Snippet #2755916

Kezia bit her lip, eyes narrowing in displeasure behind her own dark veil at her dear sister's soft reminder. It took incredible restraint to refrain from pouting, and she nearly cut her lip from biting so hard. Holding her tongue was not something she did when in private with her sister, and she had originally feared saying anything on the way over would make the journey worse. Alas, it seemed she would have to let out her tirade now lest she lose her composure once back in the view of the world.

"But it's not fair!" she began at last, daring to allow a whine into her voice when alone in her sister's company. "They started all this shameless squabbling. And now this brutish king is forcing father to marry us off for the sake of some treaty! How do we know they'll even keep their end?" she began, folding her arms across her chest and letting out a huff. "Besides..." she added, voice slightly softer now. "Why do you get a prince? And I some bastard cousin of the king?" Kezia pouted for real this time, only to lower her head, feeling bad for snapping at Sera. She loved her sister, and she wasn't really upset at her marrying higher (at least not mainly). It was easier to be jealous than to really admit what was wrong.
"I wanted to have some say in who I'd be married to..." she murmured softly, trying not to sound pathetic. She had always been a romantic at heart, and had actually developed a crush on a soldier under her father's command. Not of course, that she dared say such to the soldier, or her parents.

All too soon, she felt the carriage stop, and the younger countess of Varinka hurried to fix herself, losing the pout and dabbing a single frustrated tear away. How on earth had she let that slip?

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The ladies carriage had yet to arrive.

Navarre waited a moment in his carriage, letting out a sigh at the tediousness of it all. He had to travel all the way out here to meet his betrothed (king's idea, not his), a political marriage, obviously. He had assumed he'd one day have to surrender to duty and custom, but he had at least hoped to have a little more time. Though, even he could admit he was well into the age when young nobles courted or married.

Not, of course, that that would make him any likelier to become king.
It was an odd feeling. One the one hand, he was more than just a little pissed off that he couldn't decide how things should go- he had good ideas too! And as a youth, he had envisioned himself and his brother side by side ruling a grand kingdom as the most successful and glorious monarchs in history.

But now, not only would such childhood whimsy's never come to pass, he was also never going to be king. He'd be prince forever. And sure, he did feel some relief at not being the one with all the responsibility (after all, who had the time?), but it was still not right. Just because he came out five minutes after his twin.

But the most insulting part?

Here he was, being used as a pawn in some treaty- along with his bastard cousin! Damn he wanted to punch that stupid king in his face sometimes!

With another sigh, he stepped out and awaited the arrival of the women, vaguely wondering if they would have their father or attendants accompanying them, or would the damsels be trusted on their own? He could only hope and pray his bride to be wasn't some simpering idiot.

He hated court ladies. And simpering idiots.

Upon getting out, Navarre caught sight of one Robin Grey. The illegitimate child who would one day be Earl. And the man couldn't even find anything to wear besides armor? Heaven help them all.
Navarre stood a foot apart from his cousin, barely acknowledging the man as he waited for the countesses.