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Author Topic: Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 18  (Read 2751 times)

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Offline Evie

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 18
« on: July 15, 2010, 10:20:47 pm »
Chapter 18


   “Oh dear, this can’t be right!”

   Sophie read the report sent to her by a courier from the Earl of Carthane’s court with growing horror.  

   “What can’t be right?”  Celsie asked, craning her neck to examine a page her house-sister had set down on the table.  

   “This report from the Earl’s assessment of Kestrel Mote’s finances!  If this is correct, Stefan and I are practically penniless!”   
   
   Ailidh set down her mending and moved to sit closer to Sophie at the table.  “Let’s have a look,” she said, reaching for the pages Sophie had already perused and set aside.  “You can’t be penniless, or you’d not be here.  Your father’s sent you to Court for a noblewoman’s polishing; that requires a certain amount of maintenance money just for basic upkeep, even if you’re not extravagant with it—which you haven’t been.  I’ve sure he’s got funds for you set aside somewhere.”

   “No, you don’t understand.  That was Alienora’s money.  With my father’s death, it all went back to her.  Why would she want to spend it on Kestrel Mote, or share any of it with me or with Stefan?  We’re not blood-kin.”

   Ailidh’s gray-green eyes looked up from the pages, understanding suddenly dawning.  “Oh.”

   “So, how bad is it?”  Celsie asked, concern reflected in her summer sky eyes.  “I imagine there’s a little reserve left to get you through to next harvest, at least…isn’t there?  You might have to cut expenses a bit, only spend money on absolute necessities until the crop revenues come in and the tithe’s been paid….”

   Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.  “Sweet Jesú, and to think I harped on Father so much for marrying that shrew!  This must have been a large part of the reason why.”

   Celsie sighed.  “All right, let’s think.  Your father married your stepmonster, what, two years ago?”

   “Yes.  Well, a little closer to three years now, but not too far back.”

   “So, she had her dower, which of course she’s got back now, but there would’ve been a bit of dowry as well that would have been Sir Ranulf’s—or, in this case, his family’s—to keep, no matter what.  Is there any of that left?”

   Sophie double-checked a page of the report and shook her head.  “Apparently not.  Most went back into the estate in the form of manor repairs, and a bit went into purchasing more seed to start over after we lost most of our harvest two years in a row due to crop blight.  And of course Stefan was knighted not long before Father remarried; that raised certain expenses that had to be recouped somehow.  Not to mention his own Court education….”  She shoved the papers away from her, burying her head in her crossed arms.  “None of it’s been frittered away, but still…it’s just gone!”

   Celsie, reading over Ailidh’s shoulder, nodded. “I think I see what your father was intending to do.  If he’d stuck to his plan, I think Kestrel Mote would’ve been completely in the clear again in just a couple more years, and then assuming no more bad harvests or other catastrophes for a while, your estate would be restored and making a profit again.  Some of that could've been set aside into an emergency fund for the next crisis to come along, and then once that was taken care of, he'd have no more need to rely on Alienora's dower.  She'd still have enough left over for her own basic needs after he was gone, assuming he'd continued in good health for several more years, and Kestrel Mote and his heirs' needs would also be taken care of.   You see here, and here,” she said, pointing out the relevant categories, “he was starting to set aside a little bit for that.  But he hadn’t counted on dying so soon, and you and Stefan not having Alienora’s inheritance money to work with.”  She gazed into the distance, lost in thought.  “Of course, for this plan to have worked, Alienora would’ve had to have gone along with it, but from her end of things, he was pouring the money into providing a better home for her.  With him leaving her a widow, though, it’s no longer her home, unless of course you invite her to stay, so she has no vested interest in improving it anymore.”

   “Or in maintaining two stepchildren she never wanted anyway.”  Sophie sat up again with a sigh.  “Well, I'll invite her, if Stefan isn't able to—with her carrying Father's child, I'd feel honor-bound to anyway—but I doubt she'll want to stay.  Not unless Stefan dies, she has a son, and I decide never to return home, at any rate.  She'd want to be mistress of her own demesne.”  She snorted.  “Now she might see that as a good return on her investment—spending money to keep me here in Rhemuth so she can keep Kestrel Mote all to herself.  But I doubt it.”  She shook her head sadly.  “She's never really had much good to say about the estate, aside from it being close enough to her own lands to make family visits convenient.”

   “Oh, I'm sure those were fun!” Aildh muttered.  “Hello, de Nore step-things!  Do come in, have a sit-down, would you like some sherry? And do ignore that shiral in the corner nook; it's not the evidence of our eternal damnation you're looking for....”

   Sophie burst into a reluctant laugh.  “Oh, I think not!  Father would've had kittens if we'd had anything around to link us to the dreaded Deryni!”  She sobered.  “I've got to convince her to stay, though.  Not only because of the finances; there's the baby to consider.”

   “I hate to say this, but...can't you insist the baby stay at Kestrel Mote, even if Alienora decides to leave?”  Celsie bit her lip, looking like she hated the thought but felt she had to bring it up anyway.  “I know it sounds a bit heartless, but the baby is a de Varnay, so legally any child of your father's would belong to his blood-kin, not to her and hers.  Especially if it turns out to be a son and, God forbid, if Stefan doesn't recover.  He'd be the sole de Varnay heir, in that case.  And would you want the heir to a Deryni house being raised by the de Nores?”

   “Then again, trying to take the baby away from his mother would start up a battle royale with House de Nore, now wouldn't it?  Especially if you couldn't go into the real reason why.  Or...maybe especially if you did!”  Ailidh looked a bit sick at the thought.  “They may not be as powerful as they once were, but they’ve still got a lot more wealth and clout than House de Varnay.”

   “Oh God, I can't think of all this right now!”  Sophie said, burying her head in her arms again.

   A knock sounded at the door, a welcome interruption to the distressed girl’s ears.  Ailidh went to see who it was.

   “Two gowns for delivery, my lady.  Where would you like them?”

   “Our gowns?”  Celsie looked at Ailidh, astonished.  “But we just ordered them yesterday!”

   Sophie stood, a wary look crossing her features.  “Wait…I think those might be mine.  Are they for Sophie de Varnay?”

   “Yes, m’lady!  For Lady Sophie de Varnay from Lady Alienora de Varney.  These’d be the ones, m’lady!”

   Ailidh held her arms out for the wrapped bundles. Celsie fumbled in her belt pouch for a coin, pressing it into the delivery maid’s hand for her service before Sophie could find one of her own to give her.  The maid curtseyed her thanks and left.

   “Shall we see what she ordered for you?”  Celsie said, eyes alight.

   Sophie took a deep breath.  “All right.  Let’s see what Alienora thinks would catch the eye of a King.”  She rolled her eyes, setting off a peal of giggles from Celsie.   

   Ailidh unwrapped the first bundle, unfolding the plain linen wrap to reveal a flash of iridescent blues, greens, and gold.  “Well, the colors are pretty enou—Oh dear merciful…!”  She burst into loud laughter as she shook the dress open, holding it up before her to show it off.

   Celsie’s mouth took on the shape of a large O.  “Oh sweet heaven…. Is that meant to be a bodice or just a wide belt?  And…are those feathers?”

   Sophie stared in dismay.  “She has got to be joking!”  She studied the lines of the gown Ailidh held.  At first glance, the style of the dress appeared appropriate enough, cut in the latest Bremagni fashion that was just starting to catch on at the Court of Rhemuth.  It wasn’t until one looked closer that one saw how low cut this particular gown was compared to others of similar style, not to mention that the materials used to create it were far more extravagant that was seemly for a young lady of Sophie’s humble rank and station.  “Are those…peacock feathers sewn into the skirt?  And…all those glittery bits….that’s gold-wrapped silk, isn’t it?”

   “Aye, it looks to be.  And I think she’s aiming to hire you as a wet nurse.  You’ll hardly even have to unlace!”  Ailidh’s laughter started up again.

   “It’s really not funny!”  Sophie gaped at the dress a bit longer, then finally gave in to her own sense of the ridiculous.  “All right, maybe it is in a way, but sweet Jesu, I can’t possibly wear that!”

   Another knock sounded, startling them all.  This time Celsie went to answer, opening the door to reveal Sir Seisyll standing in the corridor.

   “Good afternoon, ladies!  I was wondering if the three of you would care for a—“  He stopped, staring nonplussed at the gown Ailidh held.  “Is that…ah…the latest in ladies’ fashion?”

   Celsie’s giggles started up again.  “That’s Alienora’s idea of a parting gift to her dear stepdaughter.  One of them, anyway.  It’s meant to be a Kelson-catcher gown.”

   “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Celsie, would you shut the door already!”  Sophie whispered, mortified.

   Seisyll’s eyes met Sophie’s as he stepped further into the room so Celsie could do so, then slid back to the dress.  He sheltered a grin behind one hand, although it did nothing to mask the wicked laughter in his eyes.

   “Is it, now?  Well, I can see how it might…um…showcase certain attractions, and it’s certainly…er…eyecatching, but I think it’s more likely to send Kelson running out of the room ululating at high pitch, personally.”  He glanced down at the second bundle, half-forgotten on the floor.  “Is that the other Kelson-catcher?”

   Sophie buried her face in her hand, her mortification complete.  “Go ahead,” she said finally, looking back up at Ailidh.  “Let’s see it.”

   Ailidh lay the first gown across a nearby chair and unfolded the second bundle, shaking out the gown before her.  This one was of similar cut and style to the first, only fashioned out of cloth of gold and bedecked with spangles and semi-precious stones sewn into the trim.

   “So, once you’ve trapped Kelson in your cleavage with that first gown, you can wear this one for your Coronation,” Seisyll teased after the first stunned moments of silence.

   A burst of laughter escaped Sophie, though only because the only other recourse would’ve been tears.  “Would you all please shut up?  You’re not helping!  What am I going to do with these?!”

   “Well, that one could fly from the top of a lighthouse to reflect the light further.”

   “Seisyll!”  Sophie sent a look of mute appeal to her house sisters, but they were too busy chortling to be of any help.

   Another knock sounded.  “Oh, sweet Jesú, who is it now!” Sophie cried, thoroughly exasperated.   Ailidh tossed the second gown onto the first, burying both under the linen cloths that had originally wrapped them, then went to open the door.

   “Your Majesty!”  Ailidh’s eyes widened.  She sank into a low curtsey, the others in the room following suit in giving due reverence as soon as they saw Kelson standing in the doorway.

   “Good afternoon, ladies.  Arilan.”   A dark brow arched over the Haldane gray eyes as he saw his knight standing there with the three ladies-in-waiting.  He took a step into the room so Ailidh could close the door behind him, waving for all to rise from their reverences.  “A redhead, a blonde, and a brunette.  Sir Seisyll, I can’t possibly fault your excellent taste, but really, are you trying to collect the whole set?”

   The knight grinned.  “’A redhead, a blonde, and a brunette are newly-come to Court….’  That sounds like the set-up for a joke, Sire.”

   The royal brow arched further.  “It is.  And one, I trust, you’ll not be sharing in this company!”

   Blue-violet eyes looked startled, then wickedly amused.  “It really is?”  The grin grew.  “Tell me later, then.”

   Kelson snorted.  “Ask Morgan.”  He lifted the account book he held in silent reminder that he hadn’t stopped by just to banter with beautiful ladies and an attentive courtier.  “I’m sorry to interrupt the day’s pleasantries, but I need to speak with Lady Sophie for a few minutes.  In private.”  At the ladies’ startled look, he amended the request slightly.  “Retiring to an adjoining chamber will be fine, ladies.  This shouldn’t take very long.”  

   Ailidh and Celsie curtseyed respectfully, then retired to their bedchamber, Ailidh discreetly scooping up the armload of unwanted deliveries on her way out.

   Seisyll bowed to his King.  “Shall I return later, Lady Sophie?”

   “Yes, I suppose that would be all right.  You never did actually get around to saying what you’d come for,” she belatedly realized.

   “To make you smile,” he said, bowing over her hand before seeing himself out.

   Kelson watched the knight leave, then turned to Sophie.  “I truly am sorry to intrude, but I’ve a Council meeting later in the day, so I wanted to go ahead and get this out of the way quickly.”  He opened the book he held to pull out a bill of sale.  “This arrived on my desk today, in a bundle of correspondence dealing with Kestrel Mote’s accounts.  I was hoping you might be able to shed a bit of light on it.  I’m certain it must be a scribe’s error.”  He handed her the document

   Sophie’s eyes lit on the bill.  A moment later, as its import hit, they widened.  “Sweet merciful—“   Her jaw dropped open, closed again with an almost audible snap.  “She’s gone too far this time!  I am going to kill her!  She is going to die!”  Fire flashed in her hazel eyes as she slammed the parchment onto the table.  

   Kelson’s eyebrows threatened to crawl into his hairline, possibly in search of refuge.  “Who is, Lady Sophie?”

   “Alienora!”  The hazel eyes before him shimmered with angry tears.  “This—this amount could keep all of Kestrel Mote in food for six months! Six months!  It’s—this is obscene!”

   Kelson tilted his head at her, looking a bit confused.  “So it’s not a scribal error, then?”  He scanned the document again.  “But…surely she didn’t pay this much for only two gowns, did she?  Tell me that’s an error, at least?”

   Sophie, feeling dazed, sank into her chair.  “No, I’m afraid it’s not.  She ordered them shortly before she left Rhemuth.  I don’t know how far in advance; I didn’t know about the order until she mentioned it to me as they were leaving.”  She looked up, feeling helpless.  “It needs to come out of her inheritance money, not Kestrel Mote’s coffers, Sire.  I never wanted the gowns; they’re completely unsuitable.”

   “Ah.  So it’s too late to stop the order, then?  Though I suppose it makes little difference, if they’re to be charged to Alienora personally.”

   “I’m afraid so.  The gowns were delivered just a short while ago.”  She shook her head.  “Sweet Jesú, I’m not sure how I’m going to retain our staff until the next harvest, but I’ve got utterly unwearable gowns that could…oh, how I want to choke her!”

   Kelson took a seat beside her, poring through the documents she’d been studying earlier.  “Hm.  Carthane’s right, this looks pretty dire.”  He studied Sophie in sympathy for a long moment.  “Maybe the gowns could somehow be altered and resold?  You wouldn’t get the full amount, of course….”  He broke off as she started to laugh, a more hopeless sound than a merry one.

   “No one in their right mind would pay anywhere near that price for these gowns.  Trust me.”

   His lips twitched.  “I’m dying to see two gowns that could feed the entire household staff of a manor house for six months.”

   Sophie’s eyes widened in horror.  “Oh, no.  No, you really don't want that, Sire!”

   The speculative gleam grew in the young King’s eyes.  “No, really, I’m quite curious. I don’t spend that much on wardrobe, even for State occasions.  Well, maybe for my Coronation.”  He grinned.  “Look, my lady, can we just get this out on the table?  I’ve only met your stepmother twice, but I know her type.  You were probably told to catch a Haldane.” He smiled sympathetically as her cheeks turned crimson.  “That’s not your fault; I don’t hold it against you at all, and you’ve never once made me feel like I needed to do a full reverse and slip down a side corridor to escape you, for which I’m truly grateful.  So please, may I see the outfits?”

   She sighed.  “All right.  But…I should warn you, they’re quite ghastly.”  She stood, walking over to knock at her bedchamber door.  After a whispered conference with Celsie, and a burst of giggles from inside the other chamber, Sophie re-emerged with the two gowns in hand.

   Kelson stared.  “Those are….most…extraordinary gowns, Lady Sophie,” he finally managed.  The gray eyes lifted, meeting hers.  Hers looked pained.

   “I’ve been trying to think of some way—any way—to salvage them,” she confessed.  “But I can’t think of anything; can you?”

   He pressed his lips together, struggling not to laugh.  “I suppose the skirts could be remade into cloaks for the bull-baiters in Torenth.  As for the bodices….”  He lifted a hand to his mouth, pretending to consider the question seriously.  “They’re a little too scratchy to make proper handkerchiefs, but I’m not sure there’s enough fabric there for much else.  Belt pouches, maybe?”

   Sophie fell back into her chair, burying her face in her arms again.   She felt the King’s hand pat her shoulder.

   “All right, curiosity satisfied,” said the laughing voice behind her.  “I’ll forward the bill to Alienora.  Tell Seisyll I apologize for taking away from his courtship time.”

   Sophie’s head raised quickly as she looked up at Kelson, startled.  “Oh, but he’s not…”  Her cheeks pinked again.  “No, we’re just friends.”

   “I see.” The gray eyes studied her, speculative again.  “Your choice, or his?”

   “Sire?”  The hazel eyes were a study in confusion.

   Kelson sat again, meeting her eyes squarely.  “The man danced half the Christmas Court dances with you, has commandeered food from the Royal Kitchens to tempt your appetite, asked for leave to have a bottle of my best vintage from my cellars brought up for you...which, by the by, he has reimbursed me for out of his personal account, which was a princely sum to be spending from a knight's income.  Lady Sophie, if you’re not interested in his suit, you need to tell him that.  Because trust me, he’s courting you.”

   “I….Oh.”  She stared at Kelson dazedly.  “Really?”

   He chuckled.  “Do you know why I danced the fifteenth dance with you at Twelfth Night Revel?”

   She shook her head.  “No, Sire.”

   He smiled.  “Well, I wasn’t free yet for the first two, but I was told I didn’t get my request in fast enough for dances three to fourteen.  Now, of those dances, do you remember how many you spent partnered with Seisyll?”

   Another head shake.

   “Seven.  Another three you sat out, and I suspect he would’ve asked for more if he weren’t afraid of dropping dead from exhaustion.”  Kelson grinned.  “Accept it.  The man is courting you.”

   She dropped her eyes, looking suddenly shy.  “Why did you ask for that fifteenth dance, Sire?  I wasn’t expecting that at all!”

   “I know you weren’t.”  He stood.  “I have to do some dancing during the holidays, or my Council gets annoyed with me.  They say I don’t try hard enough to get to know you ladies.”  He sighed.  “And I know they’re right.  But it’s annoying to feel forced into merrymaking with women who are only after a Crown.  If I’m going to join in the revelry, at least I want to dance with someone who’s not chasing me, and who isn’t going to read a lot of significance and intent into a dance request that simply isn’t there.  And that leaves me precious few ladies near my own age to choose from.”  He bowed over her hand.  “Thank you for the dance, Lady Sophie.”

     He turned to walk out, leaving her staring after him.
   


Chapter 19:
  http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=563.0
« Last Edit: January 10, 2011, 03:24:29 pm by Evie »
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Offline Alkari

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 18
« Reply #1 on: July 16, 2010, 12:44:25 am »
Quote
"The man danced half the Christmas Court dances with you, has commandeered food from the Royal Kitchens to tempt your appetite, asked for leave to have a bottle of my best vintage from my cellars brought up for you...which, by the by, he has reimbursed me for out of his personal account, which was a princely sum to be spending from a knight's income.  Lady Sophie, if you’re not interested in his suit, you need to tell him that.  Because trust me, he’s courting you.”
*Dies laughing*    And the fact that it's the King who points all this out to the girl ...

And I loved the gowns, and the comments.  
Quote
“Well, that one could fly from the top of a lighthouse to reflect the light further.”
  Wonderful description!

Alienora clearly believes in BLING - she'd go well in Hollywood :D   Nice to see that Kelson will ensure the account is sent to her personally.

« Last Edit: July 16, 2010, 12:59:20 am by Alkari »

Offline AnnieUK

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 18
« Reply #2 on: July 16, 2010, 02:12:00 am »
It's normally the menfolk who don't spot when they are being chased, and the women who analyse ever sideways half-glance.  Kind of fun to have a man pointing it out to a woman - nice reverse.

Would like to hear the end of that joke, though ...

Offline Alkari

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 18
« Reply #3 on: July 16, 2010, 02:42:00 am »
Quote
But it’s annoying to feel forced into merrymaking with women who are only after a Crown.  If I’m going to join in the revelry, at least I want to dance with someone who’s not chasing me, and who isn’t going to read a lot of significance and intent into a dance request that simply isn’t there.  And that leaves me precious few ladies near my own age to choose from.
Yes, it's all very well for people to tell him to 'socialise', but it's very hard for a relatively shy young man to go out and do that, when everyone is going to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica into every slight glance, smile or gesture.   If Kelson were a totally different person, he'd go to the opposite extreme and just brazen it out by dancing with everyone and anyone, flirting happily with them all, to keep everyone guessing - but he's simply not that sort of man.  

Offline Evie

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Maidens of Mayhem Chapter 18
« Reply #4 on: July 16, 2010, 09:39:23 am »
Quote
It's normally the menfolk who don't spot when they are being chased, and the women who analyse ever sideways half-glance.  Kind of fun to have a man pointing it out to a woman - nice reverse.

Oh, I was nearly as dense as Sophie.   :D

Quote
Would like to hear the end of that joke, though ...

Heh.  You talk to Morgan a lot more than I do. Ask him.   ;D

Quote
And I loved the gowns, and the comments.

I wrote much of that bit in the office, between clients coming and leaving.  You have no idea how hard it is to keep a straight face and maintain outward professional decorum while Seisyll's in your head tossing unhelpful commentary in your direction....

Quote
Yes, it's all very well for people to tell him to 'socialise', but it's very hard for a relatively shy young man to go out and do that, when everyone is going to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica into every slight glance, smile or gesture.   If Kelson were a totally different person, he'd go to the opposite extreme and just brazen it out by dancing with everyone and anyone, flirting happily with them all, to keep everyone guessing - but he's simply not that sort of man.  

Yes!  Another person who sees Kelson as being, underneath all that outwardly composed and capable exterior, at least somewhat shy!  I think Kelson is also more naturally introverted than extroverted (introversion and shyness aren't the same thing...one can be introverted without being shy, and vice versa), and while he does his job very well, he has to stretch a bit out of his natural comfort zone to do so, and when he's tired at the end of a long day what he really wants more than anything else is to get away from all the crowds and just unwind with one or two friends, or a small handful at the very most.  Dhugal, on the other hand, seems to be more of an extrovert.  Sure, he's also happy to unwind with a small circle of friends, but look at their very different reactions on the evening after their knighting.  Kelson's just waiting for the long and tiring day to end, is trying to avoid unwanted notice, and when he finally gets around to his conversation with Rothana, he's rather shy about it and hopes for a quick rescue (which, of course, changes quickly once that conversation takes a different turn than he expects!  :D).  In the meantime, of course, Dhugal's dancing up a storm, hanging out with his Transha buds listening to (and probably singing) bawdy songs, and stealing kisses from the Earl of Carthane's daughter!  I think if there's an introverted bone in Dhugal's body, it's probably pretty lonely.   ;)  

I picked that up about Kelson early on, because I'm much the same way.  I come across as much more extroverted on the Internet because I'm communicating in my natural element, the written word.  In person, though, I'm much more comfortable in one-on-one situations or a small group than in a big crowd, and I'm somewhat shy.  I can do public speaking with little problem because there's a set script, I did college theatre and loved it--but then again, there's a set script, and once the house lights are down, the audience magically "goes away," so I feel freer to ham it up without so much self-consciousness.  I don't naturally seek out leadership positions, but when I'm placed in one, I generally do a good job.  I tend to lead more by building consensus and encouraging others rather than by putting myself forward and being 'large and in charge.'  Kelson, as a King, has to be a bit more directive, and sometimes I'm sure that puts him well out of his comfort zone, but he's got the training and the knowledge to do that well when he has to, and the support of others like Morgan and Nigel he can turn to when he needs some extra bolstering and direction.

I spent a few years as an SCA Court Baroness.  Courts were like a Dantean Circle of Hell for me, although my husband the extrovert thrived on them.  Hundreds of eyes on me, no set script, having to be genteel and gracious and think of just the right words to say when someone was called forward to receive an award.  I let my husband do most of the speaking.  I was certain my awkwardness was apparent to all, but time after time we received compliments from people saying how "regal" we looked on the dais.  "Oh, you smile so graciously up there!  You must really love sitting up there and being able to hand out all those awards...."  Well, OK, being able to reward people for their hard work--especially when the reward wasn't expected--was the part of the job that made it feel the most worthwhile.  But did I enjoy it?  Oh lordy, no!  The coronet gave me a headache, the large audience made me want to hide under the throne rather than sit there being stared at, the clock seemed to tick in half-time, and I just knew I'd make a fool of myself every time I opened my mouth.

I read Kelson's scenes now and wonder if the boy has times when he still feels that way, despite those years of Royal upbringing and careful training for the role he was born for.  Because no matter how good one gets at one's job, or how much training one has, it's really hard to completely override those natural-born inclinations.

And as for talking to ladies--I imagine that's awkward at times even for more extroverted adolescents like Dhugal.  Being told "you need to pick one, and pick carefully, because not only does she have to bear you an heir and a spare, she ought to be a proper Queen as well"...yeah, no pressure, none whatsoever, for a shy lad.   ::)
« Last Edit: July 16, 2010, 09:41:26 am by Evie »
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Offline AnnieUK

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« Reply #5 on: July 16, 2010, 10:04:54 am »
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Would like to hear the end of that joke, though ...

Heh.  You talk to Morgan a lot more than I do. Ask him.   ;D

He doesn't normally tell me bawdy jokes, though.

Offline Evie

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« Reply #6 on: July 16, 2010, 10:11:10 am »
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Would like to hear the end of that joke, though ...

Heh.  You talk to Morgan a lot more than I do. Ask him.   ;D

He doesn't normally tell me bawdy jokes, though.

Of course not!  You're a lady.  You'll have to listen at the door when he's with Derry.   ;D
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« Reply #7 on: July 16, 2010, 10:28:51 am »
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Would like to hear the end of that joke, though ...

Heh.  You talk to Morgan a lot more than I do. Ask him.   ;D

He doesn't normally tell me bawdy jokes, though.

Of course not!  You're a lady.  You'll have to listen at the door when he's with Derry.   ;D

But in my fic, Derry is in Marley!   So I think you will have to tell the end of the joke, because I just can't see Morgan telling it to Richenda or Meraude ...

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« Reply #8 on: July 16, 2010, 10:37:46 am »
OK, fine.  Here's the thing, though....Morgan told Kelson the joke, not me.  And Kelson's staying mum.  So I have no idea what the rest of the joke is!  BUT....if anyone wants to send me the rest of the joke via PM, and I get an entry that makes me fall over laughing, it might get put into a future chapter of the story, assuming it doesn't violate any of the Forum's fanfic guidelines.  Deal?  And the winner gets an imaginary night out on the town with Jass MacArdry.  (Note, I didn't say a date, so straight men need not hesitate to apply.  He'll be glad to show you his favorite Rhemuth pub and buy you an ale or six.  ;D)
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
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