a cold melancholy

Irene Haelstarv of Winterhaven “I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.” - Ned Vizzini

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Intricate Planning | Drago and Irene

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Drago could feel the tension in Irene’s voice. Even her posture was as rigid as the cold air around them, but her face remained classically emotionless. Drago’s eyes wanted to wander over to Deston, but he dared not see the look of disdain in the man’s face. Instead he gave a good bow in his general direction and followed behind Irene, who had a single guard in tow. He wondered just how much security his fiancée needed in her own home. Or perhaps that was Deston’s doing. Irene was his favorite after all and Drago was only threatening to steal her from him. However the man did not know of their plans- if he did Drago’s head would have been on the snow scattered ground already.

Once they passed the outer wall of the fortress, Drago’s shoulders relaxed a bit. Looking around he was a bit disappointed of what he saw. There were no lavish decorations as he expected of the North. And it was all very dull to begin with which made sense that most of the people of Winterhaven looked like a block of stone was tied to their backs. Drago knew that there were pressures in               Queensgarden but everyone did their best to feign happiness.

As they walked Drago wanted to start a conversation, but the pace she was walking and refusal to turn around made him realize that talking wasn’t an ideal thing at the moment. As they walked through the corridors, many of the servants stopped and gave a bow to Irene and then a nod of the head to Drago. But he could already hear the whispers of his past surround him. These people did not know him so they just went on rumors. In Queensgarden he had made an improvement in his behavior so his character was looked upon as good instead of a hindrance. Here in Winterhaven, they could care less of the truth as long as they had something to distract them.

Looking back to Irene, she seemed like a smoothly moving statue from one of the temples. Perfect posture and stoic expression. She glided along like she never picked up her feet, however Drago never heard so much as a sound instead of his own footsteps as well as the guards. It was only until they  reached their destination did the guard stay outside of the chambers while they went in. The chambers were relatively empty except for the bed, wardrobe and dresser for his clothing. He then decided that he would have to get new clothes made, for his were all made of light fabrics that would not keep a slight chill out.

“It has been stressful for you has it not?” Drago asked quietly as he looked around the room, taking a few strides here and there while he waited for a reply.

[irenehaelstarv]

     Upon entering Drago's chambers, a sense of relief overcame Irene. Relief from the public eye; the guard had just as well managed to keep his distance. She felt her shoulders relax and her features soften as she approached a window, muttering to herself words of prayer with her fingers laced together in front of her and her head bowed subtly. Hearing Drago's inquiry of her distress, Irene could feel herself again succumb to sorrow. She wished to see Rodrick of all people. Drago was not the man to confide in. He was not her friend; he was merely using her for personal gain. In a world of deception and cruelty, her sisters and Rodrick were the only ones that had earned her trust. 

     Turning on her heel to face Drago, her brows furrowed nearly in what appeared as confusion while her lips trembled. She merely nodded with her eyes locked onto his before a single sob had escaped from her parted lips. Just as she had done so, the back of her hand thrusted towards her mouth to conceal any furthermore noise that would alert the man lingering just beyond the door. It was then that she realize her hands were trembling with such immense trepidation; terror.

     She again turned to the window with shame, never retracting her hand from her lips with concern for own lack of self composure. This was a weakness. Deston never cried nor had his voice ever quivered, threatening to reveal sentiment. Not even her mother reacted so impulsively to dismay and she too had married a man of whom she was repulsed by. Wasn't that what happened to most young maidens born into such high rankings of nobility? But so least, Irene had the choice to say no. Nevertheless, such a rejection may alter things for the worse. Bringing her hand away from her lips, she kept her eyes fixated on the window and sniffled once.

     "I'm very scared." She said carefully, again sounding somewhat monotone. "I don't want to be here. I want to be playing in the snow with Anne or praying with Harlow. I want to be a child, still. It meant I did not have to subject myself to a man's world. Just my own."

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Intricate Planning | Drago and Irene

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The first thing Drago noticed when he opened the letter was that the writing was not Irene’s. Hers had a certain fluidity to it that could not be replicated. This writing was almost as good, but definitely not the same. He only had to assume that she had someone else write it for her since her name was at the bottom. It could be a setup- that Deston got a hold of their letters…but no, he had to trust Irene. As he read the letter over, he nodded in approval. It was her voice that he read, no doubt.

He thought about sending back a short note, but then decided against it. He would be riding out today with almost all of Queensgarden in tow. But his chambers were especially empty now that he had packed up most of his things. The furniture stayed for it was far too much of a hassle to transport them. All he took was his clothes, his books, writing tools and a sealed box of dark wood that he hadn’t opened since…then. But it was strange to know that he would not be returning to this place that he called home.

He would be leaving Andromaque- and he could tell with each passing day that she grew more upset. They were twins, they were bound. Drago knew that she would most likely never forgive him for this, but it was for their family. It was for the best. Hopefully when he rose to the Throne, she would understand. But he couldn’t explain it to her now. It would undo everything he worked so hard to stitch up.

After everything was packed up, they were on the road traveling to Winterhaven. They stopped all about once along the way for rest, but Drago already noticed the change in temperature. He would miss the warm sunlight of Queensgarden the most. He would miss walking along the gardens and laying in the grass. The sun was where he belonged, not in the cold and barren. Perhaps it was a punishment before rising to the throne. But they purchased a few thick coats made of some large beast that obviously didn’t roam the outskirts of Queensgarden and then pressed on. It was another hour and Drago could see his breathe.

When they arrived in Queengarden, Drago couldn’t feel his nose and the leather gloves he wore almost became stiff with the cold, dry air. The fortress of Winterhaven had a stiff aura too it. The walls seemed like all of the stones were melted together, but upon closer inspection the masonry was close together- not separated by mud. The windows seemed to vault up and form a point like some of the windows in the temples of the Three Goddesses. It all seemed so very lifeless than the curved windows and pretty stained glass of Queensgarden.

Drago’s attention was ripped from the exterior of the palace to the figures standing in the gateway. Several heavy armored men with fur cloaks lined the path, but among them were royals as well. Drago’s eyes immediately met with Irene’s cool ones and he gave a respectful nod. Unmounting his horse, Drago drew this coat around him tighter, not really welcoming the cold, but gave a deeper bow to them.

“Has it become colder since I have last visited Winterhaven?”

[irenehaelstarv]

     Hidden away in the desolate confinements of her chambers, Irene was knelt before a petite figurine of Isabeau. Her hands folded against the tip of her chin with her head bowed in prayer, her lips moved, though no sound was emitted from her. She had spent her morning in despair and prayer, beseeching humbly for a change of course in what fate had predetermined. Hours, it had been. Her knees ached and her hands cramped, yet she was faithful and pious in her final moments. Just like Harlow had taught her.

     A soft voice startled Irene, nearly in a dazed mindset. Her eyes lifted with vexation, though she did not move from her position nor avert her attention from the figurine. She merely nodded along to the few words spoken from her demure and sweet young handmaid.

     "They are arriving, Your Highness." She said with anguish in her voice, perhaps detecting Irene's dismay.

     Standing without a word, Irene wiped at the single tear that had recently fallen before turning to face the girl with parted lips and furrowed brows. Her expression had implied she was immensely perturbed with agitation threatening to overwhelm her already frail demeanor. She felt as though she may give any moment; she had not the fortitude to perform. There was a beat of silence before Irene pursed her lips maliciously and raised her brows as though offended.

     "Hasn't anyone told you that it is churlish and barbaric to disrupt a person in prayer?" The maiden stood in shameful silence like a child who had just been lectured. Instead of prolonging her shame, Irene took a subtle step forward and gestured her on. "Go fetch my coats."

_____

     Standing just outside the gate, she was accompanied by Deston and multiple other guards. All of whom spoke not so much as a word among each other. Bitter silence, it was. Only a single guard separated the space between Deston and Irene. Deston who had not the will to even glance in her direction as he was so disgusted with her. How she wished to beg his approval and his affection, but knew she'd receive nothing in return. She had betrayed his ego like so many other women. She was only fueling the flame within him. And with Drago approaching, Irene could feel the tension strengthen. Presenting Deston no opportunity to speak, Irene took a step forward just as Drago dismounted and gave a partial curtsy.

     "I'll show you to your chambers. Your belongings will be sent for." Her voice was monotone and her face expressionless

     She ignored his inquiry of the weather; as though he could not tell. The days were always slightly colder. It could not be physically felt, but Irene knew. She turned on her heel and surpassed the guards, expecting Drago to follow. Immediately, a single guard had taken to maintaining his close proximity to her while Deston was unmoving, though she felt his gaze pierce through her like a cold dagger.

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Intricate Planning | Drago and Irene

It took Drago several attempts to start a letter to Irene. The first few he tore up and scattered among his chambers. The last attempt he had made, he let it burn over a candle. Finally he started the letter, scrawling the words onto the parchment with precision and purpose.

Your Majesty,

  As arraigned, the wedding will be in Winterhaven, held in a week’s time. I will be brining flowers from Queensgarden that will last the cold of the North- well at least inside the walls of the palace. I still have yet to buy a few fur coats for myself since there are short supple here in Queensgarden. Perhaps I will buy some as I arrive. But you needn’t worry about all of the small wedding details- except your dress.

It has been apparent through rumors that our marriage is not smiled upon by the King. If it is your wish to back out of the marriage, I would appreciate some notice before I arrive to Winterhaven. Since I have seen you, I have upheld my promise of quitting my drinking habits as well as others. Although I can never get rid of gossip of my past, I am turning over a new leaf –so we say in Queensgarden- for you.

I am still pressing my sister to attend our wedding, but she is feeling better. I would also like to invite my nephews and niece, if that pleases you. I think that my neice, Nevaeh, would be delighted to see her dear friend the Lady Elizabeth Winslow once again. I could not help but notice their flowering friendship during Lady Elizabeth’s stay at Queensgarden.

Until then, I wish you many happy fortunes.

Sincerely,

  Drago Beauroza

Drago used the raven that delivered their letters while they were planning on the engagement. The raven was trained to go directly to the window of Irene’s chambers. And if she was not there, her maids were instructed to put the bird in its designated cage and deliver the letter to Irene. 

[irenehaelstarv]

     Irene had read over the letter four times before being overwhelmed of her own sentiment as she sunk down into a nearby chair with grief. In her own confinements, she hadn't suppressed her disconsolate and anguished sobs. A single handmaiden and knelt by her side to console her by the grasp of her hand. Through each surge of despondency, she could be heard muttering to herself, pleading that she did not want this. The single maiden merely nodded along and expressed pity in her contrite appearance. Hours it had been before Irene obtained the fortitude to respond.

     She directed the maiden to write for her, concerned that she may begin weeping again and stain the letter with her tears. Surely enough, she did again succumb to her agony only a few lines in.

Drago,

  Acquit yourself of any furthermore burdens regarding preparations for the event. I will see to it that all your needs are met upon arrival such as coats that will help you sustain the weather here. I will arrange for your bedchambers and assure you are accustomed to only the finest we have to offer.

  As for Nevaeh, I urge that she attends. My dear cousin is so lonesome among these walls; we all are. She could use the temporary companionship that your niece has to offer. Elizaebeth is very much like another sister to me and I pray only for her to have what her heart desires. Thank you for the consideration towards the sentiment of both girls. I will let Elizaebeth know of Nevaeh's approach and she will be with gratitude.

  Lastly, thank you for coming to your senses. I express my grave fondness for your dedication. We will meet again on the day we wed. I pray you a safe trip to Winterhaven.

Sincerely, Irene Haelstarv

     After revising the letter, Irene agreed hastily to have it sent off before she changed her mind.

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More Than Words | Drago and Irene

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“Irene,” Drago started as he quietly walked closer so that he was in front of her, his eyes calculated her expression. He could plainly see that this position was pushed on her and her agreement for marriage was so that he would carry some of the weight. But they were both fragile, threatening to break again if they held it alone. “In any man’s eyes, I am a traitor for following my family. Since you have known this, it still bewilders me that you accepted my proposal at all. It sounds like you already know what is going to happen and yet you place your faith in it anyways.”

“And even with all of the rumors- which are undoubtedly true, there’s no point in lying about what I’ve done- you still…trust me,” Drago breathed quietly. He paused for a moment contemplating, but he reached forward to take one of her hands in his hands. “But I have done the same. I would be a fool to ignore the possibilities and reality of our situation.”

“No, no assassin it would be too obvious and it would be too easy for fingers to be pointed,” Drago agreed with a nod of his head. His face grew into a worrying expression as she sighed. Irene looked so tired and worn- most likely from the stress of everything that she’s been planning.

“Please, Irene, you need rest. I will plan the wedding soon, you need not worry about a detail like that,” he soothed as he patted her hand gently and then released it. He felt like he needed to give her a reassuring kiss on the forehead, but he held that back knowing that he would be breaching a level of comfort. He was already in her room, best not push it.

“As soon as the festivities are over, I shall begin planning and I will tell you the date the moment I confirm it,” Drago concluded with a bit of a smile. “Will you be gracious as to send your sisters my regards?”

[irenehaelstarv]

     "I'd have done the same for my sisters." Irene admitted through a soft grin in her attempt to justify his actions. "They are my whole heart. Even Tess. A traitor, but my heart nevertheless. And if she asked of me a favor, I'd perform and gladly accept whatever it cost me." The relationship between she and Tess had always been estranged regarding how gravely the two differed. Tess was the sun as Irene was the moon; demure and gentle. They conflicted each other with each grave contrast of characteristics, but from the same womb, they had emerged. Family was a single priority Irene had regarded with the utmost significance.

     Feeling Drago's hand on her own, her initial reaction had been to retract her hand, though quickly dismissed the impulse with a soft twitch of her fingers. Her discomfort only left her furthermore inclined to attempt extending any given wedding date. From her mother's vague horror stories, marriage seemed so unfortunate. But she continued to remind herself of duty. There was no reneging now. She was to be competent and as mentally sufficient as her mother was. A woman of noble status; much was expected of her from the date of her birth and until her last.

     "Very well, then." She muttered through a breathy response. "I had never assumed a day would come whereof I spoke so viciously against my uncle. I wish that only I could keep him in sanctuary. Perhaps somewhere across the sea. Compassion is not something I will have when I take my authority. It won't be permitted, will it?" Irene shrugged her eyebrows, her glossed eyes cast down. "They will think me weak if I show mercy. I've heard Deston say a similar statement from time to time. He too has emotional burdens in spite of what the general public sees. He has always been very much like a father to me." Allowing sympathy to subside, she looked to him with a faint smile.

     "Thank you. I hope that... we are to become well companions." Such a statement was all she could manage in both grief and disdain. She had intended to marry a simple man with light colored eyes and delicate, yet calloused hands. So least he was handsome. His face was one a woman could become accustomed to while he did not reek of alcohol for this moment, nor would he ever again by his word. Much like her mother, she was to endure not for the benefit of herself, but for political endeavors. The notion was worthy of vexation, yet her annoyance would not resolve her conflicts. "Write me of your plans and I will abide. The wedding will partake in Winterhaven. And your sister... I hope she is in fair health to attend. Whispers in court assume she's not too sickly and I hope there to be no bitter relations. My intentions are to resolve the differences between our families."

     Standing back to her feet, she nodded once in dismissal of his presence. "I will give my sisters your regards. It will be appreciated."

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Leone’s hearing ability was not as sensitive as to pick up the maiden’s sussuring. His eyes travelled to her lips, her mouthing apparent to him.  Afraid to appear bewildered, Leone righted himself until he was as stiff as a board. Claring his throat, he attempted to refocus his mind as he had done with his body.

"Neither do I" Leone agreed, pushing his luck by taking a step closer. "A pleasure to meet you, Irene.” Someof his brother’s mutters, which appeared to him as mindless noise, sounded in is mind. Irene; the name was familiar. ” I wish to be called Leone,if you do not mind.”

The muttering again. How it angered him to be unable to hear her words properly. If following the code of behavior he was forced to follow since he was first presented to the public, he recalled silent muttering as rude, yet did not ask for her to turn her whispers into loud words.

"Why is that, Irene?" He knew nothing of her life, nor would he want to if she was not part of the Winterhaven party. Ignoring her shells and flowers, he answered directly to her last statement. "Rodrick is always kind, even when he’s not supposed to."

[irenehaelstarv]

      "Reasons I cannot explain to you." Irene spoke through a breathy response. "It's no offense to you. I can only affirm I am going to conclude this petty nonsense His Majesty has brought unto our family at the cost of my life and dignity."

     Her suggestions could easily be identified had one taken the time to interpret her statements word for word. A rare few typically listened with keen ears which led Irene to wonder whether Leone was as attentive as his brother. From Rodrick's descriptions of him, the two differed in every possible aspect. Nonetheless, had he caught on, she'd not be wary of it. There was no doubt in her heart that as a Tyce, he despised Deston more than most others and would support the concept of instating peace as Irene had intended with her marriage. Furthermore, a promise to seat a Beauroza; his uncle.

     Perking up the corners of her lips, she nodded in response to Leone's depiction of Rodrick. It was his kindness that offered Irene an actual companion whom was not related to her. Raised in isolation and accepting as much only destined her for loneliness. Had she known as a child what she had today, she may have put forth the effort to become acquainted with others of court. By now, she had earned her reputation as a stoic woman with little to speak.

     "There is no crime in kindness. Perhaps, only against yourself. Rodrick sees the good in all. Nevertheless, he remains apprehensive of his environment. He is smart."

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More Than Words | Drago and Irene

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Drago sat intently as he listened to Irene carry on about his younger sister. It was interesting to hear a different point of view than his own. The last time Drago ran into her, their conversation did not end well. Drago guessed that she still had pent up anger against him and Andromaque for leaving her in the North as a wife to Deston. It wasn’t Drago’s idea to start, but he did nothing to stop it. It was the same as if he planted the idea himself. But according to Irene, Pascella was doing well in the North- besides the inablility to conceive.

But Drago’s jaw sort of dropped when Irene mentioned the whole plan. Execution wasn’t the suprising part. That happened with every ursurping of some throne. And he knew that Irene was in danger of being assassinated at any time because of Deston’s favoritism. He was internally shocked to see that no one had taken the opportunity.

Drago’s chest tightened when Irene mentioned that he should be cautionary and no doubt he would. But the fact that she so openly admitted that she wouldn’t want to bring him any harm in her downfall showed of her great independence. Drago knew that marrying Irene would bring danger upon himself as well as his family, but Andromaque had enough to deal with on her own. He was somewhat touched by the fact that Irene cared about him- minutely of course. But all he could do was nod in response.

“The marriage..,” Drago trailed off trying to think of an opportune time. “The sooner the better I would think. In a few weeks or a month? I would appreciate your input on this decision because it is your wedding too.”

[irenehaelstarv]

     "My only concern..." Irene hesitated, the concept of an approaching marriage disorienting her thoughts. Should it be so near? "My only concern is that if I am to fail in my endeavors, should we be married, you'd be subjected to more harm on grounds of treason. By The Three, you already have earned a traitor's name, yet have been thus far acquitted of any charges for reasons I cannot fathom. Deston will however not hesitate to execute you in a second act of treason. He will be eager to assume you've assisted me. He is already suspicious as is."

     Placing three fingers to her lips impulsively to express a hint of anxiety playing at her conscience, she wondered if she truly was attempting to spare him of any charges or merely prolonging the date. Part of his reasoning was correct; the sooner, the better. She'd have been done with it and given no time to grieve. No time to ponder on the consequences. Perhaps he had the same sentiment as she; eager to have it done with to end the mental anguish. Part of her had hoped there would be a change in events if she attempted extending her given time. Perhaps Deston would finally conceive or Drago would fall ill and she'd have to turn her loyalties elsewhere. But to wish him death, she could not do. She thought herself a vile woman to even think as much.

     "I cannot just take the throne. It will be a difficult task as I am a woman and therefor, incompetent as by the word of parliament whom would be my key to success. Furthermore, engaged to be married to a known traitor. Perhaps a different route will be necessary." She spoke through soft mumbles, mainly addressing herself, though speaking clearly enough to remain audible to Drago. "If the king were to be in an accident that killed him, the succession would be passed on to I without much effort and not nearly as much repercussions." Was she considering killing Deston without justice? It was enough to contemplate seeing that he face execution, though she knew she'd not be forgiven by The Three for murdering a man without justice. Heaving a sigh, she removed her fingers from her lips.

     "Should an assassin be hired? Would that be too obvious? I fear that it may. The heir to Valedestoria marrying a traitor supposedly by her own accord and suddenly, the king dies. I'd find that suspicious." Shaking her head to herself, she retreated to again seat herself atop her bed, suddenly pursued by enervation sparked by her own apprehension. She felt as though she might be ill. Too much was happening all at once and sleep was scarce. Sighing with defeat, she cast down her sight and nodded. "The sooner, the better. I want this over."

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More Than Words | Drago and Irene

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Drago nodded at her invitation, but he simply stood where he was and watched her as she spoke. Winterhaven, as she described it, was similar to the way that he remembered it. So vastly without color and lack of heat. That was the one thing he wouldn’t look forward to when he married Irene, the weather would make him miserable. But no doubt he would be wrapped up in so many layers of clothing that he would survive. Drago preferred the warm sun and cool nights, how he could lay out in the grass and fall asleep. There was nothing like that in Winterhaven. He seriously wondered why people still lived there at all.

He tilted his head and tightened his lips as she asked about Andromaque. That subject was still changing with each passing day. “I do not dislike my sister for Andromaque is my twin. I think it is impossible to do so, but we are both siblings and we both have our disagreements. She has plans for her sons and as much as I love my nephews, I have my own plans.”

“For quite a while we did not get along. She hated the man I had become when I was drinking. Picked at my insecurities and poured salt in the wound, that sort of thing. I do not resent her for it. It was something that I very much needed from time to time. But she is strong-willed. I just ask that you be cautious around her.”

“Since you are in Winterhaven have you interacted with my other sister, Pascella?” Drago asked, suddenly thinking of his younger sister. He did not know much about his younger sister nowadays but it seemed like Irene would be in good graces with the Queen of the North.

[irenehaelstarv]

     "It is okay to resent someone you love. We've all done that." Irene referred to Deston; the only father she had known. To her sisters, he was merely a man that presided over them. He was always keen to play favorites and exclude others. Her mother seldom mentioned her real father, only to remark of his misconducts and ill behavior. "I am not worried of her. To me, she's merely another woman. I am still above her regardless of what titles she has claimed for herself. And you will be above her as well one day. Perhaps then, she will forgive you."

     At the mention of Pascella, Irene's expression brightened, filled to the brim with enthusiasm. Pascella was not the queen Irene would have aspired to have been, but she shared a sorrow with the woman. "Pascella is kind to me. So very kind. She speaks like an angel and leaves a sweet aroma in the room. She could be like a second mother to me." Standing from the bed, she laced her fingers before her and approached him. "When I am queen, I'd like to see to it that she is most happy. Of anyone, she deserves as much." Her throat tightened over the phrase "when I am queen", reminded that she was limited in time. Her motives were ready to be carried out, though she was uncertain if she herself was ready to perform.

     "My mother has agreed I am to unseat Deston and have him executed. By the end of the year, I presume, it will be nearly done. Either I will die or he." She now spoke in low mutterings, still apprehensive in spite of being in foreign territory whereof Deston's guards were not plastered against each corner. "If it is I to face death, you will need to seek sanctuary for some time. Must I die, I must go with a clean conscience and know I have not condemned another for my mistakes."

     A look of wariness now replaced her expression. "When do you suppose the marriage should partake?"

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More Than Words | Drago and Irene

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“Irene. I will do so. And if it pleases you, you may call me Drago,” he said with a bit of a smile. He looked at the whole picture of them walking side-by-side, arm in arm and he thought they looked good together. They would make a glorious pair as King and Queen, but really everything was up to Irene. She held the real power over his head, he was just along for the ride if she so willed it. But part of their agreement was for her to sign over the kingdom to his care in exchange for the freedom she so desired.

“I swear upon my life, I am changing,” Drago responded looking directly in her eyes to assure her of his promises. “Trust is a characteristic that I value as much as I do family, even if my past actions dictate otherwise. But trust me when I say I am not going to be that person anymore. A friend has encouraged me to change, as well as you. It is not my wish to disappoint you, Irene.”

“And I think our relationship needs a bit of faith. From both sides, don’t you think?” Drago asked, not really expecting her to answer.

“My sister is very against our marriage so do not take her icy demeanor to heart if you should ever encounter her. Andromaque does not meet people to make friends. As far as I am concerned, she has none.”

“But do tell me what it is like in Winterhaven. I have only been a few times- when I was younger- so the memory escapes me,” Drago insisted as he let her lead him to her chambers. He vaguely remembered parts of Winterhaven- but none to really enjoy. Drago didn’t even know if the residents liked to live there. But the King kept them there, like hostages in war. 

[irenehaelstarv]

     With a hint of sincere gratitude in her expression, she nodded once to validate she heard his vow before parting from him to open the door with a single hand, the other still supporting her books. The confinements of the room were particularly small, though she hadn't complained. It was not Winterhaven. Three evenly spaced beds were placed, excluding Tess from the party as Deston deemed her a traitor and refused to have her word influencing faithful members to his party. A bitter reminder of her loss she still grieved over. It had been months since she'd last seen Tess. Not even an exchange of letters could be permitted.

     Placing the books atop her bed, she was relieved of the weight. Her arm nearly ached with a tolerable cramp she rubbed away in a few precise strokes. The dimly lit room was no place for her to start her readings; she'd have to take that to Winterhaven.

     "I'll be sure to start reading these when I return home. They will occupy me for a long while. I thank you for that. Sometimes... I have too much time alone with my thoughts." Averting attention from the subject, she gestured to a nearby chair, implying that he seat himself. "Make yourself comfortable, if you wish. But my sisters may soon tire and return here to rest so I cannot promise you a long stay."

     Just as Drago brought up the subject of compromise in a relationship, Irene paused. She wanted to inquire of what relationship he spoke. The two were not so much as friends; merely using each other. Her brows furrowed as she pondered with the notion. Irene could easily grant him her pardon and accept him into her good graces as another companion. Yet, there was a burden she could not identify. A boundary set that neither of them had any intention of crossing. Their marriage to be was a political union. Nothing more. "I will do my duty as a queen and a wife, Drago. As will you will do yours. There is no depth; not so much as a friendship between us." At least, there wasn't a companionship formed between them just yet. Perhaps, there was more to Drago than he was conveying.

     Keen to change the subject, she seated herself atop the edge of her bed, facing Drago with a courteous smile. "You've not missed a thing." Irene insisted. "It's so beautiful in this place whereas Winterhaven is still buried beneath a coat of grey. My world is grey in that place. I've smiled more today than I have in months." Her brows knitted together in curiosity before she folded her hands over her lap. "Do you dislike her, Drago? Your sister? What has occurred between you to make you speak with dismay in your tone when you mention her?"

[altofairbayne-deactivated201407]

More Than Words | Drago and Irene

[altofairbayne-deactivated201407]

Drago raised an eyebrow at her response to his promise, not really knowing if she was agreeing with him or mocking him. Either way it brought a small smirk that was tugging at the corner of his lips. But the smirk fell flat when she asked him about his coping method.

Images filled his mind of a single drop of blood forming on the tip of her delicate thumb and then running down her hand and arm. Soon it was soaking the sleeve of her dress- No. He couldn’t tell her. That much he couldn’t tell her. Not yet anways. Looking back up at her, he smiled sweetly.

“My coping methods are not suited for others, Your Majesty,” he said with respect in his voice, hoping that she would not press further. He was aware that his drinking was a major problem, but he was certain he could control this method better than the last. If he applied pressure in small amounts, like on his thumb where it could heal fast, then a problem should have no reason to arise. Gracefully he changed the subject, “But I would be very grateful to have your ears if I ever need to speak about… my troubles.”

He smiled as she accepted the books. He could easily imagine her and her sisters huddling around a fire, reading stories to each other or each having a book themselves. Coming from a family with numerous sisters, Drago didn’t see anything wrong with women being educated. If anything that made them more interesting to converse with. But then again, everyone in the Beauroza family was educated at some level. Drago never took notice how different things were in the North and he somewhat understood the upcoming war against it.

“I would enjoy that very much, thank you,” Drago said with a bow of his head and he swiftly turned around so that he was side by side with Irene. He gazed at her face as he held out his arm for her to take. “Walking is an activity that I find rather calming.”

[irenehaelstarv]

     Concern was voiced in the back of her mind when Drago had been quick to excuse the subject of coping. It merely made her more curious as to how he handled any particular distress. Perhaps he implied sexual methods of which, he'd be correct to assume Irene would have no interest in such activities. Her morals were particularly strict, given thanks to Harlow whom insisted that whores were reincarnated as trees. Living, but never seeing. Hearing, but never speaking. The concept gravely frightened her as a child, though likely prepared her for what fate had intended. And Harlow had always been in the favor of The Three since she so often spoke with them. She had saint's knees since she was seven.

     "Irene." She responded finally. "Just call me Irene." Shifting the books into her strong arm, she laced her other within Drago's and strode in sync with his figure. His legs were longer than her own, forcing her to place in more effort in matching his footing, though the pace they kept was considerate.

     While there was a pause of silence between the two while they kept their consistent stride, Irene pondered on the thought of Drago as king and began to question her judgement. What if he was merely another Deston in the works? She'd be risking Valedestoria at the price of her freedom. A debt that may never even be paid and therefor, done in vain. But she refused to believe this is what was predetermined for her by The Three. She was structured to forever be the puerile child that wept against her mother's bosom when she scraped her knee against the cold stone in Winterhaven. Regardless, Irene would hold the full authority until she agreed to sign over Drago's rights as king. If she agreed to do so.

     Through her thoughts, she had failed to recognized they were already parted from the gardens and within the corridors. Had her memory served her correctly, the room was located three doors down to the right when entering from the gardens since she had last been there. Tugging, softly on Drago's arm with her own, she proceeded down the empty corridor.

     "I hope you really do intend to change." She muttered softly. "I am bestowing much of my trust unto you. And faith."

[altofairbayne-deactivated201407]

More Than Words | Drago and Irene

[altofairbayne-deactivated201407]

The corner of Drago’s mouth twitched. He wasn’t too sure that he liked the tone that she was carrying, but there was little he could do about that. At least Irene would be at least somewhat of a challenge to get to know instead of being the complacent boring wife. But she was right, she was going to be Queen as he was going to be King. If he intended to keep that plan going he shouldn’t do anything to fan the flame.

“Your Highness,” Drago corrected smoothly as he gave a lower bow, one that was from the waist.  He looked down at the pile of books in his hand, now seriously doubting that she would like them. Why would she like any gift from him when she clearly had this sort of attitude when face-to-face? She would most likely use the books as firewood in Winterhaven. Swiftly he put them behind his back with a bit of an innocent smile like they weren’t even there. It sort of felt like he was a child hiding a bird behind his back when it fell from its’ nest. His mother wasn’t too happy about that.

“Yes the festivities are inside, but the crowds give me headaches,” Drago answered, his mouth stretching into complacent line. “And I am making progress on the fact that I have not had a single drop of wine today. You see I am going to stop drinking. I concluded that a drunk wouldn’t make a very fine King nor an acceptable husband. I’ve found a coping method that is….not so obvious. It gives me a clear head.”

Drago cleared his throat and then presented the books to her. He looked at her face, trying to read her expression, and then back at the pile of books. “On another matter these are for you, Your Highness. I do hope you will accept them. I was unsure of what kind of gift you would prefer.”

[irenehaelstarv]

     As though perplexed by the words coming from his mouth, Irene momentarily pursed her lips and glanced to the side. The persistent tone he carried made it difficult to validate whether he was being sarcastic or genuinely was taking this more solemnly then she had expected. Nonetheless, she did not smell alcohol on him nor did he sway with step which supported his revelation. A gentle nod confirmed she was agreeable with him on this subject before her eyes returned to meet back with his gaze.

     "You're correct. A beloved king cannot be victimized by alcohol nor tempted by his own indulgences. So least I can sleep better at night, knowing I'm not leaving an entire continent in the hands of a drunkard." Her lips turned up into a soft smile, though her tone was stern, implicating she was putting forth no effort in forming amiable relations with him. Perhaps even mocking his own efforts. Regardless of her disdain, she could not help but feel guilt by her own actions. It was consistent that she had to remind herself he was a man with his own struggles and sentiment. Words had been seldom exchanged between the two, leaving no room for development nor a chance to justify their actions. Perhaps, he was a man just as sad as she. Such a concept had never been considered. Lowering her eyes, she attempted to redeem herself.

     "I wish you the best in your endeavors and if you ever may need just someone to listen, I am willing." Her eyes lifted, though she glanced beyond his figure as though she were now demure. "Might I ask of these coping methods? I as well have my troubles, but I-I've yet to find a way to resolve them if but only temporarily."

     Taken back by Drago's offering, her initial reaction appeared perpetually confused. She then inwardly questioned whether or not she should have brought him a gift. Perhaps it was some important date in Queensgarden beside the twins' birthday that she had no knowledge of. Quickly masking her confusion with gratitude, she accepted the books. "I like to read." She suggested with a smile. "My uncle does not believe in women receiving an education, but my mother never allowed such nonsense so she taught us all to read. My sisters and I. Harlow enjoyed the teachings whilst Anne and I preferred tales of romance with jovial endings." Humming a giggle, she glanced over the text of one of the front covers. "I'd be the one to insist we skip to the end, often. I couldn't handle the conflicts in the climax. Life should be pleasant."

     Heaving a sigh, she kept her sight fixated elsewhere before coming to a conclusion with herself. "Would you like to accompany me in a walk? I need to place these in the bedchamber reserved for my sisters and I."

[rodricktyce]

Best Laid Plans || Rodrick & Irene

[rodricktyce]

Hands balling into fists at his side of their own accord, Rodrick set his jaw in an unbearably tight line, desperate to ignore the answers her question incited. If the… incidents were to worsen over time, he imagined he probably wouldn’t be much use to anyone any more. He cast his gaze downwards as he felt the tell tale sign of tears brim his eyes unbidden. At least Nevaeh could distinguish fact from fiction, if only through sheer elimination. Rodrick scoffed softly, shutting his eyes with regret as he let his head drop. Nevaeh had her own problems to contend with, too. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he let his fingers tap an arrhythmic beat against the mantelpiece. “I do not know,” he said. “I imagine I would likely be confined to a single room most days.” For my own protection, he thought sadly. “Under constant supervision, I’ve no doubt,” he added quickly, unable to completely hide the bitterness that laced the sentiment. Rodrick shrugged meekly. “I hope it does not come to such.”

He’d attempted to mimic her would-be smile, though he also seemed to fail in such, the expression ultimately falling flat. “For what it’s worth,” he murmured, to Irene or to himself, he couldn’t quite determine, “you do assist me—in your own way. ‘Tis… appreciated.” Rodrick hoped such assistance was mutual, though he didn’t voice such, unwilling to put such a question out in the open.

The swiftness with which Irene unseated himself took him by surprise, eyes widening ever so slightly before he regained his composure.

His chest grew heavy as she spoke. She was right. Of course she was right. If he were in her position, he’d probably do everything he could to keep her out of harm’s way, too. And yet, there he was, likely making Irene’s troubles more burdensome than they already were. Rodrick sighed, lifting a hand to pinch at his nose. He was a damned fool.

As she moved towards him, Rodrick let his hand fall back to his side before catching her gaze straight on. “I’m sorry,” he said, with the utmost sincerity. “I’m not helping.” The acknowledgement was more for his sake than hers—as if voicing the thought aloud solidified the truth of it in his own mind.

Closing the distance between them, he tentatively gripped her hands in his. “Tell me what it is you wish me to do – whether it be to desist entirely or otherwise – and see it done.”

[irenehaelstarv]

     "They won't." Irene affirmed beneath her breath, likely speaking to herself. "There's nothing wrong. You are a better man than any I've known. You wouldn't deserve such treatment." Quick to avert from the subject given to her own lack of comfort, she nodded along with the few words Rodrick spoke. A thoughtful man who contemplated more than he spoke. Seldom laughing, but often smiling. Never crying, but always sad. He was a mystery to even himself.

     Just as she was ready to express there was no apology needed, his grasp over her hands redirected her objective. A smile that still conveyed despondency tugged at her lips, her eyes fixating atop their joined hands. She processed his words with precise deliberation and pondered upon his offering, though proceeded to shake her head in objection. She could ask nothing of him as he had already given all that he could. The familiar lump that formed in her throat threatened to reveal her lack of stability in her emotions; tears forming along her waterline to blur her vision. It was already too late as she did succumb to her tears. Grasping his hands tighter, she maintained her smile through reddened eyes.

     "You've done much for me already." She suggested. "I just want you to forget me when I become queen. I foresee a promising future for you. You'll marry a pretty Queensgarden lady and take your father's place eventually. You can raise your babes in the gardens while I have to give mine to Drago. I ask you live a better life than I will and keep safe. Die old in your bed before your lover so you do not have to grieve for her. She will weep for you, but she will be okay." Her last few words were spoken through muffled sobs, now entirely overwhelmed. Admitting to what fate had planned for her only intensified her grief. Meanwhile, she pleaded Rodrick only forget who she was at her own request. 

     Pulling her hands from his, she instead had taken to embracing his figure by means of comfort. Her sobs turned silent, her shoulders quivering. "Freedom is a dream I cannot achieve. I reach, but it only moves further from me. I will die as queen; alone." Grasping tighter onto his shoulders, the sobs began to mellow. "I am frightened."

[pascellabeauroza]

Seeking Solitude | Pascella & Irene.

[pascellabeauroza]

Pascella watched as Irene gazed out the window of the cold tower, as desolate and lonely as it was, Pascella perceived that perhaps Irene hadn’t thought to be disturbed up here, where she thought she could freely go with her thoughts; not many people lurked up in the lonely towers of the icy fortress, they were eerie and dreadfully cold and only forgotten pieces of furniture and bits lay around up here, old tapestries grey with dust and broken stools with stacked books on top, laden with cobwebs.

When Pascella spoke she regretted it instantly, her immediate thought was why Irene was here and the dangers she was entering into alone in these parts, it hadn’t crossed her mind that she might seek some privacy and hoped to get some, until Pascella rudely interrupted her and it was clear by Irene’s expression that she had not expected her aunt to appear, possibly thinking she was already tucked up in her bed and not lurking around this empty forgotten place.

"A breath of fresh air would be better sought outside, would it not?" Pascella asked, finding holes in her words; surely going to the front Courtyard or opening her own bedroom window would be easier that clambering the icy steep steps to the tower. "And you know not of dangers." Pascella continued, not wanting to patronize her niece in any way; but she did not know the true dangers of this castle, that her uncle was one of them. She had been young once and believed she had knew everything as girls do, but she soon learned that was not the case.

But there was something else lingering in Irene’s eyes. Pascella could see it, she had never been a terribly gleeful girl, always masking her sorrows, whatever they may be, behind a neatly practised smile that hung there day after day, until people began to forget she was sad and believed the expression on her face to be genuine. Pascella knew differently, she knew of unhappiness and she knew what one would do to cover it up, she could see the true sorrows behind Irene’s eyes but they were not as common as they perhaps would have been; something else was bothering the girl. Not to mention, Pascella was well aware of Irene’s distance with her aunt, how her niece avoided her more so now than she would have done before.

"There was no intrusion Irene, do not apologise." Pascella said, her tone holding much concern for the younger across from her holding a candlestick. It was easy to see Irene was quick to scuttle off and avoid any coming conversation Pascella might want to have with her, but Pascella was certain that was not going to happen. "Forgive me for startling you.”

"Wait." She said almost urgently, so that Irene would not run off too quickly and hide herself away in her bedchamber’s and allow her thoughts to plague her there. Pascella touched her arm and met her gaze with concern. "What is that is bothering you?" There was certainly something. Pascella always did have excellent observation but why wouldn’t she? She had little to do all day but stare at the expressions of people, watch them and read them as though they were open books, being able to see true happiness and sorrow when it presented itself. Yes, Irene had never been a terribly happy being but her sorrow now was out of the ordinary, as was her strange behaviour.

"You do know you can tell me anything, don’t you?" Her heart truly went out to the girl, she didn’t want Irene to go to her room and fret when she could easily come to Pascella with her matters and she would listen. "I won’t tell a soul. You can trust me." She edged in a small gentle smile to her niece, finding she would be truly hurt if Irene believed she couldn’t confide in Pascella, who would not breathe a word to anyone. 

[irenehaelstarv]

     Just as she had suggested her departure, she was halted. Had Pascella been merely a woman, Irene would have committed to retreating from her presence. But she held an astounding authority over Irene; one that could not be defied. With reluctance, Irene forced a pause before her eyes settled upon Pascella in a doleful gaze. Furthermore, the queen's inquiry left her taciturn whilst she frantically contemplated an excuse. Her eyes widened and her lips pressed into a thin line, though words failed her. There was prolonged silence between the two; only the whistle of winter's breeze to accompany the desolate fortress.

     "Nothing is wrong." Irene was monotone and only a single corner of her lips turned up in attempt to validate truth to her deception. "I just haven't been sleeping well." That much had been true, though for reasons she could not affirm. Dare she blame Deston's last conversation with her? While it did leave her moderately shaken, it was in the least of her priorities to have concern for. 

     Setting aside the candle, Irene took a step forth to Pascella to extend her hand in offering as a comforting gesture. "I know His Majesty is unkind to you and one day, you will be mirthful again. I promise." Her gaze was sympathetic, maintaining as much amiable demeanor as she could. "From the outside looking in, any woman would wish to be in our places. But they don't know, do they? They don't know that truly, they are far more fortunate than us. I've always dreamed of a simple life whilst other little girls dream of becoming a princess. Better a happy peasant than a lonely queen." At this, Irene choked over her own words, desperately attempting to repress any excessive sentiment. Bowing her head momentarily to seek a moment of relief, a heavy sigh sounded from her parted lips whilst her sight remained cast down.

     "You needn't be so lonesome like I, Majesty. I will assure of that for you. You were not destined to the same ill fate as I. That was intended for your sister. You've suffered a long while." Turning her gaze back to the candle momentarily, her eyes again met with Pascella's. "Would you like to accompany me back to my chambers? I have an early morning."

[altofairbayne-deactivated201407]

More Than Words | Drago and Irene

He sat in one of his lounging chairs, his dark eyes fixated on the pile of books that he had placed on the table beside the chair. Subconsciously, he chewed his lip as he stared. She most likely wouldn’t like them, Drago concluded in his mind as he thought to shove the books to the floor. Perhaps she preferred jewelry or a new dress to wear. Normally that’s what women want yes? Drago had not a clue, which was rather ironic for a man who bed so many. Drago groaned as he rubbed his face in frustration. He hadn’t really drank anything today since he was going to try to see Irene and go to the banquet tonight. Normally everyone would be expecting him to be toppling over with every step, but he liked to keep people on their toes every once in a while.

Looking around the room it seemed strange. He had cleaned some of it up, but the maids had done the rest. It even smelled nice. Getting up out of his chair, Drago gazed at himself in the mirror, adjusting himself from every angle. Like every other day, he wore black. Even the undershirt he wore beneath his vest was black. His sister would often poke crude comments about him being a widower in mourning and then she would make a snide remark about how she died before they even said their vows. To Drago the vows were just a superficial security. In his mind they were already married.

He exited his chambers, this time with the utmost stealth. Following the shadows he walked into the main garden, the books tucked under his arm. A while ago, he could have sworn that he overheard someone saying that Irene walked in the garden by herself. If only he could speak to her…

Within another step, Drago collided with a solid figure, causing him to drop the books from under his arm. He flinched with each thud that he heard, hoping that they weren’t too damaged. As he began to apologize, Drago scooped down to pick the books up again. He paused when he saw a pair of delicate hands picking them up as well. His dark eyes lifted upwards to meet with the eyes of Irene Haelstarv. Most people’s eyes were easy to read, but this woman’s eyes seemed to have a spell over them that Drago couldn’t get past.

“My Lady,” Drago said bowing to her and then rose when he picked up the last book. 

[irenehaelstarv]

     Irene might have presumed she was secluded from the festivities for so least as an hour to accompany the garden. Part of her awaited Rodrick's sudden approach, her head perking up in excitement with every movement of a shadow, only to be dismayed when the shadow was nothing but a tree swaying against the light breeze. A majority of her time had been spent with the gift he had bestowed, though she remained alone among company that could not converse with her; company that could not console her.

     Intending to part ways with the garden to return to where she was expected, Irene bid a final tearful farewell as though parting with a fraction of her soul. Weaving through the garden with her head cast down to conceal her clouded eyes in the scenario of encountering a resident, her steps were haste.

     Only moments later had she mindlessly collided with a figure garnished in dark attire. Her immediate reaction had been to apologize frantically before kneeling to retrieve the lost items as she brashly swiped at her cheeks to rid of her sorrow. "I'm so sorry." She pleaded while gathering the scattered books into her hands, stacking one atop another. Retracting from the ground, she offered the books back to the figure only to be disdained by the visage she came acquainted with. She blinked once and awkwardly returned the books with an unwavering gaze fixated on his. 

     "Your Highness." She corrected him with a misplaced ego. "I am Your Highness, Irene. I am to be queen. I hadn't assumed you of all people would forget that." Folding her arms across her chest to depict a hint of discomfort, she furrowed her brows and sniffled once. "What are you doing out here, anyway? The festivities are inside. I'm sure they have plenty of wine to your liking."

[daughtertothewest]

The rustling of the fabric against stone and thigh implied that the form before Nevaeh was female, and it was confirmed as the smooth voice sliced through the night air. Her hands came together in front of her lap, fingers woven gently together. 

"And what flowers are they?" If she had been a hound, her ears would have visibly perked up. The woman had special flowers, and she wished to know which, so her mind’s eye could conjure up the image of the flora. One side of her lips quirked upwards, an enigmatic smile. "I do reside here, although I do not pretend to know everyone. Who is he that bestowed you these flowers?"

She heard her stand, the way her cloak moved about her and finally settled, swaying only slightly once she had fully returned to her old height. She was close to Nevaeh’s size, but taller still. “Irene.” Her head tilted in respect, unblinking eyes closing for just a moment. “I have heard of you. They say you are beautiful.” She paused a moment in silence, creating an image of the newcomer in her mind. “I am Nevaeh Tyce of Queensgarden. Welcome to my home, Irene Haelstarv of Winterhaven.”

[irenehaelstarv]

     "I'm... not sure." Irene confessed with some dismay. "I originate from Winterhaven. Flowers cannot sprout in the cold. My knowledge is limited."

     Irene found herself gazing curiously into the girl's pale eyes, pitying her loss. It seemed to be a essential sense, though the girl hadn't appeared quite so distressed by this. It forced Irene to reconsider her own misfortunes, though she quickly dismissed the thought with a smile the girl could never see. "His name is Rodrick. He is my good friend."

     Another step forth and she shifted her gaze from the girl's eyes, guilt overwhelming her sentiment for staring. At the remark of Irene's appearance, she hummed a flattered chuckle, finding she was immensely demure to discover she had been regarded as so.

     "They?" She inquired. "I'm flattered, but there are many beautiful women. You features are quite ravishing, too."

     At the mention of her name, Irene was joyous. Tyce. She was a Tyce and therefor, a friend in name. "So you do know Rodrick. You are his sister. He writes to me of you." He never mentioned she was without sight, though perhaps he was by now long accustomed to her condition nor would he deem it necessary to mention as much.

[tyceleone-deactivated20131105]

         Leone was startled when she spoke- if not offended. It made him sound like one of those lords who deemed themselves kigs of the entire world, but no one had ever spoken to him in such manner. A deep frown was to be carved on his handsome face, if it wasn’t for her apology. He righted himself from the posture of surpise, and cleared his throat. The woman surely had some nerve. He did also.

         “Apology accepted” he tried to make his tone as quipish as possible as to not insult her directly. Father wouldn’t have liked it, nor would his mother. Even Rodrick would be infuriated if a guest was presented with his bitter attitude while on their birthday. “Thank you, my Lady.” A small inclination of his head, just for proper etiquette and eyes of steel were focussed on her face. “Oh, I merely wanted to rest my tired spirit for a whle. It has been a restless day, has it not?” He took one  or two steps closer. “I was about to ask you the same, to be honest. However, you answered me alredy. What are you grieving about, Lady -” Either his memory was deceiving, or he had no knwoledge of her name.

[irenehaelstarv]

     "Highness." Irene muttered beneath her breath. "Royal Highness. I am to be the queen."

     As though ashamed, she glanced down nervously and laced her fingers before her where her thumbs proceeded to fidget against each other. With her sight still cast down, she muttered inaudible words of prayer, reminded of her own disdain and anguish. Glancing back up to meet with his eyes, her features appeared stoic, though her fingers laced tighter and turned the tips of her nails a soft hue of red.

     "I don't like titles. Just refer to me as Irene. It pleases me most." She stated with a soft smile. "What is it that you wished to be called?"

     Glancing back to the five flowers momentarily, her eyes returned to Leone thoughtfully. Again, she muttered a few inaudible words beneath her breath that were this time intended for Leone. However, she failed to speak up. Biting back her lip, she again attempted to explain herself.

     "Grieving my memory; my life. It will be gone soon." She said. "I am already nearly a shell of who I once was. Rodrick, your brother, gave those to me when I was last here." Gesturing to the five flowers evenly displayed, she expressed a fond smile. "He writes to me things about you. Kind things."

[tyceleone-deactivated20131105]

        Everybody seemed to be enjoying hemselves much more than Leone was. He was accustomed to the feeling after all those years of not being able to stand celebrations. It was even worse how he had to share his special day with his brother, Rodrick. Knowing exactly how to act to help himself feel less irritated, he departed the ballroom and strode towards the garden. HIs brother could enjoy himself all he wanted without his presence, which he had no doubt would happen.

         At the gardens he found a lady sitting above the flowers. His first reaction was leave the territory she so rightfully claimed, yet he couldn’t. She seemed determined to protect their flowers with her life, at least that was what he saw in her stance. “Are you lost, My Lady” he inquired, not caring if he startled her or not.

[irenehaelstarv]

     Her solitude was interrupted as though she were forsaken a moment alone with her memory. A chance to mourn her own life. Frustration overcame her sentiment as she neglected to do so much as acknowledge the voice to inquire of such meaningless things. With her sight fixated on the five flowers, she bit down harshly on her lower lip before resorting to replying brashly.

     "I am in mourning." She responded, her tone conveying she wished to be left alone. "I am anything but lost. Let me grieve alone."

     Finally turning to spare the man a single glance, her eyes fell apologetically without any hesitation. Her lips parted to excuse herself, though words first failed her. Heaving a large breath, she again attempted to express her apologies. This was not merely a man, but Rodrick's brother. "Forgive me. I did not know." Removing herself from her seated stance, she brushed her hands against her skirts thrice times. Turning to face him, she attempted a doleful smile.

     "Happy natal day, my Lord. Might I ask why you are out here?"

[daughtertothewest]

The hall was, as to be expected, crowded and flush with revelers and merrymaking - while this made for excellent celebrating, it turned the room into a spinning trap of ever-moving obstacle which Nevaeh could not keep track of, nor consistently avoid. After talking with several guests and greeting those who her mother appointed her to, she had her maid take her out to the gardens, before asking her to leave so she could wander alone. It did not take long before she reached a point that man breached nature, and the rustling of skirts pierced through the sound of flowers.

"Do the flowers call to you in a way wine does not?" Her head canted, unseeing eyes turned in the direction of the noise, but looking past the person before her.

[irenehaelstarv]

     Startled by the voice, expecting she was in solitude, Irene turned to acknowledge the source of the voice. There stood a young girl whom looked not to Irene's figure, but beyond that. Furrowing her brows, she hesitated to respond as she glanced around to verify that the girl was indeed speaking to her. She pursed her lips before responding idly, fixating her gaze back on the five flowers planted before her.

     "These ones do." She regarded them with utter fondness as she spoke, implicating they had special quality. "When I last came here, a dear friend gave these to me. Perhaps you know him. Do you reside here?"

     Retracting from the ground, she turned on her heel to face the girl, though found herself troubled by the mere fact that she failed to meet her gaze. She appeared to stare elsewhere. Upon closer observation, Irene recognized her eyes were a pale shade; clouded. "Oh." Irene muttered to herself, nearly apologetic. "I am Irene. Irene Haelstarv."