The rooms that the High Queen of Ulster had been appointed were spacious and lavish. She would want for nothing during her stay, and the hospitality was extended to the child growing in her womb. Lamps glowed brightly around the mirror that Igraine was seated before. Her hair was being carefully woven in an intricate design while the dress she was going to wear, specially made to accommodate her growing physique, was being brushed clean and practically glowed.
Igraine kept her gaze on the mirror, watching the careful hands of the maids as they wove her hair. The child in her womb kicked a little, somewhat in protest of the confines of the womb she grew in, partially due to the stress her mother was experiencing. Igraine moved one hand to rest on the distended part of her abdomen. Her pregnancy would be advanced at the best of times, though the Unseelie Realm seemed to hasten it. Igraine was around two months pregnant – though she appeared to be four months along.
The chattering over her hair had ceased as a blue gemmed circlet was placed on her head. It was meant to symbolize the realm of winter that she was slipping into, combining the two realms once more. Igraine was helped to her feet and the dress was brought forward. It was stunning, really, in every way possible. King Pendaran had spared no expense for his future Queen. It was designed in such a fashion that it would mask her pregnant belly enough without weighing it down – because the dress was quite heavy. It was crusted with gems that mirrored those on the circlet, though there were other gems present. The dress itself had taken Igraine’s breath away when she’d first seen it. It was a symbol of the union of the two courts through her, on her, a physical manifestation of what her role in this fiasco would be.
Across the top half of the dress would be the gems that represented Winter, brilliant blues and icy clear gems all sewn into an abstract mural. Below that were the gems that represented Summer, an amazing array of fiery gems in reds, oranges, and yellows in a similar abstract pattern. Where they meshed, ironically over her swollen abdomen, there was a blending of seasons that spawned the colors of fall and spring. It was a symbol that was blatant, a message to everyone that would stand for and against this particular union. Together the two factions were stronger than they could ever hope to be apart. Without one, the other could not exist.
Once Igraine was laced into the gown she twirled, admiring the handiwork that only Fae hands could manage. In the bright light of the room she sparkled like a gem herself, even though she looked very pale – it seemed to suit her with the gaudiness of the gown. When the final adjustments had been made Igraine was escorted to the outdoor garden filled with various night blooming flowers and shade plants.
At first glance the garden seemed almost barren, but further inspection proved that Pendaran had invited everyone that needed to be invited – excluding certain parties could incite war after all. Igraine took a deep breath and stepped into a shaft of moonlight, aware of what the dress would do in the light. She waited for Pendaran’s cue for her long agonizing walk down the aisle toward the servitude she would owe him as his wife.
Dystopia
A Union of Courts (Wedding)
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A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Igraine on Mon Jul 02, 2012 6:20 pm
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Igraine - Recovering Caffiene Addict
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Paroxysm on Tue Jul 03, 2012 2:52 am
The Unseelie king, standing at the far end of the aisle, smiled when Igraine made her entrance; he was quite obviously pleased with himself--and it showed. To mark the occasion, Pendaran wore similarly symbolic clothing, though, unlike previous events hosted in his name, his clothing this evening was considerably less abstract in design. Where he would normally display an element, as testament of his power and influence, he wore simple clothing, of physical cloth and stitching.
Indeed, the king's clothing this night, hailing traditionally from a now extinct mortal tribe, consisted of an outer robe, its sleeves long and flaring out where it met his hands; another robe, this one thinner and lighter than the one worn above it; and an ornate mantle, a monstrous looking thing of golden embroidery and heavy cloth. To display his rank and position within the court, Pendaran also wore a crown, something he rarely bothered with, and incorporated into the design of this crown was a set of horns, which protruded from the king's forehead, just above his brows, and curled tightly around his skull, ending in a sharp, sudden incline at the half-way point.
With another satisfied smile, Pendaran gave a sweeping flourish of his left arm and bowed, just slightly, and sent a gentle, beckoning breeze down the aisle toward Igraine, the Queen of Ulster, the heiress apparent of the Seelie, and, now, the Unseelie king's betrothed.
Indeed, the king's clothing this night, hailing traditionally from a now extinct mortal tribe, consisted of an outer robe, its sleeves long and flaring out where it met his hands; another robe, this one thinner and lighter than the one worn above it; and an ornate mantle, a monstrous looking thing of golden embroidery and heavy cloth. To display his rank and position within the court, Pendaran also wore a crown, something he rarely bothered with, and incorporated into the design of this crown was a set of horns, which protruded from the king's forehead, just above his brows, and curled tightly around his skull, ending in a sharp, sudden incline at the half-way point.
With another satisfied smile, Pendaran gave a sweeping flourish of his left arm and bowed, just slightly, and sent a gentle, beckoning breeze down the aisle toward Igraine, the Queen of Ulster, the heiress apparent of the Seelie, and, now, the Unseelie king's betrothed.
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Igraine on Tue Jul 03, 2012 12:16 pm
The walk down the aisle seemed quicker than Igraine thought it would be. Perhaps it was the breeze that beckoned her, teased her, and drew her quicker down the aisle than she had planned. Igraine never let her serene mask slip despite the war of emotions threatening to break the dam inside her chest. Pregnancy, even a normal one, was difficult on the mother at the best of times – but this was Thorin Xanathi’s child and had already suffered plenty. So when her daughter lurched in her womb, Igraine closed her eyes briefly, settling her awareness on the frightened child within her. She eased the child with a brush of her consciousness as she neared Pendaran. She made an effort to reign in her emotions for her daughter as she extended her hand and touched Pendaran’s proffered arm.
The ceremony would be a simple one, but lavish, as it was rare for two monarchs to wed between the veils. Igraine was not a particularly short woman, or exceptionally slight, but she fit in with the crowd that gathered at her back. None of her people would be here, but she was otherworldly enough to gleam like the coals of a dying fire. The angelic part of her was reflected in her features just as much as her Fae heritage. For Pendaran, he would gain a leg up into the Mortal world – but he would gain so much more, and he knew it. Igraine was one of the rare children of multiple realms – it might not show on her body so much as her spirit and her abilities – but it was there and he had acknowledged it.
So, with great effort, Igraine rested her hand on Pendaran’s hand. It was tradition that the bride and groom would clasp hands. It was ceremony, but it was almost thrown out the window at the cold feel of Pendaran’s skin. Likewise, Igraine’s skin would feel incredibly warm to Pendaran and that might be just as offputting to him as it was to her. Goosebumps ran up the length of her arm and that might amuse Pendaran if he decided to notice. In truth, marrying him was probably the lesser of two evils.
When the ceremony started Igraine chose to focus on one of the large night blooming flowers behind the official that was speaking about their union. She was only required to say the right words at the right time; she didn’t have to listen to everything that was being said. She mused over the fact that she could have worn a veil, but that it probably would have clashed with the statement that Pendaran was trying to make with her gown. In a moment of girlish pride she decided she liked the circlet that had been given to her to wear with the dress. It matched beautifully and it showed that Pendaran had some taste in fashion, at least enough to appease his future wife. She wouldn’t be forced to look droll at least in her role as his quiet figurehead wife.
Igraine spoke her part with a clear voice, her eyes locking on the official as she said what was required of her. She then turned to Pendaran and bowed her head to him as the ancient tradition required. She was not his equal in this world, though he might require her opinion more once they established themselves in the human world. Igraine would keep her gaze downcast as Pendaran spoke his part in the ceremony. The sealing of the ceremony was a mystery to her because Pendaran had chosen to keep it a secret – no doubt to unsettle her just enough.
Once the ceremony was over and sealed the veil would shatter.
The ceremony would be a simple one, but lavish, as it was rare for two monarchs to wed between the veils. Igraine was not a particularly short woman, or exceptionally slight, but she fit in with the crowd that gathered at her back. None of her people would be here, but she was otherworldly enough to gleam like the coals of a dying fire. The angelic part of her was reflected in her features just as much as her Fae heritage. For Pendaran, he would gain a leg up into the Mortal world – but he would gain so much more, and he knew it. Igraine was one of the rare children of multiple realms – it might not show on her body so much as her spirit and her abilities – but it was there and he had acknowledged it.
So, with great effort, Igraine rested her hand on Pendaran’s hand. It was tradition that the bride and groom would clasp hands. It was ceremony, but it was almost thrown out the window at the cold feel of Pendaran’s skin. Likewise, Igraine’s skin would feel incredibly warm to Pendaran and that might be just as offputting to him as it was to her. Goosebumps ran up the length of her arm and that might amuse Pendaran if he decided to notice. In truth, marrying him was probably the lesser of two evils.
When the ceremony started Igraine chose to focus on one of the large night blooming flowers behind the official that was speaking about their union. She was only required to say the right words at the right time; she didn’t have to listen to everything that was being said. She mused over the fact that she could have worn a veil, but that it probably would have clashed with the statement that Pendaran was trying to make with her gown. In a moment of girlish pride she decided she liked the circlet that had been given to her to wear with the dress. It matched beautifully and it showed that Pendaran had some taste in fashion, at least enough to appease his future wife. She wouldn’t be forced to look droll at least in her role as his quiet figurehead wife.
Igraine spoke her part with a clear voice, her eyes locking on the official as she said what was required of her. She then turned to Pendaran and bowed her head to him as the ancient tradition required. She was not his equal in this world, though he might require her opinion more once they established themselves in the human world. Igraine would keep her gaze downcast as Pendaran spoke his part in the ceremony. The sealing of the ceremony was a mystery to her because Pendaran had chosen to keep it a secret – no doubt to unsettle her just enough.
Once the ceremony was over and sealed the veil would shatter.
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Paroxysm on Mon Jul 09, 2012 12:18 am
Like Igraine, Pendaran, too, had paid little attention to the ceremony. The Unseelie king's mind was a working of gears and cogs, of stratagem and cunning, and just--no, especially because his largest roadblock was now being dealt with, Pendaran needed to plan his next couple of steps very carefully indeed. There would be much . . . debate over the ramifications of the veil being lifted and the Queen of Ulster's participation in the event, as well.
Bringing himself out of his thoughts in time to catch the wedding’s orator--an odd, black furred creature even the Unseelie king could not recognize offhand--beckon for his part in the ceremony, Pendaran smiled and, without missing a beat, began to speak his lines, though his eyes still held that far-away look.
Despite his love for theatrics, Pendaran did not waste time on monologue or fluff; he had chosen quaint and traditional words for his vows, but he did find the time for a small verbal flourish at the end which won him a few chuckles from the crowd. Once Pendaran finished speaking, the orator nodded and moved to close the ceremony with practiced efficiency.
In another part of the stronghold, not too far from where an Unseelie king and his Seelie bride were being wed, a circle of witches convened, garbed in only shadowy cloaks and long platinum hair. Both the southern and northernmost witch held an ornate chest, lid up, lined with dark velvet, and containing two fetishes each. The southern witch, a skinny, long haired thing with a crooked grind removed a lock of golden hair from her chest and, in that same instant, the northern witch did the same, though the lock of hair she had removed was black, a ghostly chill emanating from it. Ceremoniously, the hair was passed around the circle for two full rotations and the witches had begun to chant.
The combined singing voice of the circle as surprisingly pleasant, if seldom used, and as the locks of hair finished their second rotation, they were passed a half turn more so that the southern witch and northern witch held the other’s bundle. The two witches stepped forward, toward a blue burning brazier set at the center of their circle, and as they did, the singing increased in fervor, the witches’ zeal coalescing into a physical, foggy force of will and magic.
Both locks of hair were cast into the brazier, its blue flame, now lined with silver, flared up and then died down as the temperature in the room plummeted and drew a collection of gasps from the circle.
The ritual was to be repeated once more, but in place of locks of hair, the two witches had removed samples of blood from the chest instead. The southern witch held blood that was once scarlet red, though now stained the color of rust, as a human’s blood was want to do, and it had been smeared on a square of white silk, cloth that had been run down the surface of a dagger that had pierced a queen’s flesh. The northern witch held a much more curious specimen: it was a pale blue, almost light purple, and it was but a bead, a pinprick’s worth of blood, and it had been captured in a frozen droplet of water.
Like before, the witches chanted, they passed the powerful charms around the circle, and then the two leaders of the coven stepped forward, still singing and chanting, and they cast the items to the flame, to burn together and mix with the ash at the bottom of the brazier.
Nothing happened for one, two, and three seconds and then the blue flame blinked out and all at once, the witches began to scream and rip ribbons from their flesh, to claw at their eyes and mouth. Where their blood did not boil in their veins, it froze, and where it did neither, it seeped out in putrid black ooze that stunk of ozone and decay. The witches agonized and suffered for only a short while, but in their minds, it was an eternity, eons, and all wished for it, to die and be free of their torment. With their passing, the flame was reignited, white and pure as snow, but as hot as a small son; elsewhere, a wedding was moments from closing and its groom, the Unseelie king, Pendaran, was smiling.
In his moment of victory, it was not scheming on his mind, but, instead, curiosity as to what Mab and Kahlan would think when they felt the veil shatter; or how long it would take them to pay him and his new bride a visit, or to at least send a messenger.
Bringing himself out of his thoughts in time to catch the wedding’s orator--an odd, black furred creature even the Unseelie king could not recognize offhand--beckon for his part in the ceremony, Pendaran smiled and, without missing a beat, began to speak his lines, though his eyes still held that far-away look.
Despite his love for theatrics, Pendaran did not waste time on monologue or fluff; he had chosen quaint and traditional words for his vows, but he did find the time for a small verbal flourish at the end which won him a few chuckles from the crowd. Once Pendaran finished speaking, the orator nodded and moved to close the ceremony with practiced efficiency.
In another part of the stronghold, not too far from where an Unseelie king and his Seelie bride were being wed, a circle of witches convened, garbed in only shadowy cloaks and long platinum hair. Both the southern and northernmost witch held an ornate chest, lid up, lined with dark velvet, and containing two fetishes each. The southern witch, a skinny, long haired thing with a crooked grind removed a lock of golden hair from her chest and, in that same instant, the northern witch did the same, though the lock of hair she had removed was black, a ghostly chill emanating from it. Ceremoniously, the hair was passed around the circle for two full rotations and the witches had begun to chant.
The combined singing voice of the circle as surprisingly pleasant, if seldom used, and as the locks of hair finished their second rotation, they were passed a half turn more so that the southern witch and northern witch held the other’s bundle. The two witches stepped forward, toward a blue burning brazier set at the center of their circle, and as they did, the singing increased in fervor, the witches’ zeal coalescing into a physical, foggy force of will and magic.
Both locks of hair were cast into the brazier, its blue flame, now lined with silver, flared up and then died down as the temperature in the room plummeted and drew a collection of gasps from the circle.
The ritual was to be repeated once more, but in place of locks of hair, the two witches had removed samples of blood from the chest instead. The southern witch held blood that was once scarlet red, though now stained the color of rust, as a human’s blood was want to do, and it had been smeared on a square of white silk, cloth that had been run down the surface of a dagger that had pierced a queen’s flesh. The northern witch held a much more curious specimen: it was a pale blue, almost light purple, and it was but a bead, a pinprick’s worth of blood, and it had been captured in a frozen droplet of water.
Like before, the witches chanted, they passed the powerful charms around the circle, and then the two leaders of the coven stepped forward, still singing and chanting, and they cast the items to the flame, to burn together and mix with the ash at the bottom of the brazier.
Nothing happened for one, two, and three seconds and then the blue flame blinked out and all at once, the witches began to scream and rip ribbons from their flesh, to claw at their eyes and mouth. Where their blood did not boil in their veins, it froze, and where it did neither, it seeped out in putrid black ooze that stunk of ozone and decay. The witches agonized and suffered for only a short while, but in their minds, it was an eternity, eons, and all wished for it, to die and be free of their torment. With their passing, the flame was reignited, white and pure as snow, but as hot as a small son; elsewhere, a wedding was moments from closing and its groom, the Unseelie king, Pendaran, was smiling.
In his moment of victory, it was not scheming on his mind, but, instead, curiosity as to what Mab and Kahlan would think when they felt the veil shatter; or how long it would take them to pay him and his new bride a visit, or to at least send a messenger.
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Igraine on Sat Jul 14, 2012 3:00 pm
It wasn’t long after the close of the ceremony that Igraine felt the first effect of the veil shattering. In fact, it was probably right after the witches completed their ritual. She stopped, her hand resting on King Pendaran’s arm out of decorum. Her hand clutched at his forearm as her knees grew weak, the dress weighing too much for her to really stand up. It would look as if someone had kicked her in her lower back and knees. She felt like her heart was going to be crushed in her chest. Her hands flew to her chest as she hit her knees, fully expecting King Pendaran to continue on his stroll. This was his fault after all.
When the veil between the Unseelie and Human worlds collapsed, the air was driven from Igraine’s lungs – as if the world itself had fallen on her chest. She planted her hands on the ground, willing her body to calm down as the baby inside her twisted and arched, feeling the distress and pain that she was feeling too. In a wry moment of clarity, Igraine wondered if Morgana would ever make it to term with all of the trauma she had experienced so far.
Igraine glanced up at Pendaran, her emerald green eyes momentarily flashing an intense fiery bright blue as the veil fell completely. The air rushed back into her lungs and the Queen of Ulster snapped back upright on her knees. It took her a minute to get her bearings before she started to struggle to her feet – any help offered would be ignored. Once she was on her feet she smoothed the dress over her belly and hips and rejoined Pendaran.
“I expect that we should prepare for company, Husband.” Igraine spoke quietly, dipping her head toward King Pendaran as if nothing had happened. She wore a smile on her face, but one of Royalty – not of happiness. A smile of necessity and not of love or companionship.
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Kahlan’s head jerked up from the book she was reading, her long blonde hair catching the unnatural glowing sunlight that permeated the Seelie Realm. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she got to her feet and tossed the book to the side. The book fell on the cushion she’d been sitting on, folding itself closed of its own accord. Without a word she snagged her heavy black leather cloak from a hook near the door. As she threw it around her shoulders she spotted a courier for Queen Mab heedlessly bolting along the swaying bridges connecting the treetops. It would seem the Great Queen of the Seelie Court had eyes and ears everywhere – even in this village so far from the Seelie center.
“Queen Kahlan! My Lady…” Kahlan pulled the hood up on her cloak as she grabbed one of the pulley ropes used to haul materials into the trees. As she stepped onto the plank, trying to avoid the messenger, she turned to see him with his eyes wide with wonder and fear at what she was doing.
“Queen Kahlan, her Majesty Queen Mab…”
“Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten my sword. Be a dear and grab it for me will you?”
“But, my Lady…I…”
“Now, please.”
The courier ran inside and procured the sword and scabbard with great care, reaching far over the railing to hand it over to Kahlan. When she had it she began buckling it around her waist. The courier began to speak.
“Queen Kahlan, her Majesty sent word through me that the Unseelie Veil has fallen! She wants to converse with you about the steps that we should take in order to rectify this situation. Immediately, she said, as soon as I could get to you.” The courier hopped from foot to foot with the agitation this news was sure to cause in all the important Seelie privy to this information.
“With all due respect to her Majesty,” Kahlan nodded her head in the direction of the Seelie center some journey away. “I have given her my daughter, and it would seem that King Pendaran has taken her to wife. Wedding the two worlds would shatter the veil. It took Pendaran long enough to figure it out. However, it would seem that my duties as a Mother outweigh my duties as an advisor to her Majesty.”
“But, my Lady!” Kahlan cut the courier off with a wave of her hand.
“I have given enough. Many children in the persuit of Mab’s design. My power and my life have been devoted to ensuring her safety and the safety of this realm. I will not give my time when it will be better suited to my only surviving child.” Kahlan began lowering herself to the sound of protests from the courier. At that moment, the dowager High Queen of Ulster couldn’t give a rats ass what the Queen of the Seelie would say or try to do in a fit of anger. Some children never grew up.
When she stepped through the veil to the human world, Kahlan stretched her neck and flexed her arms as if assuming some invisible mantle across her shoulders. Her eyes were bright and she looked very much like an avenging angel – though her wings were always hidden these days.
“Alright, Pendaran, you’ve got my attention finally. I see you found the key to our little game. I know what you’re after, and you know that it will invoke war.” Anyone looking at the cloaked woman might think she was insane, speaking as she was without anyone nearby, but Pendaran would hear the words and the punch of Kahlan’s power behind them. It would be like the old days when he had thought she was the key to his success and not the jailer he would come to resent.
“Bring her with you.” Kahlan turned her back to the field in front of her and looked down at the river at her feet, her boots making soft crunching sounds along the rocky shores. Tempers would be held in check with Igraine nearby, as they always were around that strange and wonderful child of Kahlan Lothair.
When the veil between the Unseelie and Human worlds collapsed, the air was driven from Igraine’s lungs – as if the world itself had fallen on her chest. She planted her hands on the ground, willing her body to calm down as the baby inside her twisted and arched, feeling the distress and pain that she was feeling too. In a wry moment of clarity, Igraine wondered if Morgana would ever make it to term with all of the trauma she had experienced so far.
Igraine glanced up at Pendaran, her emerald green eyes momentarily flashing an intense fiery bright blue as the veil fell completely. The air rushed back into her lungs and the Queen of Ulster snapped back upright on her knees. It took her a minute to get her bearings before she started to struggle to her feet – any help offered would be ignored. Once she was on her feet she smoothed the dress over her belly and hips and rejoined Pendaran.
“I expect that we should prepare for company, Husband.” Igraine spoke quietly, dipping her head toward King Pendaran as if nothing had happened. She wore a smile on her face, but one of Royalty – not of happiness. A smile of necessity and not of love or companionship.
-------------------------------------------
Kahlan’s head jerked up from the book she was reading, her long blonde hair catching the unnatural glowing sunlight that permeated the Seelie Realm. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she got to her feet and tossed the book to the side. The book fell on the cushion she’d been sitting on, folding itself closed of its own accord. Without a word she snagged her heavy black leather cloak from a hook near the door. As she threw it around her shoulders she spotted a courier for Queen Mab heedlessly bolting along the swaying bridges connecting the treetops. It would seem the Great Queen of the Seelie Court had eyes and ears everywhere – even in this village so far from the Seelie center.
“Queen Kahlan! My Lady…” Kahlan pulled the hood up on her cloak as she grabbed one of the pulley ropes used to haul materials into the trees. As she stepped onto the plank, trying to avoid the messenger, she turned to see him with his eyes wide with wonder and fear at what she was doing.
“Queen Kahlan, her Majesty Queen Mab…”
“Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten my sword. Be a dear and grab it for me will you?”
“But, my Lady…I…”
“Now, please.”
The courier ran inside and procured the sword and scabbard with great care, reaching far over the railing to hand it over to Kahlan. When she had it she began buckling it around her waist. The courier began to speak.
“Queen Kahlan, her Majesty sent word through me that the Unseelie Veil has fallen! She wants to converse with you about the steps that we should take in order to rectify this situation. Immediately, she said, as soon as I could get to you.” The courier hopped from foot to foot with the agitation this news was sure to cause in all the important Seelie privy to this information.
“With all due respect to her Majesty,” Kahlan nodded her head in the direction of the Seelie center some journey away. “I have given her my daughter, and it would seem that King Pendaran has taken her to wife. Wedding the two worlds would shatter the veil. It took Pendaran long enough to figure it out. However, it would seem that my duties as a Mother outweigh my duties as an advisor to her Majesty.”
“But, my Lady!” Kahlan cut the courier off with a wave of her hand.
“I have given enough. Many children in the persuit of Mab’s design. My power and my life have been devoted to ensuring her safety and the safety of this realm. I will not give my time when it will be better suited to my only surviving child.” Kahlan began lowering herself to the sound of protests from the courier. At that moment, the dowager High Queen of Ulster couldn’t give a rats ass what the Queen of the Seelie would say or try to do in a fit of anger. Some children never grew up.
When she stepped through the veil to the human world, Kahlan stretched her neck and flexed her arms as if assuming some invisible mantle across her shoulders. Her eyes were bright and she looked very much like an avenging angel – though her wings were always hidden these days.
“Alright, Pendaran, you’ve got my attention finally. I see you found the key to our little game. I know what you’re after, and you know that it will invoke war.” Anyone looking at the cloaked woman might think she was insane, speaking as she was without anyone nearby, but Pendaran would hear the words and the punch of Kahlan’s power behind them. It would be like the old days when he had thought she was the key to his success and not the jailer he would come to resent.
“Bring her with you.” Kahlan turned her back to the field in front of her and looked down at the river at her feet, her boots making soft crunching sounds along the rocky shores. Tempers would be held in check with Igraine nearby, as they always were around that strange and wonderful child of Kahlan Lothair.
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Igraine - Recovering Caffiene Addict
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Paroxysm on Sun Jul 15, 2012 6:35 am
Although the Unseelie king did not come to his wife's aid, he did halt and turn to face her, but it was neither concern nor scorn on his face; it wasn't confusion or impatience either. The king merely stood there, his expression blank, and waited for her to recover; he could have offered her some aid, of course, but he did not, though it was not out of petty cruelty. Even disregarding the veil's collapse, Igraine represented an enormously beneficial gain for the Unseelie, but Pendaran was quickly becoming disinterested with her now that her immediate usefulness was at an end.
That said, though he did not openly show it, Pendaran was concerned for the child still growing within her womb. More than likely, this was a development that Pendaran’s new wife would find troubling.
"Close, my Lady.”
A distant, familiar look crept into Pendaran's eyes as his consciousness split and quested outwards, out from the Unseelie, between the folds of reality, and into the mortal world.
The very first indication that Kahlan had found herself the audience of another's attention was the water as it began to bubble and gloss over, and before too long, it had entered an almost gelatinous state. The second indication was, of course, the faintly shimmering simulacrum that had begun to slowly lift itself from the semi-solidified water.
Hm, the figure mused with a thoughtful smile as its features sharpened, became more defined and, within a half-second, more than a little familiar to the angel it stood before.
Still dressed from his wedding, Pendaran stood, and though his presence and power was considerably weaker on the mortal plane, it was still quite obvious who and what he was. The elder fae held itself with regal authority and nothing in his body language or stance showed him to be wary of Kahlan, despite the history they shared.
“Finding it was easy,” the sidhe responded, “but engaging in civil discourse with so volatile a family? Where diplomacy is seen as a sign of weakness? Beyond difficult. Her father’s resurrection was your doing, wasn’t it? That helped me greatly, but I will have to see the wretched thing dead again if it crosses my path.“
From behind Kahlan, a small tear appeared in space, and then slowly widened as Pendaran willed it just large enough to allow Igraine passage back into the mortal world.
“Anyways, war, you said? The angel who has taken to meddling with souls and resurrecting demons should not talk of war,” Pendaran shrugged, his words a warning and reference to the Dirige, Agents of Death who did not take kindly to what they called Voleur d'âme. Beings that Kahlan would now be counted among, if word of what she had done was to get out . . .
“Still,” he said, “I suppose we aren’t here to discuss your sins. You’re right,” he admitted, “I very well could have set in motion events that will cause another war between the courts, but let us be honest here, Kahlan: I am the Unseelie king! Did you think to keep me a prisoner forever?"
Pendaran appeared comfortable in the aftermath of his victory, but there was a gleam in his eye, a hunger that would be obvious to anyone who knew him well--at least, as well as anyone could know the Winter king.
“Truth is,” he began, “I could have also united the Summer and Winter courts, though, I suppose it is too early to tell. At the very least, I won’t allow Mab’s fury to harm your daughter or granddaughter.”
That said, though he did not openly show it, Pendaran was concerned for the child still growing within her womb. More than likely, this was a development that Pendaran’s new wife would find troubling.
"Close, my Lady.”
A distant, familiar look crept into Pendaran's eyes as his consciousness split and quested outwards, out from the Unseelie, between the folds of reality, and into the mortal world.
The very first indication that Kahlan had found herself the audience of another's attention was the water as it began to bubble and gloss over, and before too long, it had entered an almost gelatinous state. The second indication was, of course, the faintly shimmering simulacrum that had begun to slowly lift itself from the semi-solidified water.
Hm, the figure mused with a thoughtful smile as its features sharpened, became more defined and, within a half-second, more than a little familiar to the angel it stood before.
Still dressed from his wedding, Pendaran stood, and though his presence and power was considerably weaker on the mortal plane, it was still quite obvious who and what he was. The elder fae held itself with regal authority and nothing in his body language or stance showed him to be wary of Kahlan, despite the history they shared.
“Finding it was easy,” the sidhe responded, “but engaging in civil discourse with so volatile a family? Where diplomacy is seen as a sign of weakness? Beyond difficult. Her father’s resurrection was your doing, wasn’t it? That helped me greatly, but I will have to see the wretched thing dead again if it crosses my path.“
From behind Kahlan, a small tear appeared in space, and then slowly widened as Pendaran willed it just large enough to allow Igraine passage back into the mortal world.
“Anyways, war, you said? The angel who has taken to meddling with souls and resurrecting demons should not talk of war,” Pendaran shrugged, his words a warning and reference to the Dirige, Agents of Death who did not take kindly to what they called Voleur d'âme. Beings that Kahlan would now be counted among, if word of what she had done was to get out . . .
“Still,” he said, “I suppose we aren’t here to discuss your sins. You’re right,” he admitted, “I very well could have set in motion events that will cause another war between the courts, but let us be honest here, Kahlan: I am the Unseelie king! Did you think to keep me a prisoner forever?"
Pendaran appeared comfortable in the aftermath of his victory, but there was a gleam in his eye, a hunger that would be obvious to anyone who knew him well--at least, as well as anyone could know the Winter king.
“Truth is,” he began, “I could have also united the Summer and Winter courts, though, I suppose it is too early to tell. At the very least, I won’t allow Mab’s fury to harm your daughter or granddaughter.”
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Igraine on Mon Jul 16, 2012 9:54 pm
Kahlan brushed the hood of her cloak back to reveal her face. Her sea blue eyes were hard as she watched Pendaran stalk around her.
“The ever gracious Madoc ap Dara, you flatter me with your presence.” Kahlan would know his name; she had used it in his binding. A flicker of a smile graced her lips as the tear widened to allow her daughter passage through. She was wearing a stunningly rendered dress and had been quite a banner for Pendaran’s plans. Kahlan caught her daughter’s eyes and let her know with one look that she wasn’t going to let her feel any responsibility for what had occurred.
“You mock me, Pendaran?” Kahlan laughed, a bright vicious thing, as she turned to face him. Her cloak flared momentarily as she moved, her hair falling to frame her face. Her daughter was beautiful in an otherworldly way while Kahlan was beautiful in the Angelic sense. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Pendaran stalk and speak of betrayals and outcasts.
“Please, really? Death and I have battled off and on, wrestled with one another, and come to an ambivalent agreement. You and I both know the Gods are…absent at least for the time being. Besides…” Kahlan tilted her head back, cocked it to the side slightly as if listening for something, then shrugged. “He’s dead. It would seem he wasn’t worth the effort I put into him for the protection of my only living daughter. Queen Mab won’t hurt Igraine. You on the other hand…”
Kahlan laughed and walked to her daughter, resting a hand on her belly to feel the child move closer to the pillar of power that its grandmother could become if tempted.
“Listen, Pendaran, if you keep my daughter safe and unharmed I will be grateful. However, the child is mine. Do not think you’re going to fix any strange plot on my granddaughter.” Kahlan folded her daughter in her arms and kissed her forehead before turning to look at the Winter Court King.
Igraine watched her mother exchange words with Pendaran and touch her; she remained quiet through the whole ordeal – entirely exhausted from the event of her wedding and the shattering of the veil. Her eyes were hollow as she stood there in the heavy dress, bearing witness to Pendaran’s first footsteps on the Human plane.
“The ever gracious Madoc ap Dara, you flatter me with your presence.” Kahlan would know his name; she had used it in his binding. A flicker of a smile graced her lips as the tear widened to allow her daughter passage through. She was wearing a stunningly rendered dress and had been quite a banner for Pendaran’s plans. Kahlan caught her daughter’s eyes and let her know with one look that she wasn’t going to let her feel any responsibility for what had occurred.
“You mock me, Pendaran?” Kahlan laughed, a bright vicious thing, as she turned to face him. Her cloak flared momentarily as she moved, her hair falling to frame her face. Her daughter was beautiful in an otherworldly way while Kahlan was beautiful in the Angelic sense. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Pendaran stalk and speak of betrayals and outcasts.
“Please, really? Death and I have battled off and on, wrestled with one another, and come to an ambivalent agreement. You and I both know the Gods are…absent at least for the time being. Besides…” Kahlan tilted her head back, cocked it to the side slightly as if listening for something, then shrugged. “He’s dead. It would seem he wasn’t worth the effort I put into him for the protection of my only living daughter. Queen Mab won’t hurt Igraine. You on the other hand…”
Kahlan laughed and walked to her daughter, resting a hand on her belly to feel the child move closer to the pillar of power that its grandmother could become if tempted.
“Listen, Pendaran, if you keep my daughter safe and unharmed I will be grateful. However, the child is mine. Do not think you’re going to fix any strange plot on my granddaughter.” Kahlan folded her daughter in her arms and kissed her forehead before turning to look at the Winter Court King.
Igraine watched her mother exchange words with Pendaran and touch her; she remained quiet through the whole ordeal – entirely exhausted from the event of her wedding and the shattering of the veil. Her eyes were hollow as she stood there in the heavy dress, bearing witness to Pendaran’s first footsteps on the Human plane.
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Paroxysm on Tue Jul 17, 2012 1:01 am
The Unseelie king arched a questioning brow and then shook his head, “Why would I mock? I’m warning you,” Pendaran corrected, “Because I would rather Death’s agents not involve themselves in either of our affairs. Death may be gone, but his followers are dutiful and they enforce his laws with a zealot’s fervor. Whatever agreement you have with Saqin Kirynes Rasche, I assure you, does not extend to those who serve him, if they even know of it.”
Pendaran folded his arms across his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Just a warning for old time’s sake,” was Pendaran’s final words on the matter; he had not answered Kahlan’s summons to discuss matters only loosely related to the situation at hand, after all. It would have just been a shame if the Dirige were to enslave, kill, or imprison so lovely a specimen as Kahlan when she could still be used for the benefit of Pendaran and his Unseelie fae.
Under normal circumstances, the Unseelie lord would have had a good scoff at Kahlan and Mab’s expense, but by the time he was going to respond with something witty, the angel had mentioned her granddaughter and Pendaran could only chuckle in response, a laugh that was genuinely joyful.
“My,” Pendaran said when he finished laughing, a very faint harshness punctuating his words, “You need not worry about me! I have already given my word to not use or harm your granddaughter,” Pendaran gestured toward Igraine, who he had of course made the promise to, “and I always keep a bargain, word for word,” he said.
Unfortunately for Kahlan, Pendaran was quite skilled at maneuvering between words; he did not need to lay a hand on or even think a conscious thought about Igraine’s unborn child for something to happen to it, or for some other entity to take an interest in the child.
“That said,” Pendaran began, exasperated, “I only want the thing protected, myself.”
There was no denying that Pendaran was interested in the child, that was his nature, after all, but he wanted a great deal many things--and most of them had eluded him for some time. The child was a resource and it would have been useful, but he was more than happy to see it unused than in the hands of his immediate enemies. So long as Kahlan kept the child out of Mab’s clutches or away from any other factions, Pendaran was, for the time being, happy.
Of course, things would quickly change if he felt the child had been compromised and had become a threat.
Pendaran folded his arms across his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Just a warning for old time’s sake,” was Pendaran’s final words on the matter; he had not answered Kahlan’s summons to discuss matters only loosely related to the situation at hand, after all. It would have just been a shame if the Dirige were to enslave, kill, or imprison so lovely a specimen as Kahlan when she could still be used for the benefit of Pendaran and his Unseelie fae.
Under normal circumstances, the Unseelie lord would have had a good scoff at Kahlan and Mab’s expense, but by the time he was going to respond with something witty, the angel had mentioned her granddaughter and Pendaran could only chuckle in response, a laugh that was genuinely joyful.
“My,” Pendaran said when he finished laughing, a very faint harshness punctuating his words, “You need not worry about me! I have already given my word to not use or harm your granddaughter,” Pendaran gestured toward Igraine, who he had of course made the promise to, “and I always keep a bargain, word for word,” he said.
Unfortunately for Kahlan, Pendaran was quite skilled at maneuvering between words; he did not need to lay a hand on or even think a conscious thought about Igraine’s unborn child for something to happen to it, or for some other entity to take an interest in the child.
“That said,” Pendaran began, exasperated, “I only want the thing protected, myself.”
There was no denying that Pendaran was interested in the child, that was his nature, after all, but he wanted a great deal many things--and most of them had eluded him for some time. The child was a resource and it would have been useful, but he was more than happy to see it unused than in the hands of his immediate enemies. So long as Kahlan kept the child out of Mab’s clutches or away from any other factions, Pendaran was, for the time being, happy.
Of course, things would quickly change if he felt the child had been compromised and had become a threat.
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Igraine on Wed Jul 18, 2012 8:05 pm
“The only interest Mab has in the unborn child is the fact that she will become the next Queen after Igraine. Mab’s focus is entirely centered on Igraine, and it would seem that you have managed to slap the hornet’s nest. Of all the people to choose, all of the time you could have waited, you pick Mab’s successor. You know how much she hates you.” Kahlan, honestly, could care less what Pendaran did. He’d tried to encourage her to side with him a long time ago – before she had remembered who and what she was.
Once the memories flooded back, the power, the knowledge of a lifetime and a half – Kahlan had been sorely tempted to join Pendaran’s fight against the world. A small smile lifted the corners of her lips as she looked down at the ground for a moment. Those were interesting and tumultuous times. Kahlan had been the heir apparent to the Seelie throne, her father had just been killed in battle, and her lover had turned against her. Pendaran chose well, truly, he knew how to work the field. However, the nail in his coffin had come after a meeting with Queen Mab. Everything had changed, and Pendaran still didn’t know what had happened during that critical event. It was obvious that he deeply resented Mab’s intervention in his procuring an Angel for his cause.
“If you protect them, I will be grateful. You don’t scare me, Pendaran, you never have.” Kahlan turned to him then and a hint of what she was flashed silver over a sea of blue in her eyes. The old angel was a lot of things, had done and seen enough for ten lifetimes, and would eventually pass back into Heaven permanently – or Hell. She might even spend time in Purgatory with Death if he were still around somewhere. There was a reason her wings were still flecked with black, and she chose to stay out of heaven for a host of reasons – all of the pride and anger of her youth for one. Kahlan’s story was a long and brutal one, and when it ended some would breathe a sigh of relief and others would mourn. Though, it was her desire to pass quietly into the next realm without anyone the wiser.
“War will come; Mab will be incapable of overlooking the slight that you have produced by taking her heir. It’s like dangling candy in front of a small child and telling her she can’t have it. She will go to war in order to obtain what she views as rightfully hers.” Kahlan glanced at her daughter and smiled. “So long as no harm comes to my daughter and granddaughter, I will refrain from entering the war. I haven’t revealed this to Mab, but I’m telling you because of our history.”
Kahlan reached out and took her daughter’s hands which were ice cold. “I will sit out of the war to raise my granddaughter as Igraine has asked of me. Isabella Rivenfelde will also sit out the war in order to look after the child. It is imperative that the future Queen’s heir is kept safe.”
Kahlan whispered the last to Igraine, and tightened her hands around her daughter’s hands. Igraine smiled the first real smile she’d had in months. It took an immense weight off her shoulders knowing that her mother wasn’t going to battle for her and would take extra care in raising Morgana. When her mother backed away, Igraine took her position next to – but not touching – King Pendaran.
“I have to return to Jace. He will not understand my absence. There is still the matter of dealing with my wedding present.” The Bocan was going to die, and it wasn’t going to take a lot of effort. She had been held imprisoned while her son roamed freely under the careful hand of the newly minted Unseelie Queen. Jace might not understand when he learned of his parentage, but she hoped he would come to accept the reasoning behind killing his mother.
Once the memories flooded back, the power, the knowledge of a lifetime and a half – Kahlan had been sorely tempted to join Pendaran’s fight against the world. A small smile lifted the corners of her lips as she looked down at the ground for a moment. Those were interesting and tumultuous times. Kahlan had been the heir apparent to the Seelie throne, her father had just been killed in battle, and her lover had turned against her. Pendaran chose well, truly, he knew how to work the field. However, the nail in his coffin had come after a meeting with Queen Mab. Everything had changed, and Pendaran still didn’t know what had happened during that critical event. It was obvious that he deeply resented Mab’s intervention in his procuring an Angel for his cause.
“If you protect them, I will be grateful. You don’t scare me, Pendaran, you never have.” Kahlan turned to him then and a hint of what she was flashed silver over a sea of blue in her eyes. The old angel was a lot of things, had done and seen enough for ten lifetimes, and would eventually pass back into Heaven permanently – or Hell. She might even spend time in Purgatory with Death if he were still around somewhere. There was a reason her wings were still flecked with black, and she chose to stay out of heaven for a host of reasons – all of the pride and anger of her youth for one. Kahlan’s story was a long and brutal one, and when it ended some would breathe a sigh of relief and others would mourn. Though, it was her desire to pass quietly into the next realm without anyone the wiser.
“War will come; Mab will be incapable of overlooking the slight that you have produced by taking her heir. It’s like dangling candy in front of a small child and telling her she can’t have it. She will go to war in order to obtain what she views as rightfully hers.” Kahlan glanced at her daughter and smiled. “So long as no harm comes to my daughter and granddaughter, I will refrain from entering the war. I haven’t revealed this to Mab, but I’m telling you because of our history.”
Kahlan reached out and took her daughter’s hands which were ice cold. “I will sit out of the war to raise my granddaughter as Igraine has asked of me. Isabella Rivenfelde will also sit out the war in order to look after the child. It is imperative that the future Queen’s heir is kept safe.”
Kahlan whispered the last to Igraine, and tightened her hands around her daughter’s hands. Igraine smiled the first real smile she’d had in months. It took an immense weight off her shoulders knowing that her mother wasn’t going to battle for her and would take extra care in raising Morgana. When her mother backed away, Igraine took her position next to – but not touching – King Pendaran.
“I have to return to Jace. He will not understand my absence. There is still the matter of dealing with my wedding present.” The Bocan was going to die, and it wasn’t going to take a lot of effort. She had been held imprisoned while her son roamed freely under the careful hand of the newly minted Unseelie Queen. Jace might not understand when he learned of his parentage, but she hoped he would come to accept the reasoning behind killing his mother.
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Paroxysm on Wed Jul 18, 2012 9:21 pm
"No, I imagine you do not fear me," Pendaran responded coolly, "But you know who I am and what I've done, and what I can do; it would do neither of us any good to be at each other's throats when there's so many more pressing matters."
Fear could be a powerful tool, but just as Kahlan knew Pendaran, he, too, knew her, and he knew that fear would only serve him so well as a weapon against her. Indeed, until Pendaran could orchestrate a plot to get the angel on his side--not an especially hard thing to do, he now realized--it would be in both their interests to stay out of each other's hair.
"Regardless of what Mab chooses," Pendaran said without disguising his disgust, "She will find the Unseelie more than capable of defending itself."
Things were already working out well for Pendaran and his people, but Kahlan’s words weren’t falling completely on deaf ears, at least. If his imprisonment had taught him anything, it was the value of patience and caution, where one misstep could cost him everything he had set in motion, and he would be damned if, after so long, the Seelie would simply overwhelm him with military might. As the Unseelie were fresh upon the mortal world after so long, outside of Pendaran’s own influence and agents, they had no true presence, and would need a place to settle, a power base that would allow them to firmly establish themselves; a beachhead from which they could move their own army and defend themselves so that when the Seelie did march--and Pendaran did believe that truly would be Mab’s response--their army would find only the hell that was attrition waiting for them.
Does the blood thirst come from the father or the mother, Pendaran wondered silently to himself as he glanced over to Igraine. He did hope that his meddling had not caused something inside of the woman to break or become unhinged. Then again, she was of Summer, wasn’t she?
“Very well,” Pendaran said before opening another passage into the Unseelie.
“I do hope we can speak again, Kahlan,” Pendaran said as he switched his focus back onto the angel, “This was more pleasant than I was expecting.”
The Unseelie king would not immediately head back into the Unseelie, however. He would wait to make sure Kahlan had nothing else to say before he went back to his realm; after all, it would be impolite to leave before the one who summoned him was finished speaking their piece.
Fear could be a powerful tool, but just as Kahlan knew Pendaran, he, too, knew her, and he knew that fear would only serve him so well as a weapon against her. Indeed, until Pendaran could orchestrate a plot to get the angel on his side--not an especially hard thing to do, he now realized--it would be in both their interests to stay out of each other's hair.
"Regardless of what Mab chooses," Pendaran said without disguising his disgust, "She will find the Unseelie more than capable of defending itself."
Things were already working out well for Pendaran and his people, but Kahlan’s words weren’t falling completely on deaf ears, at least. If his imprisonment had taught him anything, it was the value of patience and caution, where one misstep could cost him everything he had set in motion, and he would be damned if, after so long, the Seelie would simply overwhelm him with military might. As the Unseelie were fresh upon the mortal world after so long, outside of Pendaran’s own influence and agents, they had no true presence, and would need a place to settle, a power base that would allow them to firmly establish themselves; a beachhead from which they could move their own army and defend themselves so that when the Seelie did march--and Pendaran did believe that truly would be Mab’s response--their army would find only the hell that was attrition waiting for them.
Does the blood thirst come from the father or the mother, Pendaran wondered silently to himself as he glanced over to Igraine. He did hope that his meddling had not caused something inside of the woman to break or become unhinged. Then again, she was of Summer, wasn’t she?
“Very well,” Pendaran said before opening another passage into the Unseelie.
“I do hope we can speak again, Kahlan,” Pendaran said as he switched his focus back onto the angel, “This was more pleasant than I was expecting.”
The Unseelie king would not immediately head back into the Unseelie, however. He would wait to make sure Kahlan had nothing else to say before he went back to his realm; after all, it would be impolite to leave before the one who summoned him was finished speaking their piece.
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Igraine on Sat Jul 21, 2012 12:39 pm
“You expect so very little of me.” Kahlan said with amusement as she cast her eyes to the sky. Her daughter’s removal left something of a void in her chest, but she wouldn’t admit that to anyone. She wasn’t dead, at least, and she would be protected – however strangely by the Unseelie King. Kahlan could make deals with Pendaran, she could become the tragedy that everyone once thought she would be. That wasn’t her way, though, and so she cast her eyes to the evening sky.
“I stand by what I said. I will stay out of this war in person, if not in council, while my interests are protected. I trust you with this, Pendaran. However misguided my trust might be, I trust that you will not allow harm to come to Igraine and the child she will give birth to. If you fail me…” Kahlan let out an amused chuckle as she leveled her gaze on Pendaran. She was a stunning woman, all things considered; there were legends around her in Ulster and other places in the world. Where Igraine had that otherworldly Fae appeal mixed with some Angel blood, Kahlan was only slightly wrapped in that deep Fae magick.
Kahlan and Pendaran could have made an intense pairing, once. They were well suited with the fire in her veins and the ice in his. He could handle her outbursts if not her true form, and she ignored his icy nature. Once they had been very fascinated with one another, even if love had never entered the picture. Kahlan understood how her betrayal could have made Pendaran angry enough to hunt down her child and use her.
“Igraine will be a handful. I tell you this as an old friend. Pregnancy is not easy at the best of times, and to bear the child that she will, on top of the marriage to you and the breaking of the veil…” Kahlan shrugged and pulled the hood of her cloak back up. “Keep her out of the war, keep her busy, try not breaking her too badly – she looks and sounds broken enough as it is. I imagine being married to you threw her over the edge.” Kahlan laughed then, a soft musical sound that added to the night instead of distracting from it. She dipped her head to Pendaran, amusement still coloring her eyes as she looked at him. She backed toward the veil, stepping part of the way through. Even if Pendaran ran at her and tackled her he wouldn’t make it through the veil he so wanted into. That was a tougher shell to crack, deeper, harder, more intricate magic.
If Pendaran had anything to say, Kahlan would wait for it. When he was done speaking she would melt completely into the Fae realm to handle Mab as only Kahlan was ever capable of doing.
Once Pendaran rejoined his wife, Igraine wouldn’t look at him. Though his mental question about the anger and fierce sense of retribution…well that was a matter of opinion. The anger could be argued in Vylrath’s favor, but the retribution was something squarely in Kahlan’s court.
“I need a knife and a sword. I prefer only your eyes watching me do this. However, if you wish to make a spectacle of it I will comply.” Igraine spoke as they walked.
“I stand by what I said. I will stay out of this war in person, if not in council, while my interests are protected. I trust you with this, Pendaran. However misguided my trust might be, I trust that you will not allow harm to come to Igraine and the child she will give birth to. If you fail me…” Kahlan let out an amused chuckle as she leveled her gaze on Pendaran. She was a stunning woman, all things considered; there were legends around her in Ulster and other places in the world. Where Igraine had that otherworldly Fae appeal mixed with some Angel blood, Kahlan was only slightly wrapped in that deep Fae magick.
Kahlan and Pendaran could have made an intense pairing, once. They were well suited with the fire in her veins and the ice in his. He could handle her outbursts if not her true form, and she ignored his icy nature. Once they had been very fascinated with one another, even if love had never entered the picture. Kahlan understood how her betrayal could have made Pendaran angry enough to hunt down her child and use her.
“Igraine will be a handful. I tell you this as an old friend. Pregnancy is not easy at the best of times, and to bear the child that she will, on top of the marriage to you and the breaking of the veil…” Kahlan shrugged and pulled the hood of her cloak back up. “Keep her out of the war, keep her busy, try not breaking her too badly – she looks and sounds broken enough as it is. I imagine being married to you threw her over the edge.” Kahlan laughed then, a soft musical sound that added to the night instead of distracting from it. She dipped her head to Pendaran, amusement still coloring her eyes as she looked at him. She backed toward the veil, stepping part of the way through. Even if Pendaran ran at her and tackled her he wouldn’t make it through the veil he so wanted into. That was a tougher shell to crack, deeper, harder, more intricate magic.
If Pendaran had anything to say, Kahlan would wait for it. When he was done speaking she would melt completely into the Fae realm to handle Mab as only Kahlan was ever capable of doing.
Once Pendaran rejoined his wife, Igraine wouldn’t look at him. Though his mental question about the anger and fierce sense of retribution…well that was a matter of opinion. The anger could be argued in Vylrath’s favor, but the retribution was something squarely in Kahlan’s court.
“I need a knife and a sword. I prefer only your eyes watching me do this. However, if you wish to make a spectacle of it I will comply.” Igraine spoke as they walked.
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Paroxysm on Sat Jul 21, 2012 11:22 pm
The Unseelie king returned the heavenly matron's stare with both indifference and curiosity behind his gaze. He was not especially concerned about 'failing' Kahlan or the potential retribution she thought to levy against him, but he was interested in what she might try and do against him. It had been a while since Pendaran got to see her, after all; he was more than curious about any new tricks she might have learned during his . . . imprisonment.
"Is marriage to me so bad?" Pendaran asked out loud, smiling.
Although there was a number of things that he still wanted to discuss (and yet more that he wanted answered), Pendaran knew that he needed to return to his realm to take care of more pressing matters. Indeed, without waiting for an answer to his query, the simulacrum that Pendaran had created to act as host to his consciousness and soul had already begun to melt back into the river.
"Spectacle?" Pendaran asked with a harsh tone and narrowed eyes.
He had returned to the Unseelie not long after the last drop of water from his mortal vessel had been returned to the river. Igraine's insinuation had not truly irritated him, of course, but he was annoyed by her delusion, or whatever it was going through her mind.
"Lydia did what she did to please me--and she succeeded, to an extent. I would rather Thorin have not come to my realm, but a partial victory is still a victory. I won't enjoy her death and barring you, I won't have others enjoy it either."
Although Lydia's death was, ultimately, inconsequential, Pendaran did not like his servants dying for nothing and especially not when they had succeeded in something he saw to be in benefit for his court. Still, the twice Queen Igraine would get her wish and be allowed to play the part of executioner, but it was in no way acceptable for her to try and make Pendaran out to be more of a villain in this than she was. This execution--no, this murder was being wrought not by the Unseelie king's hand, but by the hand of his wife, Igraine. Pendaran still had his part to play in this, however; in the end, it would just not be what Igraine (or even Lydia) would think.
“That said,” the king spat, “I will provide you with the knife and sword you require," he sighed, "Ah, but what about a blindfold? Or would you prefer her to see her death coming?"
"Is marriage to me so bad?" Pendaran asked out loud, smiling.
Although there was a number of things that he still wanted to discuss (and yet more that he wanted answered), Pendaran knew that he needed to return to his realm to take care of more pressing matters. Indeed, without waiting for an answer to his query, the simulacrum that Pendaran had created to act as host to his consciousness and soul had already begun to melt back into the river.
"Spectacle?" Pendaran asked with a harsh tone and narrowed eyes.
He had returned to the Unseelie not long after the last drop of water from his mortal vessel had been returned to the river. Igraine's insinuation had not truly irritated him, of course, but he was annoyed by her delusion, or whatever it was going through her mind.
"Lydia did what she did to please me--and she succeeded, to an extent. I would rather Thorin have not come to my realm, but a partial victory is still a victory. I won't enjoy her death and barring you, I won't have others enjoy it either."
Although Lydia's death was, ultimately, inconsequential, Pendaran did not like his servants dying for nothing and especially not when they had succeeded in something he saw to be in benefit for his court. Still, the twice Queen Igraine would get her wish and be allowed to play the part of executioner, but it was in no way acceptable for her to try and make Pendaran out to be more of a villain in this than she was. This execution--no, this murder was being wrought not by the Unseelie king's hand, but by the hand of his wife, Igraine. Pendaran still had his part to play in this, however; in the end, it would just not be what Igraine (or even Lydia) would think.
“That said,” the king spat, “I will provide you with the knife and sword you require," he sighed, "Ah, but what about a blindfold? Or would you prefer her to see her death coming?"
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Paroxysm - Site Admin
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Igraine on Thu Jul 26, 2012 11:10 am
“She knows what she has done. A blindfold is not necessary.” Igraine spoke quietly. She didn’t care what Pendaran thought. If one of her own done anything similar the King would stand at the front of the line desiring retribution. The Queen felt slightly unhinged, as if everything she knew was falling apart at the seams. She hoped that by killing Lydia she would find something of herself again, as morbid as that sounded even to her.
“If you will excuse me, I need to change out of these clothes.” Igraine bowed her head to Pendaran and walked quietly to her room. No one bothered her but anyone that encountered her stared for a moment. This was their new Queen, the woman their King had spent so much time trying to obtain for his goals. Some of the older Unseelie that could remember Kahlan compared the daughter and mother. Most were wary of her powers which had not been displayed. What sort of woman could be the offspring of an Angel and a Demon and have the keys to the Seelie Court? A mythic creature she did not seem to make.
Once Igraine was in her rooms, now the Queen’s rooms because she didn’t plan on sharing a chamber with Pendaran, she had her personal servants undress her. She picked a simple black gown so that no blood would show on her should any find its way to her. The gown was sleeveless, the waistline beginning just under her breasts so that the folds of the dress smoothed evenly over her growing belly. Some might question whether it was Pendaran’s child, whether that was the reason for his quick marriage to the future Seelie Queen. Truth be told, Morgana was Thorin Xanathi’s child. Igraine had her hair taken down out of the intricate updo and brushed it out herself until it almost sparkled in the low light of the candles. She tied her hair back loosely at the nape of her neck before leaving her room.
The walk seemed short as Igraine rejoined Pendaran. She appeared gentle and demure, dressed for a funeral even though it was her wedding day. A thought occurred to her as they walked to Pendaran’s place of choice.
“Would it be possible to set up an apothecary? It is something of a hobby of mine and it keeps my nerves calm. My apothecary in Ulster was destroyed by Thorin.” Pendaran might notice an undertone of anger with regards to the man, which he might find amusing.
“If you will excuse me, I need to change out of these clothes.” Igraine bowed her head to Pendaran and walked quietly to her room. No one bothered her but anyone that encountered her stared for a moment. This was their new Queen, the woman their King had spent so much time trying to obtain for his goals. Some of the older Unseelie that could remember Kahlan compared the daughter and mother. Most were wary of her powers which had not been displayed. What sort of woman could be the offspring of an Angel and a Demon and have the keys to the Seelie Court? A mythic creature she did not seem to make.
Once Igraine was in her rooms, now the Queen’s rooms because she didn’t plan on sharing a chamber with Pendaran, she had her personal servants undress her. She picked a simple black gown so that no blood would show on her should any find its way to her. The gown was sleeveless, the waistline beginning just under her breasts so that the folds of the dress smoothed evenly over her growing belly. Some might question whether it was Pendaran’s child, whether that was the reason for his quick marriage to the future Seelie Queen. Truth be told, Morgana was Thorin Xanathi’s child. Igraine had her hair taken down out of the intricate updo and brushed it out herself until it almost sparkled in the low light of the candles. She tied her hair back loosely at the nape of her neck before leaving her room.
The walk seemed short as Igraine rejoined Pendaran. She appeared gentle and demure, dressed for a funeral even though it was her wedding day. A thought occurred to her as they walked to Pendaran’s place of choice.
“Would it be possible to set up an apothecary? It is something of a hobby of mine and it keeps my nerves calm. My apothecary in Ulster was destroyed by Thorin.” Pendaran might notice an undertone of anger with regards to the man, which he might find amusing.
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Igraine - Recovering Caffiene Addict
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Paroxysm on Sat Jul 28, 2012 2:22 pm
Truth be told, whether or not Lydia knew her crime was not the issue here . . . Still, this was but one of Igraine's conditions for the marriage and Pendaran saw no reason to interfere with how she wanted things done, provided, of course, the Seelie heiress did not delve into petty cruelties. There was only so much indignity Pendaran would allow Lydia to suffer, after all.
Once Igraine had excused herself, It did not take Pendaran long before he had begun wandering the halls of his stronghold. Indeed, he walked and walked, and when he finally came to a stop, he was back in the same spot he had been in when Igraine left and before too awfully long, she, too, was back, and they were on their way to the room that Pendaran had ordered Lydia moved to shortly after his betrothed had demanded to be the bocan's executioner.
“I don’t see any reason why not,” Pendaran said somewhat amused. To be honest, she had not really needed to ask him for permission; after all, if anything, Pendaran was happy to know about this hobby of hers. The Unseelie were well versed in all things alchemy, from the upkeep of an herb garden to the mixing and brewing of potions. Granted, not all of their creations were particularly beneficial when used by (or on) another, but, still, the interests were there.
“I will see to it that one is made for your private use, but if you wish for any specific specimens you will have to ask it of the ban’sidhe, or one of the pixies, I suppose.”
It was not surprising that Thorin had destroyed something of Igraine’s, but for his part, Pendaran made no mention or acknowledgement of it. To be completely honest, it was exactly the kind of thing Pendaran had come to expect of the Xanathi.
“And at last we arrive,” Pendaran announced as he (and presumably, Igraine) came to a stop in front of an old oak door, its frame decorated with intricate carvings. Although it should have been obvious, this was not the entrance to a dungeon and nor was it a cell in any way, shape, or form; it was just a room, normal in every way, and inside of it, it was decorated with all the comforts one would expect to see.
Once Igraine had excused herself, It did not take Pendaran long before he had begun wandering the halls of his stronghold. Indeed, he walked and walked, and when he finally came to a stop, he was back in the same spot he had been in when Igraine left and before too awfully long, she, too, was back, and they were on their way to the room that Pendaran had ordered Lydia moved to shortly after his betrothed had demanded to be the bocan's executioner.
“I don’t see any reason why not,” Pendaran said somewhat amused. To be honest, she had not really needed to ask him for permission; after all, if anything, Pendaran was happy to know about this hobby of hers. The Unseelie were well versed in all things alchemy, from the upkeep of an herb garden to the mixing and brewing of potions. Granted, not all of their creations were particularly beneficial when used by (or on) another, but, still, the interests were there.
“I will see to it that one is made for your private use, but if you wish for any specific specimens you will have to ask it of the ban’sidhe, or one of the pixies, I suppose.”
It was not surprising that Thorin had destroyed something of Igraine’s, but for his part, Pendaran made no mention or acknowledgement of it. To be completely honest, it was exactly the kind of thing Pendaran had come to expect of the Xanathi.
“And at last we arrive,” Pendaran announced as he (and presumably, Igraine) came to a stop in front of an old oak door, its frame decorated with intricate carvings. Although it should have been obvious, this was not the entrance to a dungeon and nor was it a cell in any way, shape, or form; it was just a room, normal in every way, and inside of it, it was decorated with all the comforts one would expect to see.
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Paroxysm - Site Admin
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Re: A Union of Courts (Wedding)
by Igraine on Mon Jul 30, 2012 10:35 am
Igraine made no comment about Pendaran’s choice of cells. If it had been one of her kind or a human they would have been dead by now or in a much grittier cell. She opened the door to the room and stepped inside, not really fearing much. Pendaran wouldn’t let the Bocan hurt her severely or kill her. He had spent far too long procuring her to let her go now.
“I didn’t know the Ban’sidhe were interested in such things.” Igraine said with a note of curiosity in her voice. A quick glance around the room showed no Bocan, but further investigation of darker corners of the room revealed a pair of amber eyes.
“You know why I have come.” The new Unseelie Queen said quietly, her emerald green eyes calm and even compassionate.
“I do. I thought it might come to this.” Lydia spoke from her dark corner, taking a moment before walking out in all of her Bocan glory -- dark green hair, a mouth full of sharp fangs, and long sharp claws used for shredding prey.
“Then why do it, why sacrifice your life for nothing?” Igraine shook her head, very aware of the useless waste of life.
“I knew it would please my King. I am aware that getting pregnant might have been a bit excessive. How is my son?” Lydia tilted her head, forming her words carefully around her mouthful of razors so that they would not be misunderstood. She wore a simple black shift, not one for the sacrificial lamb analogies.
“He’s growing well and fast. He looks a lot like his father, though there are some of your features that are more prominent.” Igraine said reasonably. She knew that Lydia would have abandoned him to a nurse until he was old enough to teach hunting to, and then again she would have left him to fend for himself.
“I will not pretend love for my son. He was a means to an end, albeit I regret having the child with your previous intended. Perhaps I would have been allowed to live longer.” Amara laughed then, a shrill cackle that served no purpose because it did nothing to shake Igraine – where it might have before she was married to the King of the Unseelie.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Igraine smiled as if she were only visiting for tea and stepped closer to the Bocan.
“Here, use this. I know the King would have given you something to use, but this has special meaning to me. It’s what we’re supposed to kill ourselves with if we’ve ever been caught by anyone desiring information. I want you to keep it after I die. It could come in handy for you some day, either for yourself or your defense.” Lydia handed over a black bladed knife that could slip easily between the fingers and be concealed. It would also be easy to puncture the neck in a vicious way in order to kill. Lydia looked more content when Igraine accepted the weapon and settled on her knees on the stone floor.
“Lydia you are charged by me with impersonation of my body and voice in order to obtain my brother for use against me. Do you deny this?”
“No.”
“The sentence is death.”
“I welcome it gladly.” Lydia bowed her head so that her deep green hair swayed forward and exposed her spine and neck.
Igraine didn’t hesitate as she drove Lydia’s knife into the back of her neck, twisting it to sever nerves and veins and vocal cords. She then sliced one side of her neck so that she would bleed out fast and not suffer. When Lydia’s body slipped to the side and convulsed once, bleeding out at a rapid pace, Igraine stepped over the growing pool of blood and closed the Bocan’s clouding eyes. She shook her head and smoothed the woman’s hair out in a ceremonial fashion.
“I don’t know what you have done with your dead, but I think she would appreciate being buried or burned in what she would normally wear for your service, and not this gown. She met her death bravely.” Igraine washed her hands carefully of the Bocan’s blood before turning to Pendaran and then stepping around him and out the door.
It was a short walk to where the nanny kept Jace. When the boy saw Igraine he lit up and ran to her and threw his arms around her knees. He was growing at a very fast pace, attributed of course to his genes as a Bocan and the way time seemed to be on fast forward in the Unseelie Realm (as it was in the Seelie Realm).
Igraine settled on a stool and smiled as she drew her foster son into her lap and wrapped her arms around him. He was talking about something the Nanny was trying to make him do, cleaning up it sounded like. He didn’t particularly care for the idea and it made Igraine smile. She told him that he had to listen to his Nanny.
Igraine would have to tell Jace, when he was older, that she had just killed his real mother. Would he understand? Would he care? Igraine didn’t know, and so she tugged the little boy closer against her growing belly, the baby inside gently kicking at her half-brother. As he so often did when they were together, Jace pretended as young children do, to play with the baby inside her belly. Morgana seemed to be pleased by the interaction because she always calmed down when Jace was around to “play” with.
It was obvious that they would be great friends.
“I didn’t know the Ban’sidhe were interested in such things.” Igraine said with a note of curiosity in her voice. A quick glance around the room showed no Bocan, but further investigation of darker corners of the room revealed a pair of amber eyes.
“You know why I have come.” The new Unseelie Queen said quietly, her emerald green eyes calm and even compassionate.
“I do. I thought it might come to this.” Lydia spoke from her dark corner, taking a moment before walking out in all of her Bocan glory -- dark green hair, a mouth full of sharp fangs, and long sharp claws used for shredding prey.
“Then why do it, why sacrifice your life for nothing?” Igraine shook her head, very aware of the useless waste of life.
“I knew it would please my King. I am aware that getting pregnant might have been a bit excessive. How is my son?” Lydia tilted her head, forming her words carefully around her mouthful of razors so that they would not be misunderstood. She wore a simple black shift, not one for the sacrificial lamb analogies.
“He’s growing well and fast. He looks a lot like his father, though there are some of your features that are more prominent.” Igraine said reasonably. She knew that Lydia would have abandoned him to a nurse until he was old enough to teach hunting to, and then again she would have left him to fend for himself.
“I will not pretend love for my son. He was a means to an end, albeit I regret having the child with your previous intended. Perhaps I would have been allowed to live longer.” Amara laughed then, a shrill cackle that served no purpose because it did nothing to shake Igraine – where it might have before she was married to the King of the Unseelie.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Igraine smiled as if she were only visiting for tea and stepped closer to the Bocan.
“Here, use this. I know the King would have given you something to use, but this has special meaning to me. It’s what we’re supposed to kill ourselves with if we’ve ever been caught by anyone desiring information. I want you to keep it after I die. It could come in handy for you some day, either for yourself or your defense.” Lydia handed over a black bladed knife that could slip easily between the fingers and be concealed. It would also be easy to puncture the neck in a vicious way in order to kill. Lydia looked more content when Igraine accepted the weapon and settled on her knees on the stone floor.
“Lydia you are charged by me with impersonation of my body and voice in order to obtain my brother for use against me. Do you deny this?”
“No.”
“The sentence is death.”
“I welcome it gladly.” Lydia bowed her head so that her deep green hair swayed forward and exposed her spine and neck.
Igraine didn’t hesitate as she drove Lydia’s knife into the back of her neck, twisting it to sever nerves and veins and vocal cords. She then sliced one side of her neck so that she would bleed out fast and not suffer. When Lydia’s body slipped to the side and convulsed once, bleeding out at a rapid pace, Igraine stepped over the growing pool of blood and closed the Bocan’s clouding eyes. She shook her head and smoothed the woman’s hair out in a ceremonial fashion.
“I don’t know what you have done with your dead, but I think she would appreciate being buried or burned in what she would normally wear for your service, and not this gown. She met her death bravely.” Igraine washed her hands carefully of the Bocan’s blood before turning to Pendaran and then stepping around him and out the door.
It was a short walk to where the nanny kept Jace. When the boy saw Igraine he lit up and ran to her and threw his arms around her knees. He was growing at a very fast pace, attributed of course to his genes as a Bocan and the way time seemed to be on fast forward in the Unseelie Realm (as it was in the Seelie Realm).
Igraine settled on a stool and smiled as she drew her foster son into her lap and wrapped her arms around him. He was talking about something the Nanny was trying to make him do, cleaning up it sounded like. He didn’t particularly care for the idea and it made Igraine smile. She told him that he had to listen to his Nanny.
Igraine would have to tell Jace, when he was older, that she had just killed his real mother. Would he understand? Would he care? Igraine didn’t know, and so she tugged the little boy closer against her growing belly, the baby inside gently kicking at her half-brother. As he so often did when they were together, Jace pretended as young children do, to play with the baby inside her belly. Morgana seemed to be pleased by the interaction because she always calmed down when Jace was around to “play” with.
It was obvious that they would be great friends.
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Igraine - Recovering Caffiene Addict
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