a single muse blog for eirik sigurdsson, regent of norway. written by rawr, she/her, gmt+1
— please dni if you're not affiliated with @theopulenthq
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@rcgcnt
a single muse blog for eirik sigurdsson, regent of norway. written by rawr, she/her, gmt+1
— please dni if you're not affiliated with @theopulenthq
It is a piece of normalcy of which Victoria can grasp on to, a grin growing on her face until it transformed into a smile the more she convinced herself that she could not be in safer company. She nodded, hastening to the water's edge before she kicked off her silver slippers and dipped her feet into the water beside him. "What a splendid idea... and you always have the most splendid ideas," she beamed. Feeling the waves ebb and flow against her skin, pushing her feet in any which gentle direction, seemed to be the only certainty left in the world, besides that she always had a family to fall back on in the midst of her fear. "I must confess something..." her voice grew quiet, "I have not been sleeping very well since that night on our ship."
With his familial situation being precarious enough already, there are some thoughts that would better remain unspoken. One of those being that he sees Victoria as family. It was unfair favoritism, he knew, to pour himself into a daughter who was not her own just because she had lost a father, when his own sons barely saw him.
It was guilt, too, for keeping Harald's secrets to himself, and letting her family fall apart — there must have been something, anything, he could have done to prevent it.
Eirik surrounds the young woman's shoulders with his arm and squeezes her into a reassuring embrace, kissing the top of her head as he does.
"I would be surprised if one of us wasn't at least a little shaken. What is on your mind? Are you scared?"
he wasn't immune to feelings of fatigue or needing some time away from crowds. when such feelings struck, teddy viewed it not as a negative but rather a perfect opportunity to dedicate some time to his art. easel, canvas, and paints in hand, he made his way along the beach in search of the ideal place. the shoreline gorgeous wherever one looked but no place yet called to the artist. he nearly passed by his father entirely - here the last place he expected to see a man teddy often associated with the closed door of a study. ❝ i don't want to interrupt. ❞
"There are things and moments that can be interrupted, and others that can only be improved." He knew he had been a busy man for too long a time, but that notion only extended to his activities behind close doors, not to him quietly soaking his feet in cold water. "I haven't watched you paint in a while. If you'd like to stay, I can't think of anything more soothing to do."
@umitvar (anette, at the garden picnic)
To attend such a simple gathering was a breath of fresh air in the increasingly oppressive atmosphere after the revelation of the Queen's death, and then of too many suspects to feel at ease. Then again, none of them could be linked back to Norway, which was a strange kind of relief. He soiled his hands once, and would not want to have another weight of that kind on top of that on his shoulders, not even as an innocent suspect.
Between the noise and chaotic stimuli of children laughing and yelling and running around, he sees one of the King's daughters and decides to approach.
"Anette. I hope you are enjoying yourself."
@whispcrings @flcralhaze @gloriousncss (your choice! at the beach. not a group starter.)
The ocean is somehow different and all the same. The breeze is cold and smells of sea salt, but even if he closed his eyes, his senses reminded him that he wasn't home. Could be the distinct lack of the odor of raw fish, which he most associates with the shore he grew up in. Still, the waves are calming, and the regent has decided to distance himself from the crowds to put himself in a less than regal position: sitting on cold, wet stone, with his pants rolled up to his knees, and bare feet inside the water — proper etiquette be damned.
"Care to join me?"
Cailean parted their lips as if to speak, but no words came out. They still did not have the right words to describe their person. He was not a spouse, not really. Nor were they courting, again, not really. A pang of frustration welled within their heart, a testament to the ridiculousness of this society. They should not have to hesitate to admit their relationship to anyone, even if they weren't formally courting. “Nah, he is merely a friend whom I’m very fond of.” The words barely scratched the surface of the emotions stirring within them, but they knew better than to reveal more. It was a dangerous time, and who knew what anyone might do with that information.
“We should all go out dancin’ once this mess is over. Ye can bring yer spouse along, and we can show ye how to have some proper fun in the true Scottish way.”
A friend, yes... He's heard that before, but wouldn't be so bold as to ask about the details, especially when the wording is telling enough. There probably is a good reason why private matters should remain private.
"I would like that. Titles and expectations aside, I'm quite sure our ways are not that dissimilar. And I trust that when the time comes, I will be able to trick Silje into having some fun as well."
END.
"has age really set into your bones in such a manner? i would expect someone of your caliber to be young and spry - though perhaps i am simply projecting hope onto the ether for my own bones after forty." ulrich chuckles, sitting up to his father's level. eirik's gaze made him nervous; a father who paid so much attention to his son surely would notice if his character was even slightly off. "never? have you not wished to explore the world?"
"I'm afraid you are the son of a valet, not a fisherman, so I cannot say how your bones will fare after forty. Mine did quite well for a very long time, mind you," in fact, he could swear it was the regency and not the age which caused his health to go on a slight decline. But he still hopes for a long life to enjoy after he finally gives the throne to another.
"I think I barely even knew there was a vast world outside my hometown. When I was younger, my greatest dream was that my father would let me go to work with him. But he had plenty of hands already, so most days I stayed with your grandmother. It wasn't less demanding work, just far less exciting. Then I started working for the court and met your parent, so whatever curiosity I had—" he chuckles. "I always hoped to imprint some of that on you all. But it seems like it worked a lot better for Teddy than it did for you."
[ adjustment : norway's estate room @ paço imperial palace ]
would become a mad ruler themself if left unchecked. fortunately, eirik refused to do so, the echo of his touch playing in their mind as they comb out the curls near the end of their black - and - pepper hair. a trembling breath as they set the brush down, then, hand hesitating over it, pick it back up to begin the strokes anew. glancing in the mirror at their husband behind. "i think we should've moved elsewhere years ago." implication evident: when will he follow through on his promise? but now: something more dreadful, in their mind, runs amok. "christiana is now on the line to be suspect. we've nothing in this race for spain's power, nor madagascar's odd liaisons. . ."
drawing on old years of experience, smoothing the bristles through strands until scalp tingles and hand begins to shake. "but in the face of an assertive country such as russia, or spain itself, that won't matter. and our children." it breaks here: the worry, the grief. did they not wish alongside queen malaika for better fortune and health? "what is next, if he does not reclaim the throne?"
“We have nothing to gain from this tragedy, nor any political enemies who will benefit from framing us. It could have happened on our vessel, or anywhere else. It is precisely because it happened on the Naglar that it makes no sense to suspect us, nor the kids, Silje." Eirik comes closer and places his hands on their shoulders, pressing gently on them, and leaning down to kiss the top of their head, hesitantly but no less reverently. "I trust that anyone will see that."
Silence follows as he is once again thrown back into the conversation. The regent swallows, and takes a deep breath before he finally decides to voice the concerns that have plagued him for a long time now: "Will it really be good for anyone if he does?" He whispers. "Can he even lead anymore?"
The memories of bagpipes echoing in the night mixed with the sound of the cackling fire flashed before their eyes. Two soldiers, clad in the Fergusson clan’s colors, danced over the swords placed in a cross on the grass, their kilts swaying to the rhythm of the music. It was nothing like the royals dancing in these grand halls, but it was still the most incredible dance they knew. “Aye, both at once.” The reminiscence of home and their more carefree youth warmed their smile. “I cannae blame ye if that’s the case. The one person I would want to dance with is nowhere to be seen, so I’ve been forced to dance with strangers all night. And I can tell ye, it’s not as fun.”
"That sounds impressive. I think I would like to see that someday," he notices the joy in their expression, and the idea piques his interest even more than it did before. "And, you know, if you ever wanted to delight the rest with your dancing skills, my spouse happens to be an excellent planner of events. Formal, mostly, but I think they would enjoy a challenge."
"I take it's not a spouse in your case. Someone you're courting? If you'd forgive my indiscretion," a smirk appears on the regent's lips, unashamed and unapologetic. There will never be a day when he doesn't enjoy sticking his nose in other people's affairs.
where: the top deck of the naglar
status: open to norway, china, scotland, spain, and thailand (0/2)
it was unlike the eldest sigurdsson to lay in rest, gaze meeting the sunny skies over the sails of the naglar - many of those who has passed look upon him with a sort of bewilderment that had secretly made him nervous. surely his brother had fun on such voyages? who would be as silly as to not enjoy the adventure of sailing around the world? johannes had only dreamed of such things. "i'm sorry? did you say something?" he prompts, only moving his head to the side toward where the sound of the voice had come from. "you may join me if you wish."
"I asked if you were enjoying the view, but I believe you just answered me." It filled him with quiet joy that both of his sons happened to enjoy the ocean, like he once did. "I'm afraid that if I lay down like that, I might not be able to get back up," Eirik chuckles. But he takes part of the offer and sits down next to the other, carefully but gracelessly. He is a strong man still, but the wear of his joints is unforgiving.
"Brazil," he mutters, "I don't think I've ever dreamed of traveling that far."
providing their spouse a knowing look. regardless of any distance, things cannot simply be unknown about one another. and to avoid the propriety and to hope that the king would receive the majority of the attention is characteristic. not that they mind, not truly. in the back of their thoughts, silje often wished that the king had never left, had never handed over his title. and yet, here they were. with a strange bit of strain on their hands that no one knew how to navigate. "there will be music. i hope it will calm you. i asked the musicians to include the minuet that we danced to."
it had been at their wedding ceremony — and echoed one of the minuets that they had first danced to when denmark had visited norway. "they give you all of that attention because no one can resist your charms, and i can't blame them." glossing over the topic, but not ignoring it entirely. "the king will have plenty of breath saved for him as the days move on. right now, it's all for you."
"That is... expectedly thoughtful of you." He doesn't need any further explanation for memories to fill his mind, and nostalgia his heart. And love, unaltered albeit bittersweet. "I think," Eirik speaks, with a lower tone, and a finger that playfully taps the tip of the other's nose, "that might just be you projecting."
Will they be as eager to converse with the infamous mad king, he wonders? Again a thought quickly pushed away, but the mention of him gives way to another question, one he has been burning to ask. "When he reclaims the throne" and he needs to refrain from adding finally, 'when he finally—', "would you like to stay in Christiania? Or move somewhere else, perhaps?"
teddy started at the sound of his father's voice. the mountains was the last place he'd expected to see him. then again, he didn't know many places his father would be other than his office. his smile was still instantenous. ❝ not at all, father. ❞ the son would never say no to spending time with his father, not when it was rare due to how busy he normally was. ❝ can you believe how many butterflies there are? ❞
"I had no idea there were this many butterflies in the entire world, let alone in a single place." Even during his regency, he still wasn't one for travel, keeping himself mostly to internal affairs, their neighbors and the few countries they engaged in trade with. Ironically, he may have traveled a valet than as the regent. That is why he encouraged his children to do things differently, and see the vast world outside their borders, and witness its wonders, while they still were young enough to enjoy it. "Have you ever seen something like this in your travels?"
With precision usually reserved for the battlefield, Cailean threaded between the dancers, evading hopeful eyes yearning for a partner. Only when they reached the outskirts of the garden, where drinks flowed freely, did they breathe for the first time that night. "Ach, I like dancin' well enough," they admitted, "but I have never quite managed to master that kind of dancin'." Cailean gestured towards the dancers moving in a circle, their skirts swirling around, mesmerizing anyone witnessing it. "The dances I'm comfortable with often involve swords and bagpipes. If I were to try this, I'm sure I'd step on everyone's toes. What about ye? What's yer excuse?"
"Swords and bagpipes... Separately, or both at once?" the regent jokes lightheartedly. He could barely empathize with a liking of swords — he had learned the basics of fencing and practiced with the King at times, but would not consider himself passionate about it. "My spouse is working at the moment, and there is hardly anyone in there I would rather dance with. Is that a good enough excuse, or should I mention too how I am not fond of dancing in places where truly enjoying oneself is considered improper?"
Victoria felt like a Snow Queen, draped in elegant crystal blue fabric connecting adornments that looked like snow at her waist, the same sparkles clutching around her upper arms as the sleeves flowed out so low it made her feel like she could fly. Everything felt so magical before the night had begun, but after hours of merely spectating all of the fun, it was all surprisingly... boring. At least the stars would prove to be more entertaining as she wandered out into the night. "That was the plan, to be certain," she sighed, defeatedly, "But no one has asked me to dance..." It was as though the romantic haze around her head had begun to fade only slightly, or like a bright cloud had begun to turn grey before it rains. "That is how it's done, is it not? One must be asked to dance?"
It breaks Eirik's heart to see the sadness in Victoria's eyes, always so lively. They should stay that way, especially in a night of celebration. Not that he is celebrating much himself, but she should be having a good time. "Well, that… It depends. While it is customary that a lady waits to be asked, I think etiquette shouldn't get in the way of having a good time. Sometimes, it is the lack of manners that will get you married— but don't take that too literally," he quickly adds. The statement had way too many nuances to its truth to be universal advice.
A roguish smile curls on his lips. "Is there anyone in particular you would like to dance with?" There are many young people around her age, probably more than she's ever seen gathered in a single place.
arched brow, but acceptance of the glass. sparing no hesitance to turn in greeting to their husband, feeling the seams of their face relax upon his presence. the attempt at flirting — well. it was rather lovely. it even brought about a small smirk upon silje's lips, which had been dusted with pearlescent powder to match the blues of the chosen traditional-wear. "dashing? me? aren't you meant to be the dashing one?" silje remembers his charisma. they do not believe it to have completely broken away from him, only having become somewhere tucked in the back of his mind. they are weary, however, of attempting to pull it out. "i must make sure it goes smoothly, as much as it can, my dear. and watch over you as i always have."
no regrets, at least to this part of things. but to the following: "i wasn't expecting to see you until after the candles' lighting." soft and gentle, just for him. not to necessarily spare anything, but because they still wish for things to be — good. and it was no secret that both had been heavily occupied. "you seemed to be carried away in something every time i caught a glimpse of your handsome silver collar."
"Am I? I always thought my charm lied in the opposite. The work clothes, and the infractions of protocol— not this." His elegant attire feels nearly as borrowed as his station. It adds to the discomfort of a behavior that still doesn't come naturally to him, but has been practiced for so long that he doesn't know any other way. The proper smiles, the white lies, the empty conversations, collecting interlocutors around the room for no reason other than making oneself seen.
"I had hoped they would leave me alone this evening," Eirik confesses in a low voice, only for his spouse to hear, "and save their breath for the King. Wishful thinking." Just mentioning him leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, like he shouldn't be mentioned, especially not around Silje, and ideally never at all. "There will still be music after the candles, right?"
open starter ╱ national norway day celebration. status: accepting replies
The thrill of the numerous dances had already passed, and most candles had been blown out. Plenty of people had already left, and Faolan finally could enjoy himself: the silent night was inviting in a way the company of others could rarely be. He sat down in a corner, observing the stars, coat already off. He drank a bit of wine and looked over to a bystander, bowing his head slightly. "I think now it's time to wind down, no? Do you drink?"
"About time," he feels inclined to agree. Most of the guest, his spouse and children, had already called it a night, white Eirik had decided to stay behind. Certainly not because he wished to continue engaging in conversation with near strangers, but the opposite. As the room began to empty, a comforting silence began taking over it as well. "I wonder, if I was seen stumbling through the hallways at night, whether people would think I had a good evening, or the opposite," the regent muses, as he reaches for one of the bottles left by the service and pours himself a glass. "Fortunately, I can still handle my alcohol, because I could indeed use a drink."
@tormxntum
It is well past midnight, but the even hasn't yet ended. After the concert, the crowd has scattered around the gardens. Some of the attendants have left for their beds already, but the regent has decided to stay. At a distance, where he can observe the dancing without actually partaking in any of it. He is enjoying himself, nevertheless. As someone else enters his field of vision, approaching his personal refuge next to the refreshments, Eirik raises a glass in greeting. "Not a dancer?"