Antebellum

[Paroxysm]

Even in the dead of night, it would have been hard to miss the doorway of impenetrable darkness that opened just a few dozen yards from Ulster's High Queen's palace gate; it was a rectangular portal of repulsed photons, so dark and deep, and almost tangible in appearance, like some malleable clay waiting to be shaped and molded. Exiting from this doorway was a man of average height, of pale skin and outlandish eye.

Orso, this man was called, and he was dressed for war; he wore an ashen cloak with matching tunic and trousers, a cowl with intricate embroidery covered his head, hiding his light, platinum blonde hair, and buckled and belted along his clothing were weapons of all sorts and sizes; he had knives and daggers, a sword and hatchet, both of which were clasped to his right side, and on either wrist of his leather gloves, glowing with a faint, scarlet light, was a symbol belonging to some ancient, long extinct language.

It was not for war, however, that Orso had been sent to Ulster, but, instead, diplomacy of a sort, odd as that was. Among the Fae, flaunting and making a show of things was the norm, whether that be one's beauty or might, and Orso, being a powerful agent of the Unseelie, was Pendaran's way of both showing due respect and flexing his might. It was almost a tribal custom but Pendaran liked it and what it represented and, in the end, that was all that mattered.

"Ttt," Orso spat at the ground and scanned the gatehouse for movement; he was sure that there would be guards stationed all along the walls. In all honesty, he would have preferred to avoid meeting any guards before he got to the castle but, protocol being what it was, he needed to introduce himself and ask for a proper escort to Igraine Lothair, High Queen of Ulster.

Working for the Unseelie was always such a hassle.

Letting out a long and exaggerated sigh, Orso’s skin began to shimmer, to shine and glow, and he drew to himself what little light there was at this time of day, concentrated it briefly around his body, and then released it in a sudden, powerful flash; he stood there afterwards, alone, and waited to see if someone would investigate what would no doubt have been considered a strange and suspicious occurrence. Either way, he was going nowhere near the ramparts without talking to someone first. He was not about to get shot with a volley of arrows.

"Had to come during the night," the lumen grumbled, "Couldn't do it in the day, no - 'The Unseelie only come out at night so give them what they expect.' Hate."

[Igraine]

There was the sound of metal grinding against metal and the short sound of armored men trooping to where Orso was standing. They carried torches to light their way and once they reached him they fanned out slightly, still remaining grouped enough so as not to make obvious targets of themselves. They had all been briefed on the Unseelie situation and were being extra careful with anyone that came through since the Siren incident.

A single man stepped forward with a shock of blonde hair and a stubble of blonde cropping up on his chin. This man was the head of the Queen's personal guard, known only as Arthur.

"Hello, Stranger. Who are you and to what do we owe this late call to the gates of Emain Macha -- stronghold of High Queen Igraine Lothair?" Arthur's voice was that of a leader, it carried far without having to give much effort. His eyes took in every detail of Orso, carefully cataloguing it away for future reference. To him this man screamed Unseelie, but just what was his motive for showing himself to everyone within a half mile's radius with that little light show? If he was here to hurt or steal or maim, why draw attention to himself?

Arthur kept his hand on the sword at his waist, though in a non-threatening manner of course. He wasn't going to allow any guard outside the compound without full armor -- especially at night.

[Paroxysm]

Although he hid it well, Orso was relieved when he saw the guards approaching and, very much to his joy, that they had the good sense to bring torches with them. Made his heart all a flutter, it did.

"Yo," Orso's eyes, orange seated in a yellow pool, focused on Arthur's fearlessly, "Orso," he gave his name, "and I'm here on business, unfortunately. Your queen," he looked around the group of men and considered how much he needed to tell them, "recently made a number of requests of my king, King Pen Draig," Orso chose one of Pendaran's less common names; he was, however, sure that Arthur, looking and sounding as important as he did, would recognize it, "and he has sent me here to act as his voice.”

Being so near to Orso, Arthur would have more of an idea of what he was dealing with (or was not dealing with, as was more accurate) and, political affiliation with the Unseelie aside, Orso was clearly not of the Fae; however, he did have the stink of them about him. A sweet, almost intoxicating sense of otherwordly clung to him as it did to most who spent enough time ‘out of realm.’

To be honest, Orso did not know if Tabris, who served as something of a representative for his people, came to Ulster during The End, when the Shade Swarms were wreaking havoc, but if he did and Arthur was privy to that knowledge, he would know enough about the man’s race to know what he was capable of. Tabris, after all, had gone well out of his way to sell lumen services to humans and human nations. Alas, Orso's father was far less exclusive in who he dealt with and thus, the Unseelie had a lumen on retainer.

"But yeah, I'm not here for trouble," he stressed.

[Igraine]

Arthur's brow furrowed as he looked at Orso, contemplating what the man -- creature -- thing was about. He was a decent judge of character when it came down to humans, but with magic in the mix he could be seeing just about anything, or anyone. He did know that someone was going to come to bring his Queen to the parley. He was advised that he was not allowed to come on this mission, and honestly it didn't sit right with him. He knew she was pregnant and with so much stress -- having already almost lost the baby -- it just didn't sit right with him being unable to protect her.

Aiden was already back from his leave, and he had his post at the Queen's doors. He took the post willingly and without hesitation, understanding that there was a war brewing and that it was deeply important to make sure that she was as protected as possible. It was understood that they would have a contingent of fey hunters and other fey creatures that would take care of the magical aspects soon, but that they wouldn't arrive until Queen Igraine was back from her Parley mission.

Arthur took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Did you say you're here on Pendragon's business?" It was a common mistake to muddle Pendaran's old name as such, so Orso might not correct him overmuch on the mutilation.

"Queen Igraine is resting at this time and is unable to take visitors, unless you're here to broker the Parley." Arthur was at ease, the creature smelled strange but he wasn't going to openly attack something he didn't understand. That was part of the reason he'd gotten so far within the Queen's personal guard. Arthur was very careful about his movements and his energies, never taking anything for granted -- especially the lives of the men under his direction.

Arthur wasn't privy to the details of the parley, he just knew someone was going to come at some point to escort Queen Igraine into the realm of the Unseelie.

[Paroxysm]

“Hrm... Yeah,” Orso agreed, “and like I said, I’m not here for trouble or nothing. Well, I guess this is kind of troublesome for you guards, but yeah, no helping that. Just don’t attack me and we’re good, I think,” he laughed.

Fortunately for just about every human in or around the palace, Orso was not very good at glamour or any other illusionary spells; in fact, he couldn’t cast a lick of magic to save his life. Activating the enchantment on his gloves was about the only magical thing he could really do, in all honesty, but if the guards believed he was disguising himself or messing with their heads he wasn’t going to tell them otherwise. He figured that could only work to his advantage.

“Well, I can wait, I guess, I don’t have to worry about the day/night thing, but, uh, I am here about the parley - to deliver the king's response and ferry Ulster's representatives over to our side. Anyways, if you want to wait until later, that's fine, but she might wanna know 'bout me. Or maybe that monk fellow, I guess, or what's his face? Cyrilth or something? Not that I really want to meet that one, of course."

[Igraine]

"I believe the Monk has taken a leave of absence. Cyrilith? Do you mean her father Vylrath?" Arthur looked mildly confused but he shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't going to be chewed out for not bringing the man that began the Parley straight to the Queen.

"Come along then, I believe the Queen will want to see you regardless of what time it is." Arthur motioned easily and the men that were around him dispersed to behind and around Orso. This was more a measure of protection for Orso than it was keeping him away from anyone else. "Please excuse our...unorthodox measures. We want to protect you from anyone that had a run in with the Siren this morning. The people are a little on edge about the Unseelie Court members. No offense, you don't seem so bad -- though I bet if you were provoked you could definitely be a problem."

Arthur glanced over at Orso as he lead the man under the first arch of the doorway, through the entry hall, and up the grand staircase. To the right at the very end of the hallway were the Queen's Rooms. The large door couldn't be missed with all of the gold inlay and flourishing paint. It wasn't Igraine or Kahlan's style, but this Castle was old.

"No offense, before I let you walk into my Queen's rooms I need to know what you are and what your powers are. You could lie, but that would only put us all on edge. I know the Unseelie King wants Igraine as quickly as he can get her, so it's in all of our best interest that this Parley goes unhindered." Arthur took up a place directly in front of the door, it was an honest question, one that could protect everyone inside the castle -- it couldn't be said that the Siren paved the way for poor Orso or even the Unseelie King.

In fact, she probably screwed it up more than she really even knew.

[Paroxysm]

Well Arthur was right about that, wasn't he? If Orso was provoked, he would definitely be a problem, but only the greedy, Unseelie and human alike, truly wanted war. He doubted the Queen's guard was going to intentionally try and rile him up so he'd do his best to remain calm and centered.

"It's fine," Orso assured Arthur, "and as for this siren... Yeah, uh, as far as I know, that was just an enterprising member of the court trying to curry favor with the king."

Truthfully, Orso did not know if the king had sent the siren or not; and if he had, it had been done secretly, because nothing had been done to assist her at all. For all Orso knew the siren had been an independent agent trying to make a name for her self. If she had succeeded, provided she hadn’t done something that would have messed up Pendaran’s plans, she would have been praised and rewarded.

Entering the castle, Orso was entirely at ease; he did not come to rest an arm on any of his weapons or appear to be on edge at all.

“Nice place,” he said by way of compliment.

“You’re just doin’ your job,” he spread his hands wide and stretched, “well,” he thought out loud, “I’m a lumen. Planar opposite of a shade, yeah? Or a Shadeling, really, I guess, but not many know ’bout Shadelings. Powerful fellows, them.”

Holding up a hand with a finger extended, Orso thought for a moment but he came up with nothing. Neither he nor Arthur had the science to comprehend Orso’s powers. He could manipulate light to great degrees but that was - right, he could just keep it simple, couldn’t he?

“Long story short, I can control light,” he admitted and demonstrated his ability by gathering an orb of black, inky darkness just above the extended digit.

This did not look like controlling light at all.

“Sort of. Well, I can also do things that emit light, but to show that, I’d have to direct it at something and you can imagine how that would end. Pretty good with weapons, too, if I do say so myself, but I suck with magic. Better to only mess with that stuff when you have to.”

[Igraine]

Arthur snorted and nodded. He agreed with Orso's sentiments of magic. It usually only got someone in further trouble, except those few that could heal properly.

"Well, just keep your hands to yourself and none of the men will get itchy fingers." There were a few highly trained archers in the group, and Orso didn't need an abundance of light to see the bows and crossbows slung across their backs. His eyes trained on Orso for a moment before he opened the door and let the sitting room fill with light. He looked startled when a fire was burning merrily in the huge fireplace. Sitting wrapped in a shawl, with a glass of some amber colored liquid, was Igraine. She was alone, for the first time in a few days and he suddenly felt that he was intruding.

"Your Majesty." Arthur bowed from the waist with a fist over his heart. When he straightened he saw that Igraine's eyes were still trained on the dancing flames in the fireplace. She lifted one slender hand and sipped some of the liquid out of the cup.

"Trouble sleeping?" Arthur crossed the room to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. When she looked up at him and smiled he shook his head. "You shouldn't drink in your condition. Though I don't fault you for doing so."

"It's just tea. Here, have a taste. Caela made it for me, she's exceptional at what she does." Igraine handed the glass to Arthur as she looked at Orso. "So you've finally come."

Igraine got to her feet and walked across the room to Orso. Her wheat colored hair sparkled in the firelight and she looked a bit pale, after the day she had it was amazing she had even been left alone. She smiled and extended her hands to Orso. No one would call her an inconsiderate host.

"Can I get you anything? You must be thirsty after your journey. What would you like?" Igraine said as she gestured for the men behind him to disperse along the hall. Arthur would stay in the room with her as was protocol for such events. Once everything had been said others would be brought into the room to hear the news and then they would prepare to leave. Now, though, was time for niceties.

Igraine motioned to the overstuffed chair next to her in front of the fire. She noticed that Arthur was a little uneasy, but she wasn't sure why. She didn't know that Orso was a Lumen and that the bright fire could be used as a weapon against her -- but then that would counter the whole point of Orso being here. Igraine settled into her chair and relaxed into an easy position, taking her glass of tea from Arthur.

"We can cut through any other nice court gestures after you've had your refreshments. If you're hungry then we can arrange some food to be brought as well. We both know why you're here, so it's best to get things moving as quickly as possible. We can start by you telling me your name and what your King has to say to me." Igraine's brilliant emerald eyes were quick, and they were warm, though there was an underlying edge of steel as she watched Orso over the rim of her glass.

[Paroxysm]

“No thank you,” Orso replied, “my body doesn’t quite work the same as yours,” he admitted, “but the offer is appreciated.”

Although, appearance wise, Orso looked human, his father had thrown in a few not-so-human perks, and of those perks, the lack of dependency on food and water for sustenance was definitely the best. Orso's body sustained itself on the sun and other sources of light.

“Orso,” he gave his name readily and then sat in the seat the queen had offered, “And my king,” Orso’s eyes lit with amusement, “was quite happy when he heard you were more than willing to meet him in person.
There is, however, one member of your party that concerns us...”

Orso’s voice died off for a moment as he allowed the queen to consider his words and decide for herself who King Pendaran might have a problem with; although, she probably already knew:

Vylrath Xanathi.

“So long as you acknowledge that you understand your party will be judged as a whole and that if even one of you act inappropriately, it will reflect badly on all of you, there shouldn’t be a problem, though. I'm not overly familiar with the Seelie, but King Pendaran and the Unseelie takes this all very serious."

In other words, provided his temper was just as bad as the rumors and stories had everyone believing it was, the Xanathi’s patriarch was a liability in this situation. This was not a battlefield, it was a political court for parley, a meeting between the heads of two different nations, and a very, very thin set of rules was all that stood between them and a hostile court of Fae creatures and other interested parties.

"A physical altercation cannot occur," Orso stressed, "this isn't from the king, either, this, right here, is all me, m'am. Forgive the presumptuousness of this, but you do not want a fight to break out in the Unseelie."

[Igraine]

Igraine laughed and shook her head. Her eyes dancing with some unknown merriment. She set down her glass and folded her hands in her lap and looked across to Orso.

"I see my father's...reputation preceeds him. Aye, Vylrath Xanathi can be a volatile and disasterous man when he puts his mind to it. Though I think he wishes the best for me. The other member of my party will be replaced with my sister Caela Xanathi. You see the monk has decided to play neutral for the better in this case. Caela is the mother of Sebilla and Trydian Xanathi." Igraine leaned forward, favoring her side somewhat -- she wasn't completely healed after the disaster surrounding her and Thorin earlier in the day.

"It is my understanding that you have my lover, Thorin Xanathi under your roof as well." Let Orso judge or question that relationship all he liked. Igraine wasn't one to really care about the stranger aspects of the Xanathi family. "Orso, my family is very important to me. It concerns me that King Pendaran would take my family in order to force my hand in matters that should remain firmly under my control."

Igraine ran a slender fingertip across the rim of her tea glass. She let her vision stray to the fire for a moment, pondering.

"I am pregnant, Orso. Thorin's child, a daughter. It is imperative that this child goes unharmed within my body and that Pendaran does not jeopardize what has already begun. I will make no deal if he threatens the life of my unborn daughter or the life of her father. I fully expect that he wants to marry me to further his own plans, and if that is to occur I will not have her father murdered before she is born. My sister would take care of her, but she needs at least one parent to take care of her -- and I would not raise my daughter in the Unseelie Realm." She relayed all of this information to Orso, because she knew the man would be open to listening to such matters.

"If it were up to me I would bring just my sister Caela. My father would not take kindly to being left behind, so it is best to have him come along than have him crashing about the front gates of the Unseelie Realm. He's capable of blundering into the strangest of places and causing the worst havoc -- so you see it is best to include him like one might a two year old." Igraine smiled, thoroughly amused by the thought of her father as a two year old. He acted like one most of the time, and she wondered how her mother could deal with him.

Then again, most would ask how she could still love Thorin.

[Paroxysm]

"For what it's worth," Orso said, "I am sorry circumstances are what they are, but... I don't know, it could just be all the time I've spent with him, doing his bidding, but I can see Pendaran's line of thought... Of course, I'm a bit more emotionally detached from all of this than you are."

Orso shrugged. Even if he could see Pendaran's reasoning behind kidnapping Sebilla to force Igraine into meeting him, he didn't know the details of it all, and, knowing Pendaran, there was more than one angle. The guy was more subtle than a snake and, honestly, he scared the hell out of Orso. He did not envy Igraine's position at all.

“I don’t know much ‘bout Thorin Xanathi’s arrival,” Orso admitted, “If he is there, though, he came after I left, and if he’s still alive, then he’s probably fine, at least for the time being. The king would rather get someone to work for them than eliminate them outright. S’usually how he operates, y’know? Some of the Fae mistake it for kindness, funny enough; it’s not.”

This news about Caela was both alarming and relieving... The monk had been an unknown to the Unseelie. Pendaran had no information on him at all, except that he was a monk, of course, and that made the man dangerous. Caela was not quite as unknown but still, little was known about her, specifically. At the very least, Orso had not been provided with much about her at all.

“Huh, well, that should be fine,” Orso replied, “but it does bring up another issue.... Sebilla Rivenfelde is currently involved as a third party in a contract with the Unseelie due to her brother. Do you know the terms?”

And Igraine was right: Gods forbid Vylrath finding his way to Sadb’s parlor and causing insult to her. She’d burn the whole realm down in retribution.

[Igraine]

"I do not know the terms of the contract. Will it cause me to kill my niece's brother?" Igraine said it with a straight face, but she wasn't going to mince words with this man. Indeed, she was bone weary of having to dance lightly around a topic in order to refrain from offending one party or the other. Perhaps it was because she was pregnant and her patience was wearing thin, or maybe she was just tired of being second guessed.

"It is rarely ever a good thing to be indebted to the Unseelie or forced to work for them, as I assume Trydian has sold himself to protect Sebilla." Igraine let her gaze venture to the fire again, as if finding solace in the bright burning element. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders before letting out a sigh. She needed to hear the terms of this contract before she walked into the King's Court completely blind.

"What can I expect when I see Sebilla?" Orso was just the messenger, she had to remind herself of this once or twice as she stared into the fire. To get her mind off of any anger that might present itself at the stupidity of Trydian's heroic endeavors -- Igraine gestured to Arthur, and as he bent to hear her request she smiled at Orso.

"Please request my sister Caela's presence. Send a servant to get her with haste, and inform her she will need to get dressed for travel." When Arthur inquired about readying Vylrath's presence Igraine shook her head. "The less time we give my father to mull over the events that will soon transpire, the better it is for all of us. He makes rash judgements and plans when given a chance to brood over things. The longer he sleeps or...whatever he does in the evenings -- the better we are."

Arthur saluted and walked to the door, giving the instructions to a servant before returning to his post in the corner behind Igraine's chair.

"It is imperative that my sister hears of what will befall her children. I hope you don't mind. She will be here shortly and I daresay give you the opportunity to question her and scry out her abilities -- if that is a requirement of the Parley of course. I think you will find her agreeable in all things that concern her children."

Indeed, it wasn't long before there was a light rap on the door and Caela walked into the room. She was beautiful in a way that Igraine was not. She seemed wilder, less tame, less demure, much more seductive in a darker sense of the word. If Orso looked deeper he might sense some distant hint of a Siren's touch pulsing through her blood. Igraine smiled at her sister and almost objected as the woman settled at her feet, pressed close against her legs. Caela was older than Igraine by at least fifteen or twenty years.

Caela settled her deep violet eyes on Orso, her blood red hair pulled back in a waist length pony tail. The firelight danced off her angular features, making her seem almost Fae in her own right -- though she was not and that was evident by the power that she exhibited.

"Orso, my older sister Caela Rivenfelde-Xanathi -- Former Queen of Xexoria." Caela dipped her head in acknowledgement before leveling her gaze on Orso once again. She smiled briefly, though there was no warmth for the man sitting across from her.

"I would say that the pleasure is mine, but to my knowledge your King holds my children in ransom. One, at least, works for him that I know of." Caela quirked her brow as if to challenge Orso to judge her choice of attitude.

"He was just about to divulge the terms of the contract Sebilla is under." Igraine prompted Orso as she too leveled her gaze on him.

[Paroxysm]

"To that, we can agree," Orso returned Igraine's sentiments, "and no, I do not think you'll have to take any drastic measures against Trydian, however ... Well, I would not pity him."

Allowing silence to settle for a moment, Orso grew contemplative and looked into the fire, thoughtfully, and basked in its heat; he listened as Igraine issued a summons for Caela and he smiled.

It would, indeed, be good to meet the woman before he spirited her over to the Unseelie. Plus, Orso enjoyed meeting new people; it was uncharacteristic of the Lumen but, well, that was how things were. Either way, he stood to greet the woman and if not for how quickly she moved to sit at Igraine's feet, he would have offered her his seat.

“To be fair,” Orso’s voice hardened ever so slightly, “King Pendaran has treated yoru family with more kindness than it has been known to treat itself.”

True, he did not know much about Caela, but he knew enough to know that Vylrath Xanathi hadn’t exactly been a loving and tender father.

“But I would rather we did not verbally spar over it,” he conceded, “and I’m not here to judge you or your father, or Queen Igraine.”

Orso took large breath and exhaled.

“To continue where I left off,” he said, “I would not pity Trydain. He was not forced into making his choice and it was not even Pendaran who made the offer, Pendaran suggested it, yes, but it was another servant who laid out the terms. Very generous terms, too,” Orso said with envy plain in his voice.

It was true Trydian Xanathi-Rivenfelde did strike a deal because the situation was heavily stacked against him, yes, but there was nothing forcing him to accept it. Though, like any pawn, Trydian would be used, regardless. Resources could not be wasted.

“The terms are as follows: For so long as Sebilla Rivenfelde does not interfere with Unseelie interests, she will be considered neutral, an unaligned political entity, and will be left unharmed by the Unseelie. In addition, should she have need of it, asylum awaits her within the realm, and outside the Unseelie, Sebilla Rivenfelde has the protection of both King Pendaran’s influence and a powerful servant of his court. Barring her intervention in Unseelie affairs, all offers of protection, neutrality, and asylum are permanent. The price for this was Trydian Xanathi-Rivenfelde’s soul.”

“I should note that Trydian’s foresight was limited to only wanting protection from the fallout associated with Pendaran showing interest in Sebilla... Like attracts like, yes? The rest of the contract was made by the servant who struck the deal so that the Unseelie could properly ensure her protection. Like I told Queen Igraine,” Orso said, gesturing to the woman, “the king takes this all very seriously. Yes, it is not a good thing to be within his influence but... So long as you bend the way he wants, you’re not in any immediate danger. Unless things have changed,” Orso’s eyes focused onto Caela, “your children are safe. Sebilla is probably the safest... I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her but from what I hear, she does not seem the kind to intentionally anger Pendaran.”

Orso sighed. That was a lot of talking...

[Igraine]

Igraine rubbed her forehead briefly before stalling Caela by resting a hand on her shoulder. Trydian was not one to make such rash judgements, and he had done so to protect his sister to the best of his ability. The cards were truely stacked against him in a moment of weakness.

"When you say neutral you mean that she cannot work with us against the Unseelie?" A strange request considering that Sebilla was a human -- or at least she had been when she'd been kidnapped -- and her visions could not be called. Indeed, from all accounts Trydian had been lax in his duties to teach her to defend herself using a sword. It had not been deemed necessary, and yet here they were working to gain her back.

"It was...good of King Pendaran to offer protection for Sebilla." Igraine spoke without looking at Orso. "I have reason to trust that she will be whole and unharmed when we gather her to take her home?" There was probably no way for Orso to even know this, but he could assume.

Caela was quiet during the exchange, her eyes settled somewhere on the shadows between the fire and the darkest part of the room. Her violet eyes were unfocused and she shook her head ever so slightly to clear it of whatever she had been thinking.

"Sebilla is a good girl. She doesn't like to anger people if she can help it, it's almost as if her father gifted her with a trait that sucked the Xanathi rudeness out of her. Forgive me for my harshness, Orso. I am not exactly predisposed to kindness where my children could be suffering. I am not exactly thrilled at the prospects of being childless. I understand that my son has the Xanathi mindset and sold his soul -- but he is a demon and he has his own wants and desires. His thirst for adventure has grown as he's aged and I was not the one to contain it. I doubt anyone but Sebilla can contain his thirst for blood and war." Even that hold seemed tenuous at best in Caela's eyes.

"We should gather Father and be on our way." Caela said as she glanced up at Igraine. Her sister looked pale and withdrawn -- as if the days events and the child growing within her was taking a greater toll on her body than anyone had the patience to notice. Igraine was a strong woman but she obviously needed a moment to rest and collect herself.

"Finish your tea and I will see that you have a gown fit for a parley ready once you're done. I will see that Vylrath is summoned as well. He will be amused that I am to join you, I'm sure. He acts so strangely now that it amuses me to be the point of his discomfort." It was her way of acknowledging Orso's comment about their family treating one another quite brutally. She was also lending credence to his obvious knowledge of her rape by Vylrath.

Caela got to her feet, her gown swishing about her ankles. It was picked for the Parley, as was pertinent for a once Queen to wear to such an event. She walked to the door and poked her head out, sending a servant to gather Vylrath and instructing him to dress formally -- if the bastard even knew what that meant. She then disappeared into Igraine's bedroom to lay out a gown for her. She chose one of a sky blue material with gold embroidery, that would set off her rosy complexion nicely.

In the mean time Igraine finished her tea and looked Orso kindly. "You are such a nice man. Thank you for taking the time to explain everything to us, even if it was on your list of orders." When Caela peeked her head in to check if the tea was gone, Igraine got to her feet and smiled at Orso.

"We will be ready to go soon." She disappeared into the room and closed the door behind her. It would take roughly half an hour for her to get dressed and have her hair done by Caela and Caela alone -- she would let no other servant into her rooms at this hour.

In the interim a short page boy knocked loudly on Vylrath's door, cracking it open to yell into his room before bounding back so as not to get thrown about. Vylrath's temper preceeded him in reputation.

"You have been summoned to Queen Igraine! Wear your finest clothes!" The young boy had shouted into Vylrath's rooms. If he slept, and didn't wake, then the boy would be forced to drastic measures. Dumping ice cold water on the man's head. It had been a direct order of the Mistress Caela Xanathi. A sure fire way to wake him, she said.

[Paroxysm]

"It isn't as odd as it sounds," Orso said reassuringly, "It's just a way to get out of the contract if she proved to be more trouble than she was worth. No sense protecting someone who was actively working against you, you understand? That would make no sense."

Orso smiled politely, "Don't mistake the protection for more than what it is, m'am. He was compensated for it, though, I wonder if it'll be as fruitful as he once thought it was. I can't give my word that she'll be whole, though, people react differently to the Unseelie, after all, but she will be unharmed, of that, I can assure you. It takes a certain kind of stupid to harm someone under Pendaran's protection."

Waving Igraine’s compliment off, Orso watched her leave to follow after Caela, and then relaxed; he looked into the fire and his otherworldly eyes, orange and yellow, shimmered as they drink in the heat and light.

“This job sucks,” he sighed.

The males may have been violent by nature, but their women seemed nice enough. Orso found himself secretly rooting for them.