A collab with @Goldeagle1221Castle of Olmsbridge, Lynnfaire
Swords clanged, a bright spark ricocheting off the dancing blades. Edith swung her blade again, dancing around Abigail, targeting her back. The blade hissed through the air, only to be caught by Abigail's blade, her arm reaching over her shoulder to parry. In a swift stroke, Abigail spun to face Edith and the blades, the pommel of her sword popping out of the parry to strike the flat of Edith's blade, knocking the point of her blade to the floor, Abigail’s boot stepping on it, snapping the sword from Edith's grasp, as her own sword rested under Edith's chin, the dulled practice tip pressed onto her skin.
Edith huffed, exhausted. She wiped sweat that was forming on her forehead and smiled, adopting a casual stance, "I'm afraid..." she gulped air, "I have nothing left to teach you today."
Abigail seemed hardly half as tired as Edith, a vigor electrifying her eyes, her fingers shaking with energy, "nonsense!"
"No," Edith waved her hand, "Never before have I met someone so quick to learn, but I am honored to have been the teacher of that person."
"Honored?" Abigail juggled the hilt of her blade to and fro from each hand idly, "we can't be done just yet, it has merely been two days."
"Don't worry" Edith walked over to the far side of the indoor gymnasium, finding a bowl of cool water left out by the servants, "we can pick up again tomorrow, not that I see much point, I feel as though you are my equal."
"Then call it sparring," Abigail shrugged, making her way to the weapon stands, "if you don't want to call it lessons, either way, I don't want to stop."
"Nor do I think you should," Edith splashed her face, "not with your natural talent."
There was a knock on the door and both women turned to it, Abigail calling out, "Hello?"
"Archon Vorren is here for his appointment with her Majesty," an elderly voice called out, and Abigail paled, "I forgot," she mouthed at Edith who shrugged.
"Uh... yes!" Abigail called back out, "Have him meet me in the west tea room! I'll be there shortly."
"and if he asks what keeps her Majesty?" The voice called back, old, almost lecturing. Abigail twisted her face, "don't worry about that, just let him know, I'll be there shortly."
---- ----
The west tea room was quant. Bright woods covered the stonework of the castle, and large open windows overlooked a courtyard some stories below. Comfy and plush chairs sat on short stubby legs, circling a low sitting table, a wooden pattern burned onto it and painted with an oil to maintain a glossy look. Drapes covered the bare walls, held to part by golden ropes and revealing various marble busts and small murals painted onto the wood. The glass windows were cranked open by some well-made mechanism, letting in a crisp spring breeze that carried the green scent of grass and buttercups.
On one chair Vorren made himself at home, at the request of an old servant, with the words that Abigail would be with him shortly. He toyed with his tea, swirling it around the rim of the porcelain, but not hard enough to spill over the edge. He thought about the fiery woman who defied Duke William and claimed the throne of Lynnfaire. He didn't really
know her, not like he did his own Electors. Everything he did know had been relayed by word of mouth or by written word. It remained to be seen just what kind of woman she was in private, beyond the 'warrior princess with a stiff upper lip.'
On the other hand, did it really matter? The marriage was political, and Abigail had already secured herself an heir. So long as she and Vorren could sit in the same room without incident, there was nothing more asked of them. Yet, that felt so - unsatisfying. Even if the union was symbolic, he hoped they wouldn't have to merely pretend they liked each other. The Archon frowned as he swirled his cup too hard, a drop sneaking over the rim and hurling itself to the floor. He set the cup down on its saucer - probably for the best - and his attention was turned to the sound of the patter of heels on stone outside. He straightened in his seat and looked to the door.
The footfalls stopped outside the door and it swung open, a wrinkly hand on the knob as the elder servant let Abigail in. Abigail stepped through the portal and into the room, dawning a welcoming smile. Her golden hair was pulled up and held by a simple pin, studded with some foreign blue stone, and her face was clear of any make-up often seen in Lynnfaire nobility, wielding only her natural look. A keen eye could notice the hasty wardrobe she had put together. Vorren bowed respectfully as she entered and was surprised to see, from his hunched perspective, a pair of black leather sparring boots poking out from under from her cobalt blue and silver-lined dress. Also evident were the hems of padded pants meant for combat.
"It's a pleasure, Your Highness," Vorren said as he returned to eye-level.
"Likewise-" Abigail cocked her head, "would I call you first-among-equals?"
The vampire laughed. "Merely 'Archon' will do. I claim no titles other than my name and station."
Finding a seat opposite of Vorren, Abigail sat, pulling discretely at her dress, as if to hide as much of her boots as possible, "Archon it is then." Vorren returned to his seat in turn.
The servant handed Abigail a tiny saucer and cup of steaming tea, bowing deeply. Abigail nodded her thanks and the man left the room. Abigail took a sip, more to test the temperature than taste, before setting the saucer down on the table.
"So," Abigail continued, "it would be obvious to say that you got my message, and I, yours."
"Obviously," Vorren said lightheartedly. "And it would be just as obvious to say you look more prepared for a fencing session than a diplomatic talk." Abigail grasped at her dress, her attempt at illusion squashed, but Vorren held up a hand. "What school does Your Highness practice?"
"I practice with the sword, both arming and long," Abigail answered, pride returning to her voice at the question, "but I'm partial to the hand and a half."
"I can only assume you know swords as well?" Abigail seemed intent on the topic, her gaze unwavering.
"I've trained in a number of styles. Traditional Lynndian, Tarkiman sword and shield, Utyrian longsword, to name a few. The longevity of my kind provides an opportunity to try many things in one lifetime." With a chuckle, he added, "Maybe not as diligently as I should."
"Then you will have to spar with me sometime soon, I fear I have exhausted my military advisor already," Abigail leaned forward in her seat, "bring all your styles, I want to see them."
"It would be an honor. This advisor is the same one responsible for putting Duke William in his place so many times over the course of the war?"
"Edith," Abigail nodded, "yes, she is from the Electorates, even."
"All the more reason I'm glad she's on your side. Last I heard, there was to be a diet to resolve the matter of succession?"
The glint in Abigail's eye turned into a look of seriousness, often seen on a politician, "yes, I leave in the morning for Rownstetaine, and then hopefully return the following day with the civil war behind me and peace ahead."
"Which also involves our arrangement," Abigail ceded, "our marriage will bond Vlaanburg and Lynnfaire closer than it has ever been barring ancient history, the nobles of this realm can't afford not to back it. With cousins in Osetina, and ourselves bonded in matrimony, this region of Askor would be politically solid and stable, more so than it has been for quite some time... but I'm sure you thought of this long before you arrived here. Admittedly, it may also be a deciding factor for some in the diet, to that of which I am selfish to use you for my own politics."
"Selfish and smart are synonyms, depending who you ask," Vorren said with a shrug. "I'm just as excited as you to see our lands bonded together. When all is said and done, I pray others reconsider any designs they might have on either Lynnfaire or Vlaanburg. It's no secret, as I'm sure you know, that the Electorates have been in its neighbors' sights for some time. Even the renown of our pikes can't dissuade them forever."
"I am aware," Abigail fell back into her chair, but keeping a straight back, "I find it despicable to say the least. I do not hold the same fiery hatred as others do, such as my cousin William, and I do not hold the people responsible, but if I may speak freely on this, I do find the administration coarse and alien. I do not see why they would think driving a wedge between Vlaanburg and Lynnfaire would be a task to ponder, but at least with their ample warning we know what to expect. If you really want to hear an earful on that you should talk to the Archbishop d'Kamwell."
"It's my hope Lynnfaire doesn’t fall into another war right after winning one. But nevertheless - let's talk of other things. Unions should be happy times, be they for love or for politics." Vorren sipped at his tea, his eyebrows lurching up as the liquid entered his mouth. "Goodness, that's sweet," he blurted.
Abigail snickered, "honey in everything, it is the Lynnfaire way." She paused, "that's nearly a euphemism for optimism, I like it." She shook her head, skipping back onto topic "was there anything regarding the marriage that I could help you with? With our different governments, I feel like there will be plenty of contracts and treaties to keep all the details in order."
"As you know, Vlaanburg is hardly one country. Were I an Elector, this marriage might only concern Lynnfaire and the canton of Bergen. Although none of my peers objected to the union, I can't claim to speak for every one of them personally." Vorren took another swig and continued, "Although, being Archon, I maintain a degree of authority by example. I'm curious what Lynnfairish nobles think of their queen marrying... well, a vampire."
Abigail stopped mid sip, raising a brow and placing the cup back on its saucer, "well, it is only just starting to circulate the nobility, but I think our close proximity for so long has softened many of our nobles to the idea. The act is rather new, but the concept of a Lynnfairish lady marrying into a vampyric family is hardly a recent thought." Abigail shook her head, "although those stories are usually of greed, lust and love, and not politics or the greater good."
She tapped her chin for a moment, "while I doubt there will be much backlash, with their eyes more focused on your title than your being, I personally... well." She stopped and went back to her tea. Hiding her mouth with her cup she uttered before a sip, "don't know what to expect."
Vorren eyed her for a moment as she disappeared behind her tea. Then asked, "'Expect' from the nobility, or 'expect' from
me, Your Highness?"
Abigail sipped again, her eyes slowly drifting to the ceiling in thought as she drained the rest of the tea, the liquid running lukewarm. Gingerly she placed the empty cup down and smiled, "in general, I suppose."
"You are..." She pondered her words, "significantly older than I am, and of different experience. I do not know what to expect from our partnership or what impression it will leave when I fade to age and ultimately the grave. You will be going strong when my son is an active and well-aged king."
Vorren nodded. He'd expected the matter of age to arise, from Abigail if not by his own choosing. "I'll have you know, that in vampire years, I'm merely thirty-two," he said with a grin. "But I understand your concern. I wish there was an easy answer, but in truth, I think we'll both have to find out together."
Abigail's eyes widened, "I'm thirty-two as well! Er, well... human thirty-two."
"You see," Vorren exclaimed, leaning back, "we have more in common than we don't!" Then, in a softer voice, "I understand the political nature of this marriage. I, too, believe in the 'greater good' it will usher into the east. Even so, it's my hope that you won't find a lifetime with my vampyric nature a burden. So long as you will it, I wish for us to make the best of this in the time we're allotted."
Abigial nodded, "yes, but let's not talk about it as if it will pass in seconds. I realize I brought it up, but it just hit me we are talking about my entire life on this realm." An existential look passed on her face. "Needless to say, I do not expect a burden... but I do ask you be patient with me, I do not even know the true nature of vampyrism or all that it entails."
"'Patient?' Of course, Your Highness - I have all the time in the world!"
"Good," Abigail smiled, "and while we are alone you may call me by my birth name, as is custom of married nobles."
"Oh, but we aren't married yet," Vorren said with a fanged smile. "How scandalous!"
"I think you will fit into Lynnfairish high society just fine," Abigail snickered.
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Plank Sinatra
