[center]Brynjar scoffed as Beorn brought up Artemesia as if she were the answer to everything. It annoyed him greatly. In his mind Beorn was nothing more than an extension of Lelinus. The monk may not have poor health, but he was certainly weak compared to greater men. He was almost impressed that Beorn had grown a spine to approach him during such a public celebration. He began to mull over the best way to humiliate the spiritual man when the chatter of the room died down and Lelinus had approached.
This was no surprise. Lelinus often came to Beorn's defense whenever Brynjar was being particularly cruel to the man. He sighed. Even he knew he couldn't cause a great scene. He released the poor girl who scurried away as fast as her feet allowed. She didn't want to be anywhere near his clutches again.
Brynjar rose to his feet and picked up his goblet. "Ah, baby brother!" he held his goblet high. "Today is indeed a joyous day. Not only have you been united in marriage but you've united two nations that have been at war." There was a hidden edge to his words that not even the alcohol could stifle. Those who knew the brothers knew how much they despised one another. This wasn't a toast of congratulations, this was a jest and slight towards the weaker son.
"May your looms be fertile and spring forth many children. "Surely you are eager to take your new and young wife to bed. The festivities can carry on without you, milord," he tilted his cup towards Lelinus before he winked rather saucily at Ingrid.