better, he might say it appeared trained, but he couldn't imagine who might have taught her --

"Is there something you want to talk about, Guinevere?" he asked, tilting his head. "Or, maybe you'd like to tell me where you learned that pose, perhaps?"

Like many of her close comapnions, Tristan had not missed how pensive she'd been since Roderick's sudden announcement regarding her marriage, and he could not help but draw the conclusion that the to items were linked. But the natural way she had moved into that position -- that represented years, not days, of training. Tristan shook his head. He returned to the other matter. For now, at least.

"It will not offend me, you know, if you tell me that you think Eoin quite a toad," he said, arching his brows attempting a somewhat playful air, despite his concern. "His sister is marrying my brother, true, but I will deny that I am more concerned about the bride than the groom in that pairing, as well."

Though it was not quite the same there. He loved Godfrey, but he also knew what it was like to be loved like him. he wouldn't particularly wish that on other people.. Eoin had no such problems of which Tristan was aware.

With a sigh, Tristan shook his head, dropping any pretense of a jocular manner, allow genuine concern to creep into his eyes. "Talk to me, Guin."

[forgottentristan]

marian : "You won't get another time to try."

"Sir Tristan," began Queen Marian, one bright morning as they walked along the palace gardens. "Have you thought any further on our conversation of some time ago? Did you plant the lilies?"

He swallowed hard. "I did, Your Majesty. Thank you greatly, I--"

Marian shook her head. "I do not collect bulbs to keep them out of soil, Sir Tristan. I am happy they are growing." She paused. "Has it...aided your suit?"

His head snapped up. "What?"

"I thought perhaps it was...linked to our talks of...matrimony. I should like to see you take a wife, Sir Tristan."

Tristan glanced down, a sign of humility -- a sign of thought. "Your Majesty does me great honor, but--"

"But you do not think of matrimony, at the present?"

Tristan opened his mouth to speak, but Marian shook her head. "You are a loyal and trusted servant to His Imperial Majesty, it is true, but you are a member of his extended family as well. I know His Majesty would not wish you always alone, and with even his own sons now considering marriage, I count it as quite past your time."

"Does Your Majesty command that I take a wife?"

Marian sighed. "Of course not. But you won't get another time to try."

Tristan frowned.

The Queen gestured for him to take a seat by her side. Slowly, he assumed the position. She waited till he was situated before speaking again. "You told me this...this mysterious lady whom you fancy, that she is promised to another. She is not yet wed, I believe?"

"I--She is not, Your Majesty."

"Once she is, that door will close."

"It already has."

"She is not yet married. It has not."

"She does not feel as I do."

"Does she know how you feel, Sir Tristan?"

His eyes darted to hers and, for a moment, he held her gaze, before his fell away again.

He could hear the smile in her voice. "I shall take that as a 'no.'"

"I cannot tell her now--"

"Then when will you tell her? Now is the only moment you have."

[forgotteneithne]

Sanctuary | Tristan + Eithne

She made her excuses, smiling at the guests as Eithne made her way out of the Great Hall, away from her fiancee and step mother, away from the Varmonts, away from everyone. It wasn't until she was safely away from the guests that she picked up her pace, nearly breaking into a run down the hall before bursting into the back garden She felt the cold air hitting her face, her breathing erratic as she tried to calm herself. She would not cry-- she was not sad. She was not angry. It was more than that, an emotion she could not name.

A noise to her right caused Eithne to turn abruptly. Standing, half concealed in the darkness, was Tristan.

Eithne stared at him, saying nothing for a few moments. She could turn, go back inside, and hope he forgot about this moment entirely. But even though she wished to be away, far away from everyone inside that house... she did not wish to be alone. Instead she crossed to him, grabbing his hand as she stared up at him.

"Come with me," she implored of him. Not waiting for a response, she turned, half dashing him across the back garden to where the trees would keep them hidden, pulling Tristan after her as she went.

She knew the path well though it was partially overgrown, her step mother shouting at anyone who tried to clear the small pathway of brush. Her satin slippers and fine gown were not made for hurrying through the forest but she hardly noticed the brambles and twigs that scratched her ankles and snagged the hem of her gown. She knew where she went now, Valentina and Cassimir would never go.

She finally released Tristan's hand as the pair entered the glade where, at the center, stood the statue of her mother and father.

EIthne took a few steps towards the statue, stopped, turned back towards Tristan.

"I'm a fool," Eithne finally spoke. "Everyone was right, everyone who looked me with pity and despair and told me I was making a terrible decision-- they were right. I thought I could do it... I thought I could save Malconaire, save everyone who has always depended on my family but..." her voice broke with her next words, "I... can't."

"Its mine... its supposed to be mine," Eithne turned, looked to the statue depicting her father, turned back to Tristan. "My father trained me my entire life to succeed him, to be the caretaker of this place and it was all ripped away from me, my," she pointed towards herself to emphasize the point. "My birthright. And now they have it and they're killing it-- my home. And it does not matter what I do, not matter how many conditions I make, no matter if Cassimir forces his mother out of the house it doesn't matter... she'll still be there, whispering in his ear, telling him lies about me."

"I know I'll never love him," Eithne could hardly stop the words from coming out of her mouth now. "But i thought one day we might be happy enough. I thought we might have children and I could find joy in them but she will get her claws into them, into my children... and they won't be mine. I'll have nothing..."

Eithne suddenly felt like she couldn't breath, that everything was crushing her-- the world, the future she'd created for herself,even the clothes she wore. Suddenly she was pawing at her hair, fumbling for the pins holding its intricate style, throwing them at the feet of her mother's statue like some absurd offering. One after another hitting the ground with a tiny metallic clink, she made work of ruining the all of Roisin's painstaking work.

She turned back to Tristan when she'd finished her work, her hair hanging down around her face. She nearly laughed. She must look like a wild, unkempt woman-- just who the Emperor thought they all might be here in Astaira.

"You must think me mad."

[forgottentristan]

The air was too close. He could not breathe. Valentina's boastful tones; Cassimir's abrasive ones. Their barbs were meant for other ears -- for Eithne and for Arthur, respectively, he did not doubt -- but just as stifling to his ear as to theirs.

Tristan had received an invitation, of course, as had the rest of his kin, but from amongst them, he was well aware that his presence was least desirable from amongst his clan: he, alone, had nothing to give, and thus nothing that could possibly tempt Valentina's interest. He did not, however, regard this as a fault but, rather, it was a privilege. Tristan had little wish to entertain Valentina's interest. It was not for her that he had come.

Even now, well into the evening, Malconaire seemed to glow. The crescent moon hovered above, a strange reminder of his own heritage, illuminating the great green tree of Malconaire, silhouetted against the heavenly fixture, an oak so massive it dwarfed even the great house which was its satellite. Shaking himself, Tristan inhaled. Though spring crept back into the world, the night was crisp with only silver moonlight and red torches from inside to cast long shadows everywhere around him.

This was a dark mood, he knew it well. He meant to shrug it off, leave it discarded here amongst the black night. He knew the stiffness of his limbs, what sternness must be written upon his face. It was not the visage he could -- or would -- present here at Malconaire. Leaning back against the house, eluding its great windows to find cool stone to his back, he let his head tip back to feel the hard stone pillow behind him, watching his breath frosting in the chill night air. For a moment, he thought of Kolchis, the Kolchis of his childhood, eyes fluttering shut, the skeletal tree which had given feeble shelter, the cold stone that had so long pillowed him, and that same moon casting its pale luminence over all.

Footfalls from inside, rapid, coming this way. Pushing off the wall, Tristan breathed out, hoping to press whatever ill was in his heart out with the single frigid breath, as a figure burst into the moonlight. Silver light pooled around her like a mist, as if she wore the radiance of the moon as her cloak and sparkling in her thick, dark curls, her very skin shining with its pure light, Tristan stood transfixed. Her back was to him, face turned towards the dark. It was a private moment he intruded upon, he saw, and her breathing was strange, his whole chest giving a clench as he wondered if she had overheard the same odious words he had, as anger sprang upon him once again, hot yet icy in his chest.

"Eithne," he whispered, coming towards her from the sheltering shadows of the house. He stopped himself. He ought to show more respect. He had never said her name, only her name, aloud to her before. He hadn't meant to do it at all.

She turned suddenly, facing him, eyes wide with surprise, yet she came forward, gentling, face turning up to his, her eyes bright as the sky at morning, and her look was long. He did not move. Did not breathe. Her touch was a shock. Her hand slipped into his. Softly, his fingers twined with hers. Her skin was so warm. He was so cold. Her eyes were shining, brighter than the moon. He bent towards her. Her lips looked soft, pink like the first glimpse of dawn breaking over the heavy mantle of night. He might have kissed her. He stopped.

Her hand closed fully around his, but when she spoke it was not a command. It was a plea. And, willingly, he complied. They sheltered soon in a grove, the shadows lying stark upon the ground like dark towers upon a bed of oaken leaves. All around them, trees danced with tall statues, mostly individuals that seemed to trace back and back and back through the centuries, yet well tended for all the wear that time had wrought upon them. Most of the statues were solitary, sporting only a tree for company, yet Eithne brought him to the edge of one which stood out from the rest -- here lay a stone lady, senseless in her peace upon a slab of marble. Over her stood a man, his face etched in heartbreak, the couple caught forever in a moment of perpetual parting, sheltered by the newest of the trees, younger, he would guess, than Eithne, herself.

Looking around himself, Tristan licked his lips. "What is this place?" he whispered, but he thought perhaps he already knew. The House of Calainon burned their dead, but he could hardly think of a more fitting end for a Malconaire than to be placed in the earth, pillowed by the roots of a great, growing oak.

Yet, all such thoughts were forgotten as she began to speak. She took a few steps away from him, first, and one back, and her voice was half-strangled with emotion. He closed the gap between them again.

"You're not a fool, my lady," he said. "I--I know the ache of an untenable choice, of...Every choice is the wrong one. I would not wish that feeling on anyone. It doesn't make you a fool." Impulsively, he took her hand again, eyes searching hers. "You are a brave woman, my lady. Far braver, I think, than anyone knows. Brave enough to keep going -- or brave enough to make a different choice, if that is what you need: brave enough to follow your heart, wherever it may lead, no matter how hard either path may prove to tread."

Her voice cracked. The sound was an ache, a rip that settled into his ribs, his breathing an, unthinking, he reached up and unclasped his cloak, putting it around her shoulders, and fastening it around her against the cold, turning her face up towards his. "You are not alone," he whispered, thumb running along her chin in thoughtless caress, his voice soft as the wind. "You are not alone."

She turned away, his hands falling away from her frame. He burned where the connection had been snapped. Her eyes turned up towards the statue, the sorrowful face of a man too wounded ever to heal completely seeming to meet hers. She spoke of her father, of her birthright, of her home, and the loss of all as one. And here, too, laid out in stone before them, was another loss, too, rolled in with the others as a final wretched sorrow. Tristan swallowed hard against a lump growing in his throat.

For a moment, his thoughts rambled back in time, back to his grandmother, back to her grief, her bony fingers caressing the white, ruined marble of the once-palatial temple they called home, crying out against a world of injustice soon to bring her to her bitterest doom. Tristan stared up at the statue of the man, again. A raven perched on one shoulder. Bran, he thought. It was one of the few Astairan words he knew, learned when hearing it said as the banners of his nephew were displayed across the land.

"What would it take," asked Tristan softly. "To put all back to rights? In a perfect world...What would it require?" But what was ever the cost of hope? It was justice she needed. It was justice she could not find here.

He thought of his winnings, the gift he'd meant to give her for her wedding. It would not fix things here, he knew. It was not near enough, but perhaps it might ease her troubles, now. In this world -- no one knew better than someone who had started life thieving and begging for bread -- money was power. And Eithne, he saw, felt powerless. That was a cruel thing, he well knew, but she was not as she believed.

"I'll have nothing..." The words rang in his ears. "I'll have nothing..."

She reached up to her head, plucking pin after pin from her hair, letting her carefully crafted tresses down in a cascade of pooling, dark curls. "I'll have nothing..." In her hands, the pins beamed like starlight and she cast them down, down, raining like dazzling lightning upon the stone figure below her. "I'll have nothing..." A swan reclined at the prone woman's side, a crown encircling its long, white neck. "I'll have nothing..." Star-studded, the statue gleamed, and Eithne's glossy locks hung about her shoulders, framing the delicate proportions of her face. "I'll have nothing..." His cloak ripped from her shoulder, exposing her delicate flesh, pooled, shadowy, to one side, darkness at her feet.

"I'll have nothing..."

It boomed, low and hollow and desperate. "I'll have nothing..." A cold chill thrummed through each word, funeral bells tolling upon a roaring pyre. "I'll have nothing..." Mortuary words spoken in the dark, spoken at the foot of a grave. "I'll have nothing..."

It would be easy, he knew, easy to end this for her. She need never know. Valentina would seem only to choke, a tragic end to the night, and Cassimir, in his grief, would turn catatonic. He would not die, but he would never fully wake. With no male relatives to take over, the lord's sister and fiancée would be left with the keys of Malconaire. She would have everything.

Great god, forgive me, begged Tristan, bowing his head. It was the darkness in his heart, and his fist clenched at his side. His lungs revolted, burning with the horror of the thought, heart recoiling with a wretched leap. But he knew he'd still do it if she ever asked it of him.

"My winnings," he blurted. "They are yours. Do not tell your stepmother or your fiance of them. Keep them and use them as you wish -- I'm the queen's brother, I've more than enough, I assure you: do not make yourself uneasy on that point. I'll send for them in the morning. It's not enough, I know, but it is something and I can have it in liquid as soon as tomorrow morning, 90,000 crowns. I meant to give them to you for your wedding, anyway. Let them ease your way, now, instead. Whatever path you choose."

His brows arched in surprise at her final words. "Mad?" he laughed, a sound of surprise. Clearly she was not well acquainted with his own family. She'd have to do far more than that to disturb him by any strange actions. "I'd think you mad to be glad of such circumstances. I am only glad to see that you trust your honesty with me."

He paused, looked down, squeezed a swallow upon his tight throat. His gaze found hers. He didn't know the words, didn't know how to explain. He spoke, instead, with his heart. "A Queen's brother I may be, guardian to the Emperor, uncle to one who may someday rise to follow him, but your faith in me -- this, my lady, this is my greatest privilege. Callow titles mean nothing. I value the truth in your heart, and I will honor it. I pormise you that."

Her dress was torn, her slippers muddy, her hair undone, but somehow, she had never looked lovelier to him than she did now, her eyes afire, her skin aglow in the silver light, cheeks blooming beneath the sapphire of her eyes. Were his fealty not already sworn now, he thought perhaps he might have sworn himself to her.

Coming towards the tomb, then, Tristan knelt at her feet, gaze locked long upon her. Then, softly, he smiled, turned. Reverently he gathered her pins, one by one. Tiny seeds them seemed in his hand, now, his shadow cast over them, cool and almost sharp against his open palm. He thought of giving them to her, then, but he could carry them for her until such time as she wanted them, again. His hands were calloused, but her skin was perfect, soft as petals against his, and these were cold and sharp. They did not discomfit him, twinkling now like the stars of her eyes, a sharp caress against his skin.

He did not rise at once, turning his face up to her again. His fealty was sworn, already, but he could make an oath to her, all the same. "Tell me how I may help you, my lady. Whatever it is, I shall do it."

[forgotteneithne]

Eithne shook her head, but she couldn't find the words to make him understand that she didn't feel brave, she felt lost. She felt like a failure. But then he was wrapping his cloak around her and something about that simple act caught her off guard. The weight of the heavy wool had a calming effect in some way, made her feel cocooned and safe. She stared at Tristan as he brought his hand up to her face, his fingers caressing her in a way she would have tried quickly to extract herself from if it had been her future husband standing in front of her. She thought it might be a comfort to have Tristan's arms wrapped around her, holding her against him, feeling protected from the future for a moment in time.

She stepped away from him at that thought. Eithne might not love Cassimir, but she could not think such things about a man in which she was not engaged.

"What would it take?" she repeated, her voice shaking as she spoke. "For me to have been born a son. For my father to be alive again."

She stopped, staring at Tristan, unblinking.

"For your Emperor to have never come here."

She could think of nothing. There was no way to help her. In every scenario, she would lose her home.

Eithne was shocked at Tristan's sudden proclamation that he would gift her his winnings-- not only that, but also that it had been his plan even before she'd given him her speech with so little warning. She had no words, could not think of how to respond. It was generous, kind, too kind.

"I value the truth in your heart, and I will honor it."

Eithne was sudden filmed with an overwhelming sense of sadness at Tristan's words that she found hard to place. She thought if it were Cassimir standing in front of her, now, and how he might have reacted to her outburst in Tristan's situation. She did not imagine he would genuinely value her honesty-- frankly, she did not think he would value her truth in any circumstance. Would she ever, once she was Cassimir's wife, be able to express her emotions properly-- even in a less dramatic fashion as her outburst just now-- and actually be heard?

"Thank you..." she whispered, still standing surrounded by the hairpins she'd discarded around her. She stared at Tristan, even as he knelt down before her and began gathering the pins for her. It felt like that the forest had gone completely silent and she felt like there was more she wished to say but the words wouldn't come. The only though, a small one in the back of her mind, was that she wished there was a universe where her husband to be was even half as good a man as Tristan Calainon. Eithne found herself sinking slowly to the ground, gathering up his cloak that had fallen from her shoulders at some point. She clutched it to her as she sank back to sit at the base of her parent's statue, clutching his cloak against her chest.

"This is where the Lords and Ladies of Malconaire find their final rest," Eithne told him, harkening back to the first thing he had asked her when she'd dragged him into these woods. "... where my Mother and Father can be together once again. I... I find comfort, here... with them."

He could not help her, not any more that giving her his winnings would do. Short of overthrowing her step mother and future husband to claim Malconaire for his own, Tristan had much more important responsibilities to the Varmont empire than assisting one poor, unhappy woman.

Eithne wanted to stay there, hidden amongst the trees, until the party was through and the house was quiet again. How could she return, looking as she did? She could only imagine her step mother's face, seeing her coming in covered in dirty with her hair wild and unkempt. If it would not shame Malconaire as well, she thought she might return just to see Valentina's face.

"You cannot help me but just...stay with me, a bit longer," she wished to ask Tristan, but she did not.

"Let us just take all your winnings and run away," she suggested instead, letting out a bit of a laugh at the spontaneous suggestion. The smile on her face indicated it was all a bit of a game-- or that she had gone completely mad.

"Do you remember I told you once before that I have never left Astaira? I will need a guide and you… you have been so very many places.. Where shall we go first?" Eithne asked, leaning back against the cold stone of the statue’s base, her head turning to look to Tristan.

“If you could run away from everything, Tristan Calainon... where would you go?"

[forgottentristan]

For a moment, Eithne seemedalmost to sink into his touch, then, of a sudden, she backed away. Tristan's hand fell to his side, something cold and slick like melting ice seemed to chill his skin and he pressed his eyes shut as the cold of guilt washed up and up. What a fool he was -- and to heap upon her sorrows the need to push him away! His selfishness knew no bounds.

Clenching his jaw, he glanced down, then back again. "Forgive me, my lady."

Yet, still, his hand burned at his side where he had touched her.

Her eyes were accusing and, fists clenching at his sides, Tristan nodded. He accepted her blame. Without comment or reproof, he took it. It was true, after all. He'd come with him. He'd brought his here. How many innocents had he slaughtered for him? Her condemnation was only fair.

Silence lapsed between them. Tristan could no more send Roderick away than he could make her into a son or bring her father back to life. All he could do was stand where he was and share her sadness. He was no stranger, himself, to despair.

'There is never a lack of options,' Godfrey would say. 'For those willing to take the consequences.' But that was precisely why Tristan stood now in the darkness with Eithne, sharing in her sorrow, rather than reveling in the light with his brother. This, too, was a consequence, but it ws the sort Godfrey was unwilling to take. She might've done harm to Cassimir and thus spared herself -- instead she left him as he was and took the meager portion for herself.

"Thank you..." she murmured, pure astonishment a gleam in her shadowed eyes.

Tristan shook his head. "It is nothing," he said. A pause. He did not mean to belittle what she was feeling, only his contribution which, in truth was far too little in the face of an outrage far too great. "You would do the same, I think, in my place."

She sank to the ground, gathered his fallen cloak to her chest, and sat upon the base of the statue. Gingerly, he took up a spot by her side, taking in his surroundings with a curious eye as she spoke of them. "It seems a restful place, my lady. A comforting practice."

He had little experience of graveyards, in truth. Kolcheans burned their dead...and Tristan burned the living. He glanced towards the grass-and-leaf scattered ground at his feet. He made to clench his fist, half-closing it around her pins in his hand, and stopped, looking down at them as they gleamed in his hand, captured starlight in the firmament of his palm. He glanced up, returning to the world in which they lived and leaving behind, a moment, the horrors around that awful corner of his past.

"To keep such tangible ties to the ones you've loved and lost..." He had nothing, now, of his grandmother. He did not recall the sound of her voice, or even in truth how she looked saved the faintest of impressions. But he remembered the well and good the lessons she'd taught him -- and the way she'd made him feel. Those things had shaped him forever. "Do you wish to join them here, someday, when your own final rest comes upon you?"

Her suggestion took him by surprise and, with half a laugh, a startled yet intrigued sound -- he shrugged. "And what would you like first to see, Lady Eithne?" But hearing her question, he smiled, nodded. It was certainly one positive of Roderick's army. He narrowed his eyes, trying to imagine what might be worth seeing to someone who had grown up in paradise.

"First, I'll take you to Antilla -- I am Kolchean, after all, and very fond of the sea," at this a small smile. "And amidst those sparkling emerald waters I'll show you a profusion of colorful fish and vibrant coral and shells of great size and strangest shape. We'll walk ancient cobbled streets and admire tall buildings lime-washed and painted in pastels the same hues as the sky at dawn -- lilac and blush and moss and azure near as limpid as your eyes. I'll have them prepare you a special dish found only there -- its recipe a secret to outsiders, but consisting in fresh fish and exotic spices so rich you can taste them by scent alone. You'll never forget your first time sampling it, I promise you that," he laughed softly, meeting her eye. He knew as well as she that it was only a fantasy, a distraction, but he was glad to give it -- glad that he could. "Where would you like to explore next?"

Yet her next question knocked the smile from his face. He did not have to think, he knew at once, and he looked away. Here, he thought. To you. But he did not say it.

Instead, he shook his head, vainly sorting through his mind for another location before. looking back to her. "I don't know," he chuckled. "Somewhere new, I suppose. Somewhere I've never been." That was the old him who answered. The Tristan who still was seeking -- not yet the Tristan who had found something worth staying for.

[forgotteneithne]

Eithne stared at Tristan, wanting more than anything in that moment to go back to him, to wrap her arms around him and press her face against his chest and hide from the world in his embrace. She swallowed hard, looking down at the ground. "I-- I am sorry. You... you are so kind, so generous to me and I am raving at your like a mad woman. Your winnings..." she took a small step towards him. "I promise they will not be wasted. They will help the people here in Malconaire and they will not-- I will not forget this kindness you have done for them."

When Tristan sat next to her at the seat of her parent's tomb, Eithne felt a sense of ease and her grasp on his cloak loosened. She wished she might lean towards him, rest her head on his shoulder, but she did not. Instead she looked at the pile of hairpins in his hand and smiled.

"When the light hits it just right..." she reached her hand out towards his, tilting his wrist slightly until the moonlight made the pins in his hand twinkle. "It looks like you have a hand full of stars..."

Eithne's eyes fixated on the tombs of her Malconaire ancestors and thought of her own tomb in this glad one day-- the one she would share with Cassimir. She felt her breath catch in her throat at the thought, one which hadn't occurred to her until now. Would be ever deserve the honor of laying amongst those who had cared for Malconaire before him? Or would he be its ruin?

"I-- I don't know anymore," she answered truthfully. "At one point it gave me comfort, knowing I would be here with my father and mother, my grandmother..." Eithne's voice trailed off. She couldn't say more-- it would be unfair to Tristan, unfair to Cassimir to voice her worries. "I suppose it will be something Lord Malconaire and I will discuss... it is not his family's custom to be buried this way and..."

She stopped, unsure of how to finish. "I am to be his wife... and I will be expected to obey him."

But their discussion turned to imaginary travels and Eithne felt the tension that had grown in her entire being dissipate, even for a moment.

Eithne smiled, imagining the lands that Tristan described. The only seaside she had ever visited was Calleary and, lovely as it was, she imagined what Tristan described was much different. As he mentioned her eyes and Eithne was quickly looking away to hide the blush on her cheeks, she found she was happier in this moment planning trips she would never take with a man who could never take her there himself, as much as they both might wish it otherwise.

"That sounds heavenly," Eithne found herself smiling at the thought of it all. "Why would we go anywhere else when such a place exists? Perhaps we might just stay... wade in the waters, feel the sun on our faces..." Eithne let out a contented sigh at the thought

"Though..." she turned now, to look at the man sitting next to her, who had to be cold since she was still clutching his cloak like some sort of life raft in the sea. "I should like to see your home, Sir Tristan, since you have seen mine. It only feels fair, yes? So... perhaps we might go to Kolchis first before living out the rest of our days in Antilla, hmm?" she managed a small laugh at the idea.

"I suppose you shall get to do just that, see somewhere new, when the Emperor moves on to his next conquest," Eithne commented next, her eyes turning downward as she began picking at a string on the hem of her sleeve. She turned her head to Tristan after a few moments of silence and smiled sadly at him.

"I hope that will not be too soon. I will miss you when you go away. I think..." she paused, looking up at the trees creating a canopy above them. "I think Malconaire will miss you, too."

[forgottentristan]

He let out a short breath, shook his head. Raised his dark gaze to her bright one. "I applaud your generous impulse, my lady, but if I may...The person in need in Malconaire whom I most wish to help with these winnings is...you."

The word settled between them, suspended on empty air, never to be unsaid. Her eyes seemed to shine in the gleaming moonlight scene, a glow all their own as if lit by some sweet shine all her own. She was so beautiful, beautiful, yes, but so much more, too: it was her grace, her empathy glowing now in the dark, which made him wish to reach out to her and pull her to him, to hold him while the sobs he knew wished to come racked her frame. But he would not touch her. She did not wish it, and that came as little surprise to him. He stood aside, instead, grappling with words too dull to say what he really meant.

And then he moved again, and he broke the spell with another shake of his head. His fingers were all pins and needles; his gut too. He feared she would not much relish hearing what he meant to say. But he needed to say it, notwithstanding.

"I...I do not mean to imply that I can or should tell you what to do with it, nor do I mean to say that helping Malconaire will not in turn aid you but -- much as I do sincerely wish to do good here -- I do not mean to give this money to Malconaire. I mean to give it to you and, Lady Eithne, I want you to be selfish with it, whatever -- whatever form that may take. If that is helping others here, then I hope you will do that, but...if it is not...I hope you will not hesitate to do otherwise with it, in that case, as well."

Her fingers were satin-soft, cool and warm all at once, on his skin. Her hands were delicate things, long-fingered and impossibly white in the moonglow that refracted upon her skin almost as if she were alight, standing in sharp relief against his dark sleeves as she moved. He relaxed his wrist, allowing her to direct him swordhand as she pleased. He was a boy, again, in the training yard, but his instructors had never been so gentle, and never since had he allowed anyone to control his hands. Everything he had done, since, had been his own work. All but this. And now she was teaching him something antithetical to the arts of death he'd once learned. Her instruction was in wonder as stars sparkled in his hand.

Tristan's smile was a soft thing, and he turned to face her, but found her close, closer than he'd expected as she bent to turn his arm. "I remember the first time I ever saw you," he said, before he'd thought. "It was broad daylight on a late spring day, and white flowers were pressing upward everywhere, dotting the swaying grass. The day was a touch too warm, but in the shade of the trees it was cool, and as we came into the thicket, there you were, your face dappled with light and the shadows of trees. When you smiled, your whole face lit up in perfect happiness and I thought--" he stopped. He looked down, away.

He remembered how the breath had gone out of him, though she was smiling at Arthur and not at himself. But it hadn't mattered. Her joy was too beautiful. He remembered how, breathless, he couldn't look away. He remembered what he'd thought, too. I remember now what happiness feels like. He hadn't quite realized he'd forgotten it until that moment, dismissing his own misery and guilt as things merely to be borne. He'd forgotten till that moment that there was something more to strive for. Something worth fighting for. Something worth protecting. But with one look, she'd reminded him of it all. How his chest had ached, then. How it ached now.

Tristan sighed. He hadn't really meant to say any of that. He wished he could have it unsaid, now. But now he'd begun, wasn't it better simply to say it? Swallowing hard, he looked at her again. He needn't say all the truth, but he could tell her enough. "I thought that, there's a face that knows true joy. I thought -- I thought that when I...when I was at my worst, all I need do was remember that look. I--" he shook his head. "I was...deeply unhappy at that time, my lady, and you helped me remember that someday I'd know happiness again. Let me do the same for you, now, Lady Eithne. All my feel dark, just now, but I assure you, someday, and perhaps not very far away -- you will know that same joy again. And, what's more, it will mean more to you than ever it did before."

There was something she wasn't saying and he frowned softly. Though she had not said it, he thought he knew perhaps what it was. He thought perhaps he understood that, too. He nodded. "We are no longer permitted to burn our dead," he said. "It is not...not the way of the One God." He caught her eye, went on. "I cannot make out if I mind, in truth. Part of me still thinks there's something holy in being consumed, because it was what I was first taught, I suppose, but another part of me has grown to accept a new way of thinking. Though," he admitted, rubbing his jaw. "I do not think I should like to be sealed up in a box all of cold lead and stone, as the Varmonts are, but...I suppose in the end, our burial customs are not meant so much for us as they are for those we leave behind: whatever best comforts them, I expect, is the best respite we can, any of us, ever find. Perhaps our truest rest, in the end, is to be found in their memories."

Chuckling at her comment, he nodded, closing his eyes as he imagined what she described -- simple moments: her hand in his; her laughter at his ear; her eyes closed, head half tilted back to breath in the sunlight on her face. I love her so, he thought, unbidden, half-desperate, and his eyes opened once more. What a fool he was. She was marrying someone else and, even if she were not, it was not he whom she loved. But it did not stop him loving her. It did not even make him wish to try. All he wanted from it was to comfort her: to make that little difference in her life. That would be more than enough for him.

Despite himself, he couldn't help the way his heart gave a strange little leap when she spoke of Kolchis, nor his lips a little tug when she said she'd like to see his home. He felt breathless all of a sudden. It was a strange thing, how he missed Kolchis. It had not been a hospitable place to live, in retrospect, and their life had been full of troubles...Yet they'd been all of them together, then, hadn't they? Unified. A real family. That had been so, once, hadn't it? And it had been a simpler life, at least, and there was tooo the fact that no one had despised him simply for being Kolchean there. Everyone was, after all...Yet, here, she didn't seem to despise him for it, and that was its own sweet comfort.

But when it came to Kolchis, he could not indulge in imagination -- memory was too powerful.

"I always think of Kolchis at night," he said, voice half dreamy with memory. "My brother used to take me sometimes to stand upon the pebble shores near the harbour, there, and watch the moonrise. I've never seen a night so colorful as the ones there, nor have I seen the moonrise elsewhere like it did there -- coming up as surely as the sun rises in the morning. It was always best to visit at twilight. We would stand --" he laughed. "Well, I was so small: I would stand knee-deep in the rattling water, just past the edge of the surf so the smooth stones wouldn't strike the skin so hard. The ocean, there, was a cool electric blue-green during the day, but it turned to wine as the sky showed its colors. The moon floated up from the distant shore in tones of violet and crimson and midnight. The water would turn from sun-drenched warmth to moon-drenched cool as we stood there on those slick, smooth stones, and I used to wonder what lay behond the horizon, wonder what kinds of people lived in in the otherworlds beyond the water." He laughed, turned his gaze on her once again. "Now I know."

She plucked at her sleeve. She did not look at him when she spoke, and he was glad. He did not know if he could have hidden the wave of nauseous horror that rolled overhim at the thought, the sounds of screams, the too-sharp scent of fresh blood and the belly-turning smell of living flesh aflame. He stood, suddenly. Paced away, as if he could leave the horror behind him. But it was in him. He needed something else to focus on. The air was growing colder and he embraced that, walking to a nearby tree as if that had been his object all along, placing his empty hand upon it. The bark felt rough against his calloused hand.

"Yes," he owned. "I am sworn to go wherever the emperor commands me." But I do not know if I can stomach it any longer, he thought. He'd thought, once, he was swearing his life away to something better than he was. Now? He no longer knew what to think.

But she spoke again, turning her face now to look at him, eyes warm and bright as the sky at morning, and he ached, hed ached at her words. "I will miss you when you go away." He didn't speak. Not at once. He could hardly believe her. He could hardly breathe, hardly dare breathe lest he should somehow disturb the moment, and realize she meant something quite different, indeed. He knew it meant little enough to her, he wasn't so foolish as to imagine she meant anything more by her words than just what she said. This was no declaration of any special care beyond friendship, but even that was far more than he'd dared to hope, and he found his eyes were heavy with the revelation. He blinked, swallowed hard, and closed the distance between them, hand falling away from the bark forgotten.

"Will you?" he breathed.

He wanted to say much, so much, but he swallowed back the words heavy on his tongue and, instead, with a soft smile, simply said: "As I shall miss you, my lady."

And traitorously, terribly, little as he hoped to leave her and little as he hoped to go to war, he half-hoped he would be called away, if called away he must be, before her wedding. He did not know if he could stand by and watch her wed like this. But he could not stop it, either, not so long as she did not wish for it to be stopped.

"I think Malconaire will miss you, too," she said. He glanced around him, laid his flat palm against the bark, again. "Do you think so?" he whispered. "Is this not but a moment in the life of a tree?" he smiled at her. "I do not think Malconaire shall remember me, but I will be content if you will, my lady. I could ask nothing more."

[forgottentristan]

OOC | Tristan & Guinevere

ur sworn-shield/half-brother's uncle reporting for duty! lkajsdfklsdf so tristan is captain of the ~praetorian guard~ to roderick and his family!! he's frankly not ~that much older than guin, herself, (32 vs 26) and so i feel like he lowkey grew up amongst the royal kids, and so i feel like he cares abt each of them! but its also complicated bc obv lines are being drawn in house varmont and only edmund is ultimately his nephew, but also, according to his bio, guin is one of his closest friends and yeah!!!! weirdness!! lkasdjfkljsdfk

[forgottentristan]

also!! ik @forgottenguinevere 's bio says she's got a thing for him, but i should def say that he's pr head over heels for eithne, himself, so yeah idk if we wanna do anything w that or not but that's def a thing i should probs mention, too!

EDIT: (i gotta write these things down askldjfksdf my brain is a messy place it can't keep things straight) in disco we decided that they had a teenage romance but now are v solidly good, even best, friends <3

[forgottenguinevere]

Hello hello!!!! Ahaha, I just saw you edited this with our disco conversation, but yes! Tristan and Guin as teens learning how to love and now becoming best friends is everything to me!!! They almost certainly were the CUTEST when they were young, probably mooning and giggly and like very obnoxious in a super precious way. I also had a thought that maybe Tristan was the first person to give her forget-me-nots and is a big part of why she like ~associates with them or smth! I'm also, tbh, now wondering if Guin has told Tristan about her feelings for Alistair??? I think it kind of depends on what Tristan's voiced opinion on Alistair would be? Or, of course the other option is that Tristan has, yknow, eyes.... And maybe has put two and two together on his own?

[forgottentristan]

oh man i love the idea of tristan having been the first one to give her forget-me-nots!! honestly v on point move for him, too!! (oh man also if @forgottenalistair knows that tristan's the source of that symbol and it means sm to her its on her sigil and everything, that's yet another piece of evidence in his eyes for them being in love *facepalm* but anywhooo!)

tristan was def a v over-eager and earnest young lover hahah he was v much searching for smth of meaning to hurl himself into wholeheartedly in his youth and love was probs one of the things he tried out. obv that didn't work out between them, but they did find a friendship for life! honestly tho he's a good all-round guy he was probs a v good first boyfriend hahaha v dependable and respectful and thoughtful and protective, etc, bc frankly that's just who he is!!

i ~do think he was a slightly rebellious choice for sidepiece tho honestly bc, while roderick is married to his sister, tristan ~is from kolchis and ovn-ians are frankly pr xenophobic so yeah he's faced a lot of prejudice based on that for most of his life and yeah guin throwing in w him despite that!!

ooooh, im honestly down either way!! tristan's a good secret keeper, you will NoT have to worry abt him blabbing so he'd be a v reliable person to trust w smth like that tho i def think he'd be surprised frankly hahaha (idk that ~either of them really see it frankly hahah but there def are similarities between tristan and alistair!)

that being said, i do think his views on alistair have...evolved, and i don't think for the better honestly? roderick really showed his true colors w the astairan conquest in some terrible ways and tristan really went through it (you can read more abt that [ here ] if you feel so inclined! tho you can probs skip the first 5-11 paragraphs if you aren't too concerned abt the geography of astaira and just assume that there's a lot of space between armies and some ppl are trapped in some parts of the country separated from other etc, and yeah fully can skip the first ~11 if you wanna just go straight for the trauma in which case just know the pyre walk was roderick burning accused witches to death in a line down every path he walked -- think the execution of spartacus and his men lining the streets to rome meets vlad the impaler but w fire kinda thing) and frankly his opinion went down of every single person involved w roderick's war machine, himself absolutely included in a v big way!!

ofc he doesn't know that alistair is currently nursing doubts of his own, etc, but he does know that alistair is a key lynchpin in the war operation and yeah!! he aint feeling too good abt that rn!! (tbf tho ~tristan ultimately was way more involved in the pyre walk than alistair who didn't deal w that it deF wans't a strategy thing that was just roderick going rogue bc he was angry abt various other stuff) BUT!! yeah idk that tristan is fully aware of that so yeah!! he's def a lil leery of alistair, id say, atm! (tho don't get me wrong im sure alistair has done some shady stuff himself asp bc...that's just serving under roderick for ya honestly klajdskljf)

so yeah!! ig his reaction depends on when he was told/found this out? if it was before the astairan war it was probs a much more positive reaction than if it was after! hahaha im also equally open to him either being told or just picking up on vibes!

[forgottenguinevere]

LMAO, almost certainly a big reason Guin fell for Tristan is because he was a rebellious choice to fall in love with. Obvi he is also very handsome and very kind, so like, those were the main ones, but she is a Foxe, yknow!!! There's a part of her that likes to be tricksy and to thumb her nose, esp at her father! But I do really believe Guin thinks so fondly of their time together and is so very glad that they managed to find friendship with each other even when the romance had withered away as teen romances tend to do. He's still so very very important to her! They've been through so much! (like Tristan was DEF her first kiss, and it probably was TERRIBLE but still!) I think she relied on Tristan a lot for comfort as she was navigating being brought into the spotlight of Roderick's attentions as a Political Pawn when she became a teen, and maybe to some extent that was vice-versa in the direct aftermath of the Pyre walk and everything? Like maybe Guin tried to be there a lot for him and help remind him that not everything in the world and in life was the horrors and that he did have goodness and kindness in him even if he had to do terrible things? (Tbh Guin would have absolutely found his actions to be good in context. It wasn't worth it to get himself killed to fully go against orders, but he tried his best to give people choices and peace!!! That's goodness!)

I do think with the context of the pyre walk tho, I think Guin *would* be more wary about telling him of her feelings towards Alistair. I don't think Guin fully grasped what her feelings actually were until she and Alistair had be corresponding for a long time and how excited and relieved she had been to see him returning to the imperial palace unharmed, which iirc would put that in the timeline AFTER the astarian war???? So bc of that, I think she's aware to some extent of Tristan's opinions and like PTSD regarding it all and would probably read the room correctly that talking too extensively about Alistair might at least distress and at most trigger Tristan - which Guin would want to avoid at all costs. Now, is she capable of not mentioning him at all at least once a conversation? Absolutely not. Hahaha. So I do think it's still possible that if you wanted Tristan to put two and two together, it wouldn't be hard for him to do so at all. And tbh she'd really take his opinions into consideration! She'd take them and consider them and probably toss them right out the window, but there'd be a moment she thought about any of his concerns!!!!! But also as far as most everyone knows, Guin is engaged to be married to Eoin Varmont and she's.... probably???? Happy about it??? So like maybe that muddles things for Tristan too!

[forgottentristan]

guin said 'put that in ur pipe and smoke on it!' no, but im guessing??? it was a (tho probs not sm from her siblings or possibly @forgottenalaric id venture?) secret, bc i ~do feel like roderick would've been like THATS ENOUGH OF THAT as soon as he heard! he does NOT want his daughter w a foreigner (tho its ok when ~he does it! lakjsdfjkdsf) and also he does noT like it when ppl from two different factions get too cozy soooo yeah! lotsa reasons this wouldn't fly for him lakjdsfjksdf tho, im also open to that being how it ended too! b ut yeah he'd be v suss of their friendship, now, if he knew they'd once been an item?

yesss honestly i def think they've evolved into great friends atp!! and def v much value eo and their opinions, etc!

one thing they might disagree on, tho, is her team arthur stance -- tristan's team 'lets all just calm down and get some family therapy rather than killing eo ok everybody?' even tho therapy tragically doesn't exist alkjsdfjsdf but yeah he's kinda on roderick's shit list atp for saying things like 'maybe there's a better solution than a civil war' and 'lets not burn human beings to death!' and then, worse, tryna interfere w all that when roderick ignored him alksjdfjkdf plus yknow the whole xenophobia thing lkajsjdfadsf really a delicious cocktail he's got going there fun just sm fun lakjsdfjdsf but yeah if tristan ~was forced to pick a side like...he would go team edmund i mean that kid is his nephew and he loves him and he'd fight like hell to stop him from facing down the possibility of being murdered by his own brother and yeahh

yessss tristan is an excellent shoulder to lean on! not much he couldve done other ~than be leaned on, but he def would've been there for her every step of the way!! the pyre walk, tho, only happened two years ago, so it wouldn't have been concurrent w her teen years, as she woul'dve been 24 at the time of the pyre walk, but!! yes he def would've valued emotional support in the aftermath of all that! he's generally a pr quiet guy and i don't see him talking abt it or wanting to, but her just ~being there~ would've been a big deal to him!

ok so i was getting a lil confused abt timing as i was writing the above so i made a [ timeline ] for our boy, which im hoping will be helpful for us both hahaha but yeahhhh i realized that, sadly, its not really possible, given the age gap (which is apparently a full six years!), for this to be a ~mutual teen romance hahaha and honestly i just don't see a 22yo ~tristan romancing a 16yo guin hahaha so maybe this took place when she was more like 20/22? which would've made him 26/28? i def think roderick doesn't let his daughters have much freedom/fun so that could still be v believably her first real romance, if you still want that, and if not we can probs dig up someone a lil closer in age and/or someone who'd be more down for an age gap when she's younger but yeah sadly that guy is not tristan -- he thinks a lot abt duty and honor and responsibility and yeah i just don't quite see that working for him sadly tho he def still would've been grade-a (one-sided) crush material for her when she was that age, if you like!

but yeah, the purpose of making the timeline was actually figuring out the whole ~pyre walk~ situation and i worked out that the pyre walk probs started at the end of the year 1289 Original Calendar/27 Age of Roderick (yes that man started his own calendar beginning w his rise to emperor smdh), when tristan would have been 28, and ended two years ago w the surrender of astaira. if we ~do make their romance a more recent thing, there ~could have been some overlap w their relationship and the whole pyre walk incident, and frankly i can see ~that having been a reason he would have broken things off, if we want -- he was no longer considering himself a good enough person to be w her and she deserves someone who is! hbut he'd tarnished himself and he couldn't ever get back to being the person he was before and frankly there's nothing anyone could've said to convince him otherwise so yeah there's a lil angst if we want it lakjsfjksdf

i do think that was the darkest period of his life, the pyre walk and the time following it etc and he's doing a lot better now, but yeah he deffff came back from that war v changed and yeahh her being patient w him probs meant a lot but i def think he was v much in push everyone good away mode and yeahh SOB it was probs rather bleak for everyone involved alas. idk that he ever told her exactly what happened, but it probs is out there for her to find out bc he wasn't tryint to conceal it, either, and obv she's got a loT of ppl she knows in the military including ~all her brothers and father and alistair and so on and so forth hahaha so yeah if you want her to know i def think that's super possible!

that makes total sense! so, following the surrender of each new nation, everyone returns to court for some partying and r&r, so she'd have a chance to see him for a bit at the end of each war...before her father inevitably invaded another country and it was off again and yeah bc women and warzones do not mix in roderick's world! so yeah any of those times could def serve!

but yeah, esp if she just can't keep herself from mentioning him, and if we still want there to have been a romance here at one time, tristan ~is probs familiar w how she looks when she's thinking of her crush and so forth, so i do think it wouldn't be too tough for him to put two and two together...he's probs a big concerned abt it bc like i said i do think he believes that alistair's probs partially responsible for the pyre walk (he's not!) so ~that's a sticking point for him bc he genuinely wants the best for her and he's pr clear on the fact that someone who'd ~plan to burn thousands of innocent ppl to death just to get a quick surrender out of a place/get them to profess your beliefs out of fear of what'll happen if they profess their own (which is what he thinks happened) isnt it! aljsdfjksdf

yeahhh he'll probs feel the whole eoin feelings chapter came out of left field and feel kinda blindsided by it frankly! but probs relieved honestly if he's buying what she's selling bc like...at least eoin didn't plan the horrific slaughter of thousands of innocent civilians so!! that's def an improvement!! h e ~is her cousin which isn't but...if those're the choices lajksdfkjsdjf oh well! laksjdfjksdf

[forgottentristan]

TIMELINE

year 1245 – birth of roderick

year 1246

year 1247 – birth of marian

year 1248

year 1249 – birth of amira

year 1250

year 1251

year 1252

year 1253

year 1254

year 1255

year 1256 – birth of godfrey

year 1257

year 1258 – birth of alaric, death of queen millicent in childbirth

year 1259

year 1260

year 1261 – aged 0 – birth of tristan in kolchis

year 1262 – aged 1 – roderick becomes king, war breaks out w antilla thus inadvertently starting roderick’s world conquest

year 1263 OC/1 AR – aged 2 – surrender of antilla, roderick is crowned emperor, surrender of kolchis, meeting of roderick and amira, fighting breaks out with kvenheim

year 1264 OC/2 AR – aged 3 – birth of eoin, roderick officially reinstates the old ways and weds amira

year 1265 OC/3 AR – aged 4 – roderick weds marian

year 1266 OC/4 AR – aged 5 – surrender of kvenheim, roderick invades vinetta

year 1267 OC/5 AR – aged 6 – birth of guinevere, arthur, ciara, surrender of vinetta, roderick invades malakarta

year 1268 OC/6 AR – aged 7 – birth of sebastian, tristan becomes a page to godfrey

year 1269 OC/7 AR – aged 8

year 1270 OC/8 AR – aged 9 – birth of edmund, surrender of malakarta, roderick invades aarnu

year 1271 OC/9 AR – aged 10 – birth of cassandra

year 1272 OC/10 AR – aged 11 – death of elaine to unknown illness during the early stages of pregnancy

year 1273 OC/11 AR – aged 12 – surrender of aarnu

year 1274 OC/12 AR – aged 13 – roderick invades argadara

year 1275 OC/13 AR – aged 14 -- tristan becomes a squire to roderick

year 1276 OC/14 AR – aged 15

year 1277 OC/15 AR – aged 16 – surrender of argadara, roderick invades xangadu

year 1278 OC/16 AR – aged 17

year 1279 OC/17 AR – aged 18

year 1280 OC/18 AR – aged 19 – surrender of xangadu, roderick invades aotepo

year 1281 OC/19 AR – aged 20

year 1282 OC/20 AR – aged 21 -- tristan is knighted by roderick

year 1283 OC/21 AR – aged 22 – surrender of aotepo, roderick invades alytar

year 1284 OC/22 AR – aged 23

year 1285 OC/23 AR – aged 24 – surrender of alytar, roderick invades affaraon

year 1286 OC/24 AR – aged 25

year 1287 OC/25 AR – aged 26

year 1288 OC/26 AR – aged 27 – surrender of affaraon, roderick invades astaira

year 1289 OC/27 AR – aged 28 -- siege of kil-kennar, conflagration of the fens, the pyre walk begins

year 1290 OC/28 AR – aged 29

year 1291 OC/29 AR – aged 30 – battle of malconaire, siege of stafford, conquest of astaira

year 1292 OC/30 AR – aged 31

year 1293 OC/31 AR – aged 32 – ice ball, riots, hangings, tournament, the present

[forgottentristan]

Days in the Sun | Tristan & Alaric

The day was warm, half-glowing with heat, as the two men paced about. Nominally, this was a patrol, but Tristan and Alaric often made time to spend together, where they could, as often enjoying silent companionship as talking. In truth, though both boasted elder brothers, they were almost more siblings to one another than to those men, being so much closer in age and, truthfully, in demeanor and outlook as well, it seemed these days.

That there was something troubling Alaric about Roderick's forthcoming marriage was not mysterius to Tristan: what it was which troubled him, however, was, though he had managed to suss out who it was. Alaric did not speak well of Eilionora. He did not speak ill of her either. Had he done the first, he might have imagined Alaric admired her; had he done the latter, Tristan might have imagined a different sort of admiration. Besides, it seemed Alaric's interest was very much engaged elsewhere. But frequently bringing her up, only to fall silent, was strange, indeed, and Tristan did not quite know what to make of it.

Lately, however, he thought perhaps he had come upon the key issue: Alaric did not approve of his brother's treatment of her and her sister, but he did not wish to do his brother the dishonor of saying so. Tristan knew that pain well: it was practically a daily struggle of his regarding his own sister. Alaric, it seemed, had done what he could to rectify the situation. Someone had replaced the old, cast-off drapings from Arthur's chambers in the Staffords' tower to help shelter them from the cold (and was it not just like Alaric to do such a thing without claiming the credit of it?), and Tristan often observed Alaric rattling around with one or the other of them in the gardens, allowing the ladies to stretch their legs. It spoke well of him, Tristan thought, that he took such care where his brother did not, and Tristan found himself not for the first time thinking, treasonously, how much better off the empire might be, had it been Alaric, and not Roderick, who had been the elder of the two brothers.

"I believe that the Ladies Eilionora and Aria are much more comfortable in their rooms since they were fitted with those new hangings," he said idly, thinking that, if Alaric had indeed been the architect of the gift, that he ought to know how the thing progressed, that it gave comfort. And even if he were not, it might rest his conscience a touch on behalf of his brother's ill deeds. "Even the guards outside the door tell me it is much more hospitable up there, since that time." Tristan paused, glanced towards his friend, then away again. "It was thoughtful, indeed, to rectify that oversight. I'm glad its done. Dangerous though their position in the eyes of the people may be to His Majesty the Emperor, I do not believe them to be cold in their hearts."

Yet, he could not deny that his own sympathies had been well and truly awakened to the plight of Astairans, everywhere. It was a good thing that Roderick was no longer burning innocents to death in the streets, surely, but beyond that things seemed not much to be improving for those who lived here. If anything, he thought matters had only grown worse for them of late...He looked quickly away, thoughts turning swiftly to Eithne, her tears gliding in sweet silver streaks down her face in the pale moonlight. His chest constricted, his throat grew tight, and he curled his fists at his sides. For some time, Tristan had struggled with all of this. He hadn't told a soul of his feelings for her, not wishing to set himself up as a rival to Prince Arthur, but also not wishing to press the lady into a romance he did not suppose she would favor with himself.

Still, he knew now without shdow of a doubt, that Eithne was most certainly not happy in her circumstances, and with lurid tales now spreading, regarding the emperor's own sons, he felt there must be something someone could do for their prsent relief. He'd offered her his winnings, but that was paltry and impossible in the face of her needs. But he hardly knew what else do to.

"Alaric," he said, suddenly, stopping in his tracks. "I need advice." He exhaled, flushing as he glanced away. He hardly knew where to begin, or even how to say what he wished to say. "The situation at Malconaire..." He sighed, shook his head. He had no doubt Alaric had heard the rumors of the pregnancies, and he had no intention of dignifying them with a recitation, nor spreading them further, had he not heard. He did not elaborate. "What can be done to help? You know, yourself, that I would often accompany our nephews there. There was no misconduct, I assure you."

He began to walk again. "I fear His Majesty has been terribly misinformed, and he will not hear me..." He'd been quick to dismiss Tristan's opinions on such 'soft-hearted' matters, since his objections to the Pyre Walk. "I fear that decisions are being made in haste," he began, diplomatically. "That might be better served being made at length."

It was only the beginning of what he wished to touch upon but...it was a begining, at least. He did not know how to speak on Lady Eithne's unique troubles...but he would find his way there, he was sure. He must.

[forgottenalaric]

ooc | Alaric & Tristan

These guys definitely know each other, since their siblings are married to each other! Plus Godfrey & Alaric are pretty good friends.

I feel like Alaric & Tristan might be friends? They definitely know each other, given that their siblings are married & Alaric and Godfrey are friends!

I do feel like their relationship might be a little complicated, because Alaric does NOT trust Amira at all and even though he and Godfrey have gotten to be friends, he doesn't fully even trust Godfrey, either. (He knows that there may eventually be a line drawn in the sand and Alaric knows that he and Godfrey will be on different sides of the Edmund vs Arthur war)

But despite his friendship with Tristan's brother, I think that Alaric might actually trust Tristan the most out of the Calainons? He seems more straightforward/honorable/honest/genuine that either of his siblings and from what Alaric has gathered from their past, this makes sense that Tristan was spared a lot of the hardships/trauma the other two went through and he isn't as ~hard~ as either of them. Plus, I do think that Alaric knows that Tristan takes his vow as captain of the kingsguard v seriously!

That being said, Alaric isn't 100% sure where Tristan would land if war ever broke out amongst the family (although he suspects it would be w/ Edmund for obvious reasons). Still, Alaric doesn't think that Tristan would ever be involved in anything underhanded??? Like, Alaric is certain that he will always know exactly where he stands with Tristan, even if they happen to be on opposite sides???

All this is to say, is that I do think that Alaric would like Tristan a good deal and might even be a little more relaxed around him than he otherwise would be, since I think that Godfrey def knows how to loosen Alaric up a bit?? (Although if Amira is around Alaric is super tense lmao so it all depends on the company I guess).

[forgottentristan]

Awwww i love the idea of these two as friends!!! plus, like...i feel like they lowkey grew up together/in similar positions, since they're three years apart and would've been like...lets see i think amira is ~11 years older than tristan so tristan was just a little guy when she married roderick, bc ~she was quite young at the time iirc, so honestly the three years would've been big at that time, but alaric was probs ~still the person closest to his own age (despite also obv outranking him ofc,) for him to like tryna play w etc

so like!! i can def see him being like DAMN THAT MUCH OLDER DUDE IS SOOOOO COOL (meanwhile that much older dude is probs like 9 or smth -- i haven't looked up the timelines so im not sure exactly on ages but you feel me hahaha -- but anyway ;DDDD) and iirc they would've been brothers-in-law from childhood which i would guess would probs see them behaving effectively like cousins for lack of a better comparison hahaha esp w a mutual nephew coming along when they're 9-15ish (again no math was done for this comment i do apologize hahah its too early in the morning for that aldjsfakljdsf) to really bind them inextricably together as family but ANYWAY!! my point here is that i feel like lil tristan probs thought alaric was the coolest thing since sliced bread and probs tries to follow him around/imitate him/play w him a lot esp bc the closest person to his own age he'd had before was ~godfrey whose even older than alaric yknow? i do feel like, as a result of like...the only ppl around him were sm older, tristan was always a really mature lil kid but yeah!! it was probs just really fun to have another lil guy to run around with!

i also feel like they also had a pr similar upbringing in that it was, in both cases, them w basically just their big brother against the world. in tristan's case, he also had a sister and gm, but they were much less involved yknow? but they also were destitute whereas alaric and roderick were in a palace, so like at once similar but VERY different as well, w the general sense that like...the world is dangerous. tbh idk if that'd necessarily ~endear them to e/o bc instead its this moment of watching before you dare attach urself to someone, but it would at least give a similar pov ig????? or at least one that the other could each recognize and understand

so yeah!!! basically i totally agree!!! and i do think tristan's main thing is that...he thinks its in EVERYONES best interest to try to avoid a war and, while it is def roderick's duty and responsibility, i think he's starting to see that that's never gonna come from him, so i do think tristan's starting to look around at the heirs, themselves, and their factions and be like 'heyy, soo do we think we can find a way to figure this out for ourselves' basically arthur and amira: 'ridiculous' laksdjfkjlsdfjk but anyway i do think tristan is also ~very conflicted abt what he'd do were war to break out bc he's kingsguard and there're three competing kings yknow and his vows say he needs to protect them each but how can he protect them all from e/o? plus then there's his own heart like???? edmund he loves like his own!! but he does ~also care for the others too (tho ngl not nearly as much...sorry, guys! lkjasdklfjjskf) like ideally no one is getting hurt plus, lets say ~that weren't an issue, yknow, what would it do to edmund to kill his own brother like??????? that is objectively horrible!!! tristan wouldn't want his worst enemy to have to go through that, little less someone he loves! and that doesn't even ~touch on the human cost to the ~entire empire~ and thus thousandsa dn thousand of ppl given how a civil war would DECIMATE the common ppl of the realm like...this is a literal DISASTER waiting in the wings...not that tristan knows abt godfrey's apocalypse goals but if he did he'd be like 'why craft a new one? this coming war is sure to prove one in its own wretched way' basically

i do also think that, like...guin seems destined for a jane grey situation, where she's forced by power hungry ppl into basically being their sacrificial lamb on the altar of their own self-aggrandizement, and we've talked a lot abt edmund and arthur's ~whole situation~ and i think tristan sees this all coming for all of them and he's desperately tryna fight a losing battle here to protect them all but no one kingsguard can protect them from a threat this massive and insideous and yeah!!!!! but he's def trying!!!! we can put aside these seeds of discord now!!!! we can create a better world before the worst one ever comes for us!!!!1 (meanwhile ~both his siblings working against him whoops)

i think ive mentioned this before, but i do think tristan was pancake number one for godfrey in terms of crafting his ~perfect prince~ to take power after godfrey destroyed all the evil in the world (in godfrey's head yknow) but i think from the start godfrey was a lil frustrated w how tristan was turning out like...he just doesn't see him as ~that guy~ the one who can make the tough choices to navigate the new world to its ideal position after all that's terrible has been wiped away yknow plus it was always gonna be an insane uphill battle to get tristan to power anyway (but i think godfrey believes it ~has to be someone of calainon blood) but still tristan he felt was his only choice (bc lbr he ~was clear that it was noT gonna be amira hahahaha) but then there was edmund, in both a better position AND of a better disposition to do the job godfrey had ordained for him.

but as a result i feel like godfrey had this super intense connection w and focus on tristan, yknow, he was his whole hope for the future of mankind right??? and then just...zero warning, nothing, he just...drops him like a hot potato, and tristan never knew what he was planning or anything he just knew that he went from having this deep connection and then...nothing at all and like!!!!! that left tristan feeling v lost and adrift so i feel like he went and attached himself to the first thing he could that felt like it meant smth...and that was, unfortunately, roderick and i think that he was still caught up in all those ideals yknow!!! when he swore himself to the kingsguard before he really got a peak under the curtain and saw what roderick ~truly was, esp as roderick has grown worse and worse and worse overtime and yeah!!!!! bc roderick has this machine purpose-built to scoop up lost young men and feed them into his military and yeah!!! the machine clearly works, he's used it to run roughshod over most of the world yknow, and tristan was one of those lost young men who got caught and now he's trapped, i feel like

so yeah!!! i know this does ~not answer your question but that's simply bc tristan does not have an answer for you!! rn he's just tryna forestall a war that he frankly can never stop, but he'll never be able to look edmund in the eye again if he doesn't try his v best for him!!!!! and he truly believes that tryna his best for edmund is tryna stop this from happening!!!

but yesssss!!!! i def think there's respect and, on tristan's side anyway, even admiration here bc i do think tristan can clearly see that alaric is not his brother! (tristan ~does know smth abt ~not being like ur siblings after all hahaha) and i think tristan, further, hopes that he can count on alaric as an ally to try and help him forestall all of this!!! but yeah even tristan does know this fight is largely hopeless, he just can't give up is all!

anyway this got stupid long im so sorry alksdjflkjsdjkf

[forgottenalaric]

Okay, but I didn't even think about how young these two were when they became brothers-in-law!!!! You're right!!

So Amira and Roderick were married 27 years ago, which means Alaric was 8 and Tristan was only 5, so yeah they were v little!!! And I do feel like, by 8, Alaric was trying to be seen "as an adult" (he wasn't) and was probably a little serious for his age -- but since Tristan was mature for his age and now ~family~ I can see where Alaric would have taken him under his wing a little???

And I'm also crying b/c i feel like Tristan actually helped give Alaric a childhood b/c I can see Alaric "playing ~with Tristan" and doing it "for" Tristan, but it was actually for the both of them and Alaric had more fun than he'd admit.

Also, poor Tristan!!! Having his older brother so invested in him and his future and then ~nothing!!! (Also Tristan was only 9 when Edmund was born, so like idk if Godfrey shifted immediately since Edmund was just in a better position or waited until Edmund got a little older and showed more promise?/ but either way, I feel like Tristan was still pretty young when that happened too!!)

It also makes sense that Tristan would then latch onto Roderick and, especially when they were young men, Alaric had really nothing bad to say about Roderick and probably helped with whatever perceptions Tristan ~did~ have about this being the right thing??

I feel like Alaric also believed Roderick's thing about him basically ~protecting~ and ~looking out~ for people and he did that by conquering their lands so that they could be under his care alsdjflasdfj (but also yeah Tristan and his siblings are all in a much better position for it, so it seems to be tracking as far as Alaric and Tristan can tell, too!)

I do think that Alaric is v much of the same mind as Tristan where he does NOT wanna see a war, but he is also thinking that it might be inevitable and I do think that his loyalty to Arthur/Marian might make him jump to take sides a little faster than Tristan would. But Alaric is also out here trying to make Roderick name an heir but ... it's not working out that well ;D

[forgottentristan]

roderick just out there continuously networking for this fam one way or another lakjsflkjdsfj (mostly by marriage and conquest unfortunately alkjdsflksdjf)

omg sophisticated 8yo taking artless 5yo under his sage wing!!!! ok but that's so cute honestly <3

LIL TRISTAN!

ok so thinking abt this all a bit more, i also feel like 5yo tristan was a really weird mix of things given his upbringing so far!

he believed in witchcraft, could do a lil palm reading and casting stones etc, he knew a lil abt healing, he could pickpocket and sleight of hand w the best of them and had def fed himself a good bit via these abilities, already (why am i now like "is there an au where adult!tristan in his angry young man(tm) era once pulled the *heath ledger voice* 'do you wanna see a magic trick? im gonna make this pencil disappear' bit lakjflkjdsfkjdsf if he'd grown up entirely in kolchis and remained under godfrey's tutelage" WAY more sarcastic re: delivery etc and not the clown makeup or any of ~that stuff but just yeah pointing at his witchy past w misdirection when ppl try to use it to undercut him etc aljdskflkjsd ANYWAY!!)

but he was ~also already a v advanced reader and had been taught philosophy and kolchean legends and astronomy and history and all that stuff from before he could talk bc godfrey had high hopes for him at first (and still did atp!) so he probs came off, in roderick's eyes, as half-savage, half-sage, and def bizarre given his age ngl, but ~bc of that age, he also probs wrote it off as his unsophisticated kolchean ways which could be polished away, and all largely a joke ngl lakjsfkljdslkjf

RODERICK ON TRISTAN/XENOPHOBIA

bc of this, roderick probs ~did tell alaric that they had to give tristan a good example to help him wash away his barbaric ways etc, but being family was worthy of this saving grace they could provide etc instead of just being instantly despised like roderick'd usually do aldjkflkjdsfkj that being said i don't think he would've expected alaric to hang out w him, unless he wanted to, or anything like that...just to model good, upstanding varmont behavior for him when they ~were together, sort of thing!

i do think tristan caught on pr quick that he was v different from everyone else here and that roderick was def experiencing some xenophobia (not that he knew what ~that was, but just that he saw him as weird/off-putting/even a lil unnerving at times, etc) and, w godfrey's help, tried his best to sort of play along and suppress his ~otherness in order to appear (and ultimately ~become bc again he's so young atp!) more and more varmont over the years, but i def think that was a ~journey over the course of years, helped along by having a varmont education, being surrounded by varmonts, godfrey ultimately dropping him, etc!

TRISTAN & ALARIC GIVING E/O A CHILDHOOD! (and more xenophic fun!)

omg tristan giving alaric a childhood!!!! and honestly vice versa!!! the thing abt tristan is that he really does/did buy into the whole varmont thing bc that mission statement of finding ppl in bad conditions and giving them a chance at a better life???? they actually DID that for him!!!!! for the first time in his life, he was safe (since he's been lovingly microdosed on poison his whole life lkajdfskjasdljfsdf #thankssis kaljsfkljsdf), he wasn't hungry, there was someone there for him to play with, he was probs actually taught things more suitable to his age hahahaha he didn't have to steal and then run from the cops just to eat, he was consistently warm and dry like!!!! and not just that!! he was now living in the grandest palaces in the world, and ultimately even offered the chance to help do for others what had been done for him!!!!!1 like!!!!! this is wonderful!!!!!

and sure he's probs mistrusted etc to this day by lotsa varmont troops bc his sister and grandmother are both reputed to be witches, and im sure he has to deal w that on the daily, but ~that prejudice is a lot easier than some of the other stuff he's had to deal w, and most won't dare say it outright since roderick'd have their tongues for it given that's his son's and wife's ancestors etc they're impugning!!!! and therefore a reflection upon the crown, and roderick, himself!!!! but im sure there's still hella passive-aggressive stuff he's gotta shrug off etc.

but anyway!!!! my point is that tristan has spent most of his life genuinely hugely grateful to the varmonts!!!1 and legit believing they're the good guys!!!! the only problem is that most of the ppl roderick conquereed don't end up becoming the 5yo sibling to one of his queens, and even if they do, they weren't generally plucked from the slums to do it, and just...generally are NOT having a great time of it!!!! his experience is more the exception than the rule he truly believed it to be for so long (smth he only started to learn too late)!!!

DEVELOPING FRIENDSHIP

ANYWAY ANYWAY my point is that, if you still think, given all that, that alaric would still take tristan under his wing, i knowwwww he was sooo grateful for it!!!!! and honestly thought alaric was all that and a bag of chips!!! even just going into it, little less after he got to know him and discovered he's ~also a genuinely good person too!!!! and actually has a weird amount in common w him -- coming from a family, to borrow a phrase, burdened w glorious purpose, raised by a much older sibling w greater powers at their throat till the conquests/roderick's reign began! and esp if alaric was ~also reinforcing this tristan was like 'its so cool that i get to know this guy! w o w!! i bet other ppl would envy us getting to interact w the actual emperor!' lakjdsfklsjdf other ppl: 'yes but only bc direct contact makes assassination easier to pull off!'

TRISTAN EDMUND IS THE ONE

so re: tristan vs edmund! i feel like it was a gradual thing at first, bc i think the instant amira was pregnant he was like '...wait' hahaha so i do think he was a big more distracted from that time on, but yeah once edmund got a lil older and was showing actual aptitude he was just like 'lol byeee!' to tristan but i do feel like this was still when edmund was super young like...basically i think it was his personality really showing itself that did it for godfrey so that's when edmund's what? like...3-6 basically???

certainly by the time edmund was 7, godfrey was done cold turkey w tristan as his ~chosen one~ which actually does make tristan a lil ~older than i was og ~thinking now that im doing the actual math hahaha but still works! and possibly even better, bc 12-16 isn't a great time to be abandoned, either! but it ~is a great time to hurl yourself into roderick's varmont youth program (SCREAM) when you find you don't have a purpose in life suddenly! alkjdfjsflkasfj sooo yeah! but yeah i do think it was pr abrupt once godfrey made the decision ngl!

VARMONT CIVIL WAR

i think it'll be really interesting for these two, too, if/when alaric and tristan end up on opp sides!!! esp bc, outside of eoin ofc <3 i think if you asked tristan abt his bffs, if we do go w this backstory, i think its super likely that alaric is right in there w him as bestie material in tristan's eyes!! and like he would, i think, take that all a lil harder bc like...edmund is just as much alaric's nephew as arthur is! (more so...as it turns out ;DDDD no but obv no one knows that! hahaha) but i do think he'll get that its more abt marian and the bond he has w him and arthur and arthur being an older son etc!! and tristan, himself, struggled to take a side bc he didn't want this to happen, but still! he loves his nephew and, for all their many flaws, he loves his siblings too, and yeah!

esp bc, while godfrey has hanthom and that's def a v lucrative/seaworthy hahaha feif, ive no doubt that roderick has alaric set up w theeeee biggest duchy, as his own brother, that isn't going directly to one of roderick's kids, so alaric throwing in somewhere is def gonna be a blow to the other factions!

lbr alaric has a better chance to persuading roderick to choose an heir than anyone else in the world...but sadly it still won't happen tbqh lakjdsfkljdsjf

RODERICK'S PRIORITIES

in fact, @forgottenroderick @forgottenmarian ive been meaning to put this down somewhere but like...its coming up organically here, so here it shall be! (but don't worry i plan to copy & paste this and make a new thing on roderick's site, so we can really dig into all this if we like!)

ok so roderick is def gonna make sure that ~roderick has the best of everything like!!!! this is def a given lakjdsfkljdf but he also knows that rewarding his most faithful servants is a good idea, so that's def a thing, but he ~also knows he doesn't ever wanna invite anyone getting too big for their britches and tryna grab smth out from under him/his fam, and (atm anyway!) even ~he knows he can't hold the whole world by himself wo v powerful allies to back him up. he also believes that family is the thing he can trust most, w those related most closely being worthy of more trust than those ~less related etc!

this must also be balanced w due respect etc towards the crown and such!!

so! when roderick's handing out goodies to the playable characters, what's the priority? ive got some kinda ~tiers, and within these tiers, he tries to keep things pr even, but in a longterm kind of scale/w a sense of ~earning things getting you more etc. so, if you really exert yourself for roderick you'll get rewarded for it!

for example: uncles of heirs is a tier and, if godfrey really acquits himself well and gets smth big out of it, roderick will then put an uncle of arthur's or guin's in a position where he can really acquit himself and thus potentially earn as much as godfrey did! if he doesn't, that's on him, bc roderick gave him equal opportunity! that kind of thing ;D

RODERICK'S TIERS

empress -- now...the empress is dead! buT she just can't stop winning! and dead or alive, she's still the richest woman in the varmont empire! one of the big things roderick likes to do, right, is play his wives off against e/o by making ~them compete to be his next empress like he does w his heir, its unlikely this award will ever be given, but he's ensured this pot is pr large so the prize is def worth having! and boy is it! the empress, alone, is free to rule over her own holdings like any male lord might! i know, jaw-dropper! now, atm, these holdings are in trust and probs stewarded by either alaric or bart (or perhaps even working together bc it is...a lot and they're both busy, as is!), w that regent splitting the revenues w roderick and w guin, as heirs to the late empress, but all to be reworked, should a new empress ever be named. the empress, as part of roderick's winnings, is always awarded a new holding in every single nation. roderick feels it would be a slight against his own glory, were his empress not to be the second most powerful person in the world and the .richest woman alive!....and she is! well, rich..not...alive... ;D anyway ngl this is also a way of helping assuage his guilt over her death, so that's fun too!

alaric -- sorry to roderick's many (living) wives and children, alaric's in a league of his own!! he's the man who has believed in roderick longest, had his back throughout it all, his most trusted compatriot and warrior and bff! after roderick himself, alaric gets the best of everything! roderick knows alaric can and will hold it, and enrich himself and the empire w whatever he gets bc he's proved it! AND he knows that alaric will do all that w roderick's best interests at heart, too! alaric, alone, out of all the tiers can count on getting a new holding in every single country, regardless of how he acquits himself atp! his loyalty is proven!

ot3: succession -- those heirs out here to scooooore!!! they're gonna get the next best stuff!!!! this is their training-to-rule opportunity, really, so use it wisely bc duly pleasing roderick is as close to that as youre ever gonna get!! nd roderick really ~does actually want them to have a holding in every single country but they're now at the age where they have to earn it!! he will be embarrassed if they fail to do this and they will have to suffer the consequences! now, the boys are most likely gonna earn this through conquest: guin will have to do it by negotiating extraordinary trade deals and diplomatic affairs and strategic marriages and such, both within the empire and outside of it. t he boys can do this as well but they MUST do the other as well and guin CANNOT.

queens: that's right, ladies! sleeping w roderick has its privileges, and you get to hold land in ur own name! obv you don't get to do much ~w that or abt it w/o permissions etc, but you get the revenues from it and that prestige too! also a lot of their households will probs be ppl'd by ppl from their various holdings (aka implied allies) etc!! and they can do more or less as they like, so long as they meet w their council of (male!) advisors before doing anything too big, the heads of which are their respective firstborn sons. alaric, bart, and eoin, and any other extraneous male varmont relations there may be also sit each council, and the respective queen's own male relatives may do as well, (as appointed by the presiding son in question,) all presided over by edmund or arthur, respectively, which is honestly probs another big opportunity for them each to learn abt such things so that's smth! in marian's case, sebastian would also be part of this council. before edmund and arthur were born, arthur or bart or perhaps even roderick, himself, was probs the presiding member.

sebastian: same as ot3: scs, but w less pressure and less opulent potential winnings, bc roderick doesn't mind as much if he doesn't have a holding in every country, etc! he also doesn't have access to affairs ~outside the empire, but may negotiate to his heart's content ~within it as long as he doesn't in any way embarrass roderick ofc!

cassandra: so this one's a lil uhhh weird...she can't do anything to earn anything except by pleasaing/displeasing her father or her mother or full bros doing the same! she also doesn't even get to attend the sessions where her lands etc are dealt with! the deal here is basically that these holdings are effectively her dowry. whoever marries her automatically becomes one of THE most powerful men in the world, becoming archduke and count and lord and everything else w a holding in each of roderick's many domains bc, after guin and roderick's wives, cassandra is the wealthiest and most powerful. (powerless) woman in the world via everything she's got. now, its not nearly as nice as what sebastian's got, bc roderick is here to make sure that his own blood is still more powerful than whoever just ~marries in~ etc, but!!! this is an insane level of wealth and power notwithstanding!!! rn, tho, this one's largely seen to by arthur w sebastian's help, since they both got a lot of holdings of their own to attend to. (also arthur defff checks in w his mom abt what she wants done here but that's just out of love/respect and isn't official bc marian is, ofc, a woman alksdjfkljdsf ironically tho i doubt it occurs to him much to check in w cassandra re: what ~she might want even tho these are literally ~her holdings lakjsdfkljsdf)

the church: yeah his one god getting a temple in every single land! and its gonna be bigg and granddd and flashyyyy, and this guy don't have to earn it! its not on the ~choicest pc of land but its still rad af and lotsa ppl would kill for it but they won't get the chance! the god gets his piece no matter what <3 i would guess that royce is running these, largely, but this lowkey falls under the jurisdiction of the entire privy council to deal w should anything come up and roderick is actively involved w designing each temple etc too

so the immediate imperial family now taken care of, roderick starts to think of satellite family. their tiers are still extravagant, but all ~the best has already been divvied up in the above tiers! now, best can mean amany things, and it incorporates both wealth/power AND strategic significance. so yeah! these guys are less trusted and can't rebel as easily, is basically the thought here!

bartholomew: once roderick's immediate family is all taken care, the very next guy roderick's thinking of is his uncle! he loves this guy, and trusts him as much as he trusts anyone, and before there were kids and multiple wives, bart got WAY choicer pieces!!!! so in the early conquests he realllly made out, still!!! he will still be more wealthy/powerful, id imagine, than cassandra's husband, id wager, but he's now much lower on the pecking order than he used to be, as each successive wife and child pops him into a lower bracket than he was, early on. bartholomew, like everyone else, has to earn these but it seems like he's extremely competent so ive no doubt that happens!

eoin/any other extraneous male varmonts: he's only a nephew, sure, but this dude's still a varmont! his ~sons will be varmonts! and that means smth!! so eoin, on his own, probs less wealthy than cassandra's future hubby, since he wasn't alive and accumulating wealth ~that long before roderick started having kids etc, but once he inherits from his dad and unites everything they both have, well, that varmont name still looking pr great!

brothers-in-laws: w all roderick's blood relatives taken care of, its time to start looking in on those in-laws! they def gotta earn this stuff, and a lot of this will depend on politics re: the related queen/heir etc bc if roderick's mad at amira, well, tristan's (look i brought it around to him again in his own post! ;D but...just as an example bahahah) not being put in a position to earn another holding! ~marian's brother is! and so forth lakjdsfalkjsdf this will ultimately also encompass families who intermarry w roderick's kids, etc. (bc in roderick's mind this is def happening someday! too bad only roderick stands in the way... ;D alkjsdflkjdsf) fathers of wives get better pieces than her brothers, older brothers get better pieces than younger ones, etc. cassandra's husband's family would get lesser pieces than the families of the queens, or of the princes' wives, since his social standing would be lesser. guin's hsuabdn's family would get more than sebastian's and it'd be a whole thing abt whether he gets more than arthur or edmund's bride's families but probs he would?

council members: here's where your alistair greys and your alexander royces come in! they too have to earn it -- in war, yes, but largely w good politicking! roderick likes that thing you did? you get a holding! you get a holding! you displeased him? no holding for you! etc

other loyal lords: earned by extraordinary deeds and pleasing roderick! roderick keeps lands to himself in this strata and a lesser one so he can hand them out as rewards to those who earn them.

anyone else: roderick gets the significance of rewarding extraordinary effort! so he ~will raise you from nothing into a lord (w a lesser holding ngl but still!), if you're somehow epic enough as an ally to him/he happens to notice you for whatever eason and is randomly feeling generous/wanting to make the point of his generosity felt to his underlings! this category of man, who owes everything to roderick, he knows will fight the hardest and prove the most loyal. he exploits that

[forgottenalaric]

sjlflkasdjfljd omg Tristan's childhood!!!! I do think, given that, honestly Alaric was probably ~also~ prejudice against Tristan's ~wild and barbaric ways~ when he first arrived (thanks to being highly influenced by Roderick, especially at that time in his life). But he would have taken Roderick's thoughts re: Tristan's development v seriously and probably saw this as a task that he could accomplish (everyone: ur 8 but ok)

As a result, I don't think that they would have hit it off instantly and Alaric would have been like .... wtf??? about a lot of the things Tristan said and did and would have likely been put off from him completely if Tristan wasn't family now, y'know? And like most people Alaric is sure he's gonna dislike forever, all it really took was just spending time with Tristan and eventually he realized just how much he actually liked him <3

Honestly, I feel like Tristan is also shaping up to be Alaric's bff, too, and I think in some ways Tristan is probably even better friends with Alaric than Godfrey is, given that Alaric sorta views Tristan like the little bro he never had (Alaric: I practically raised him!! ;DDD jk jk but ngl he probably feels like that a little!) Also, nooooo Tristan feeling hurt that Alaric sides with Arthur who is just as much of a nephew to him as Edmund </3 Like everyone assumes Tristan will side with Edmund b/c he's family but Alaric out here blatantly choosing favorites of his nieces/nephews o.O

(Also I lOVE Roderick's tiered reward system going on here laksjdfljsdlfjdf!!! I laughed at him not bothering to ask Cassandra what SHE wants done, but to be fair she really would not care at all hahah or have much idea of what he's even talking about!! Not Cassandra out here helping to prove to the Varmont boys that "she's just a girl" and therefore knows nothing ;D)

I was also thinking about Alaric/Eilia and I don't think he'd EVER mention his feelings about her to anyone (not even Tristan!!!) but I feel like Tristan can probably tell that there's something weird w/ Alaric re: her??? Like idk that he'd jump right to ~romantic~ feelings but I think Alaric is weird enough about her that Tristan might be able to pick up that there's something going on with him??

I feel like, in the past, when he likes a girl he does find a way to bring her up alots because he wants to talk about her but he can't let anyone know he likes her, so he just complains about her ... but I don't think he does this with Eilia since she's his brother's potential next wife, but I do think he brings her up a lot but then just doesn't say much b/c he can't say anything too nice or too mean asldkfjalsdfjlfj (he's a mess)

I also think he HAS talked to Tristan about potentially marrying Eabha, too, and it is probably clear that there is a lot of genuine feelings his part about her, which probably ALSO would help to throw off the "Does Alaric have feelings for Eilia?" thought train ;D

[forgotteneithne]

ronan: no matter what, keep moving

It had been two days of stumbling through the woods together before Ronan had found Eithne and Tristan, appearing out of the trees silently and causing the pair to nearly jump out of their skin.

"I'll find your sisters, Eithne, I promise," Ronan assured her. He'd brought some supplies and was busy packing them into a knapsack for she and Tristan to take with them. "They all made it out, just like you-- I tried to get to Aoife but..." Ronan didn't finish his sentence, instead knotting up the knapsack and thrusting it into Tristan's arms.

"No matter what, keep moving," Ronan continued, addressing Eithne only still. "They don't know these woods like you. They fear these woods. Stay in the woods, keep moving... Malconaire will protect you. The woods will hide you."

Eithne nodded and, then, closed the space between she and Ronan, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. She could feel him tense but her returned the gesture for a few moments before pulling away from her.

"You," Ronan turned to Tristan then and it was Eithne's turn to tense up, ready to step between the pair if needed.

"Keep our lady safe, Darach," Ronan instructed before he pulled up his hood and hurried off into the woods.

"What does 'darach' mean?" Tristan asked, throwing the knapsack over his shoulder. Eithne watched the hooded figure until the forest had swallowed up his form in the trees.

"Son of the Oak..." Eithne turned back to Tristan then, smiling softly.

"Its our name for the people of Malconaire."

[forgottentristan]

Guin - "I thought for sure that you were my dream come true."

Tristan smiled softly. "That was a long time ago."

"It was," agreed Guinevere, emphatically enough that Tristan laughed. "But the truth that you may turn even a princess' head yet remains."

He turned too quickly to look at her. Dark eyes meeting her limpid ones before, at last, sucking in a deep breath, he looked away. "Guin..."

"Don't be coy with me. I think I know by now how you look when your heart is touched but you don't believe your suit can possibly triumph." She smiled sadly. "Someone's caught your eye, Tristan. Don't pretend otherwise with me."

"It doesn't matter--"

"It--can't be?"

He didn't look at her, this time, allowing his gaze to stray off towards the wilderness, towards the little peaks and shallows that led to the woodland world where she dwelt, canopied like a queen, by a field all of leafy green.

"I know that sting too well, myself, to let you despair, my friend."

Tristan turned towards the princess, again, watched the wind toy amongst the golden length of her tresses, her father's crown ever atop her head. "Guin--"

"No," she laughed, patted his hand. "Not you."

Warm relief washed over him in gratitude. He exhaled a long breath. "I am glad. I should never wish to cause you any pain, Guin."

"Nor I you. So I must be honest. You are brother to an imperial queen; descended from a conqueror so successful he inspired my own illustrious father; commander of perhaps the most elite forces in the world; and possessed of a true and noble spirit and a chivalrous heart. Who is this woman you cannot think to have, hm?"

Tristan rolled his eyes affectionately. "You make it sound so grand."

"It is grand!"

"I have no wealth in my own name, and you know well and good your father does not wish to see the commander of his protectors wed."

Guin shrugged. "My father is changeable -- and, should you wed, I imagine much of the wealth even now tended by your siblings should at last find its way to you, as intended by your titles."

Tristan shook his head. "There is...another, Guin."

"Oh."

He smiled softly, sadly towards her.

"Who is he?"

"Two others, then," he laughed, still subdued.

"What do you mean?"

"There is a man, yes," he nodded. "But...her truest love is her home. I could not take her from there." He looked away. "She would not thank me for it in the long run. Even if she ever did come to feel something for me." He paused. "Which is unlikely, in itself."

"So you'll accept unhappiness so that she might not have to?" Guin touched his shoulder. "There's the knight I once fell for."

He shook his head.

"Will you not tell me her name?"

"No. No, I will not."

"A pity. I might have interfered for your good."

"And that, dear friend," he chuckled. "Is why I shall not tell you."

"You know my tricks too well, I see."

He arched his brows playfully. "I thought for sure that you were my dream come true, once, too."

[ornkhai]

your “loyal and virtuous” knight is doubting the cause he pledged his very soul to 🫵😂

[liesmyth]

[localbookshop]

Impasse Saint-Eustache, Paris, France