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Genevieve Hansdottir

"What he doesn't know will kill him soon enough."

0 · 999 views · located in Tiberia

a character in “Of Glory”, as played by Inuiri

Description

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"I’ll always stand by your side."




The Basics




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Full Name: Genevieve Hansdottir
Nicknames: Genny by whoever prefers, mostly childhood friends know her by this
Ronan often adresses her as a new type of flower almost daily
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Rank/Title:
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Kingdom/Alliance: Ostwall




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color: Golden brown
Eye Color: Grey, Icy Blue
Height: 5’4’’
Weight: 121 lbs
Tattoos: N/A
Piercings: N/A
Scars: N/A
Description: Anyone with eyes and a functioning brain can tell that Genevieve’s beauty is almost overpowering, it's no wonder Ronan fell for her so quickly. Her curved figure and long darkened gold locks, paired with pale skin make her stand out, and up close her piercing cat-like eyes can make anyone bend to her will. To her she’s no different than anyone else, although this changes as she receives more and more praise from Ronan, constantly being pumped full of pretty words about her beauty. Her plump cheeks always lift and give her an even more innocent appearance whenever she smiles, as she spends more time with her lover she begins to learn to use these things to her advantage. Her right cheek is adorned with two beauty marks, and many like them are peppered across her porcelain skin, arms, back, anywhere. She has relatively large hips, good for childbearing, despite her insides not matching up quite well. Venus dimples grace her lower back, making her horribly desirable to the few who have seen her undressd.




What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Easily Manipulated, Naive, Hopeful, Enamored}
Genevieve was at one time, an innocent girl. It would still seem so to outsiders but those who know her well have noticed. Even thinking of killing would terrify her, but now she accepts that it's a duty that must be done for her to truly be happy, deluded by her lover's own insanity. This all came as a result of getting involved with Ronan. She was always kind to the prince when she first arrived in her new home, ignoring subtle hints about his behavior from concerned servants. He was so kind, how could he possibly be the monster they alluded to? It must have been hard having a mother in law who’s 4 years younger, so she would always make an effort to show him affection. As she spent more time with him and their relationship changed to one of romance and passion, his hateful nature rubbed off on her, and this is now slowly becoming more apparent to Ulfric.
Despite this, Genevieve is a very sensitive and broken girl. The years of abuse she suffered have left her a very frightened girl. She, unfortunately, blindly trusts Ronan though, unaware he's disturbingly similar to her father and naive enough to believe him when he says he's not what other's think he is. He's her first love, why wouldn't she trust him after all? At the slightest confrontation, she will break down in tears, though Ronan has been trying to correct this to keep them from being found out. Shouting, raising a hand wrong, anything vaguely threatening and Genevieve will crumble and become utterly submissive. Despite this, she still gets a strange rush, some sense of being needed and more appreciated when Ronan bosses her around and tells her what to do.
Genevieve shares a deep love for Cedany, seeing much of herself when she was younger in her despite being only a few years her senior. She tries to keep her step-children's best interests in mind when planning for the future with Ronan, but ruling is still quite new to her. She may be naive, but she can still pick up that Theran and Adelaide aren't the biggest fan's of her, not that she can blame them. She understands completely and only hopes to win them over the best she can in the future
Hobbies:
  • Singing
  • Dancing
  • Reading
  • Strategizing

Habits:
  • Biting her nails
  • Shuffling and fiddling with clothes when nervous
  • Clinging to the nearest person when startled
Oddities:
  • Undiagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Likes/Loves:
  • Ronan
  • Children
  • Art
  • Ronan’s sisters and Half Brother
  • Her brother
  • Revenge
  • Being praised
  • Being pushed around by Ronan

Dislikes/Hates:
  • Her father
  • Ulfric
  • The man who killed her brother
  • Being talked down to
  • Receiving orders from those she dislikes
  • Shouting




What's Done Is Done




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Biography
Place Of Origin: Falor
Birth Date: February 7th
History: Genevieve was born into a noble family, growing up comfortably and happy. Growing up, her best friend was her brother, Gavin - two years her senior - and Lucas Brigham. They were inseparable, but when she had reached the age of 8, her father, Hans, had more strongly discouraged her from being with the boys, going off the notion that she would try and act more masculine. Her mother had tried to change his mind, but whenever the conversation arose her mother would appear with bruises and remain silent for the next few days. As Genevieve grew even older she experienced the same abuse, causing tension to grow between her father and brother. Every day they would be stretched thinner to the point of breaking. Unfortunately, her father snapped first.
It was a usual day, Genevieve and Gavin were out in the garden, one of the few places they had been able to escape to. She had been nursing bruises and he was comforting her. As they heard footsteps approaching, the two lifted their heads to see a man shrouded in black robes, a hood covering his face. He looked casual enough as he walked up and Gavin stood to address him. But the second her brother moved the man sprang into action and unsheathed a dagger from his thigh, slicing the teenaged boys throat and shoving his limp body onto Genevieve as he gripped desperately to the last moments of his life. The girl screamed, hurrying into the castle with blood soaking her gown. She was cleaned up and got to hear her father’s boasting of finally getting rid of Gavin later that night. Her father had been the one to hire the assassin, he felt threatened by his son and had gotten rid of him before he had the chance to protect his sister and mother for good by killing his father.
A few years passed, and news had spread that the Queen of Ostwall had died and the King was searching for a new bride. So, before she knew it Genevieve was being shipped to Ostwall with no warning, only being told of Ulfric and Hans’ exchanging of letters moments before she left. She looked back on her home with tears in her eyes, she hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to the friends she once had. Once she arrived in her new home, she was greeted to a man old enough to be her father. She was kind to him, but she never cared for him more than she needed to.
The one she really cared for was his son.
He was dangerous, or so she was told by the servants, but she was kind to him. It must have been hard having a mother in law who’s 4 years younger, so she would always make an effort to show him affection. The first time he had kissed her she was afraid, not because of Ronan but because they could be caught. He urged her to keep visiting, which became even easier when Ulfric had to visit other nations. Ronan soon began to expose his plans to overthrow his father, and after some coaxing, Genevieve agreed with ease.
Happiest Memory: Being wooed by Ronan
Saddest Memory: Being sent off to Ostwall




Face Claim: Natalie Dormer

So begins...

Genevieve Hansdottir's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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He couldn't tell if he liked these events or not. The last time Ronan had attended, he had been a lad of thirteen. He recalled very little from the event except for the single hunt he had been allowed on by his father. Freya hadn't wanted it, had pleaded Ulfric not to let the boy attend, but Ulfric had insisted, pointed out that another boy just a year older than he would ride with them. Ronan supposed that was one of the few good memories he had managed to forge with his father.

Now, he was twenty-three, and he knew that whatever his father had tried to forge in that brief father-son encounter had been superficial. Likely, Ulfric had only taken Ronan because he pitied the young prince. Ronan huffed in annoyance and tightened his fingers around the stem of the goblet in his hand. No, that was certainly it. Pity.

Well, he didn't want it or need it. In fact, perhaps he would have pitied Ulfric, but he didn't. Even as he watched Genevieve from across the ballroom, he felt no regret, no sense of wrongdoing. It was simply what his father deserved. He certainly didn't deserve her.

Ronan brushed a hand against his mask for a moment, ensuring it was in place before he started to walk towards Genevieve. He came just steps away from her, was about to invite her to dance, when his father stepped in, effectively cutting him off from his love.




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He too had watched Genevieve, but not out of spite for another person or even out of love. Ulfric noticed the way she moved, the grace with which she conducted herself as she moved in and out of the nobles, exchanging greetings with whomever she passed. It was a bitter reminder of Freya, and he grimaced to himself behind his mask. He wasn't sure he could call what he felt "love", but it was a strong emotion. An affection, if anything. His new wife was a gem in a wasteland like Ostwall. Sometimes he regretted taking her as his, but she had fit in well afterwards, he reassured himself.

Couples whirled around him to the beat of the music, and he seemed to slowly come to his senses, blinking a few times as he looked about. He could see a few others who had stopped moving and taken to the wall like he had, but he knew he was out of place. He'd been out of place each time he attended one of these events. And he thoughts were brought back to Genevieve, to how effortlessly she managed to make herself relevant. Perhaps he ought to approach her. It was the kind thing to do.

The last time he had attended, Freya had been with him, and the two danced the night away. He had never been a lithe man, was never made to waltz, but he had embarrassed himself just to hear the way she laughed gleefully each time he nearly crushed her toe or caught on her dress. He hoped he could find that with Genevieve. And so he approached the young woman, clearing his throat now with a soft cough.

"Would you...care to dance?" he inquired, hesitating for a few heartbeats before extending his hand, oblivious to Ronan who clenched his fists behind the older man, boring holes into Ulfric's head with just his gaze.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Inuiri
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To an outsider Genevieve’s motions probably looked beautiful, watching her flit about speaking to everyone she could with a smile on her face, grey eyes lighting up under her mask with every person she spoke to.
Truly, she was horrified. She wanted nothing more than to run and hide in her lover’s arms and weep. With every step she glanced over her shoulder in terror, trying to keep a look out for the man who had ruined her life.
Her Father.
This was Seabal, no ball of her own, Genevieve couldn’t control the people invited the way she could in Ostwall. So from the moment she arrived and spotted him she had frantically separated from her husband in a desperate attempt to not be spotted by her abuser. A tiny bit of her hoped the mask would be enough to hide her, but her golden brown locks stood out, especially with their length.Image
In her terrified, hypersensitive state, her heart leapt out of her chest when she heard footsteps approaching. She flinched and turned, spotting Ronan and almost bawling with relief at the sight of him only for… Him to step in. She schooled the pitiful look on her face as she gazed up at Ulfric, close to shaking at how close he was to her. He was easy to pick out. Ostwall looked so different than everywhere else, her family stuck out like sore thumbs among the other royalty.
Still, Genevieve managed a smile for the man she didn’t love. “I..” She stammered pitifully at the offer. This certainly threw her entire night off it’s track. Ulfric wanting to dance had never been part of her itinerary, but neither had her father’s appearance… Still, she wasn’t going to be rude to him. He had never been rude to her. “Yes. That sounds lovely.” Genevieve told him gently, taking his hand and squeezing it lightly, despite her heart still feeling like it would explode out of terror.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Ulfric smiled back at Genevieve’s attempt at a look of pleasure or joy or something of that nature. She wasn’t wrong in observing the difference between her new family and her old people. Ostwall was still, and likely always would be, a kingdom of clansmen and wars and pillage. In fact, he couldn’t really call the nation “his” - it was his people’s more so than his own, if he was being completely honest with himself.

The older man took her hand in his, letting her dainty fingers brush against his far more calloused ones, hardened by years of war and toil for his country. No one could doubt that Ulfric had rightfully taken the throne, for in his prime, he’d been a formidable opponent. Even now, rumor had it that he could still wrestle even the most capable warrior. While that wasn’t true by any means, he still was a strong man, but he let himself relax ever so slightly before his wife.

He could tell she was uncomfortable. Something seemed to gnaw at her as he spun her on to the dance floor, whisking her for just a moment by his children. But he was too busy frowning back at her, attempting to discern something from her expression. So lost was he that he stepped on her foot for a heartbeat before stepping off suddenly.

”My apologies, my lady,” he sputtered, struggling now to find the beat after he’d lost it. Music had never been a strong suit, and it never would be. Hell, he hadn’t heard music until he’d become king. Slowly, he fit them back into the song - granted, of course, they remained half a beat behind every other couple in the area.

”Something’s on your mind,” he observed, maintaining a stoic expression as he studied her expression once again. ”Anything...in particular?” He felt as though he walked a battlefield each time he spoke to her, afraid that one misplaced step would send a barrage of arrows his way. Freya had pitied him for that, at least - she’d speak openly without prompting. She knew he never knew how to begin small talk. And now he wish she had let him learn, for how else was he to communicate to the girl before him? His wife, damn it.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Inuiri
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Genevieve followed along with ease, clearly the more skilled dancer; she moved like it was second nature to her, as easy as walking. His expression made her uneasy, leaving her with no option but to duck her head down to avoid his frown. She hadn’t been too obvious about Ronan had she? If she had… She was already frightened enough, Ulfric’s scrutiny only making her panic more and stumble, apologizing the same moment as him and giggling nervously. “It’s alright.” She assured him, managing to keep the shakiness from her voice.
She did her best to get them back on beat with the others, but her own anxiety didn’t do much to help, and she feared taking control too much wouldn’t end well. It was impossible to look away from Ronan as he hung around his siblings, heart aching as Genevieve looked away all too quickly, keeping her eyes down until Ulfric spoke again, making her visibly tense.
What was she to say? The man who sold me off to you is here didn’t sound very ladylike, or decent at all for that matter. She wanted Ronan. She wanted to be away from this hell and safe with her beloved. Yet another thing she couldn't tell her husband. "It's nothing." She finally lied after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. "It's just been quite a while since the last time I was at a party. I'm nervous is all." Was that convincing enough? She was hardly sure, with her mind racing a mile a minute she could barely even keep track of what color she was wearing. It seemed like the safest bet. If she told him the truth he might go over to him and try to thank him, keeping her at his side like some trophy. The thought alone made her force down tears.
When the song changed and Cedany and her siblings rushed out, her heart flooded with relief, forcing her expression to stay at a rather neutral smile. She waited for Ulfric to release her, so she could wait at the sidelines again and oh so conveniently her Ronan would come over and offer to dance with her. She could tell Ulfric she wasn't feeling well - not even a lie, truly she felt sick being in such close proximity with her fath - and Ronan, being the wonderful doting son he was, would offer to take her off somewhere less crowded and she could stay there with him for the remainder of the night. But he didn't release her, simply shifting to change tempo for the next song, and she felt like she could hear her heart shattering. But she was a good girl, so despite how she was dying within, she kept up a smile as they danced.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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He smiled back at her for a moment as she giggled, not picking up on the nervousness that fueled the sound. Instead, he read it only as amusement, and he was glad for a moment, hoping she was beginning to warm up. Ulfric wasn’t stupid enough to believe she loved him, for he knew she didn’t and she wouldn’t. It was impossible to love someone forced upon oneself. She also probably knew that he didn’t love her - or, at least, not in the way he’d loved his wife. Perhaps he loved her by now in some way at least. Genevieve had grown on him, but he could never love her as a wife.

A sense of pity accompanied his thoughts, but he attempted to assure himself she was alright. After all, she had companions more of her age in his children. He hoped that eased the ache for home.

"Nervous?” he chorused, as if trying the word out on his tongue, perhaps a bit incredulously. He let out a soft, questioning sort of sound, and they moved in silence for a bit. "You’ve little to be nervous about.” Ulfric attempted to console her, but he knew not the true reasoning behind her nervousness, and so he spoke blindly. "You put an old man like me to shame out here. But now he could see a change in expression, one that seemed like she was on the verge of tears. He didn’t know where else to go with his supposed consolation, and so he let himself fall silent.

The song ended now, and he could see his children rush out on to the floor where Ronan followed them, barreling along in a way that brought a grin to Ulfric’s face again. So caught up was he now that he failed to release Genevieve when the song ended, and he attempted to flow right into the next tune. Of course, he was entirely incapable of doing so, and he noticed the way her expression befouled with what he could interpret as dread. Of corse, he wouldn't think it was dread of seeing or being near her father. Instead, his own face lost its previous smile as he decided to interpret her actions as simply not wanting to dance with him any longer.

And so they danced in another silence, Ulfric attempting to keep his eyes averted, for he couldn't really stand watching the pained expression. When the song finally ended, he backed off and looked down at her, his lips pressed together in an expression that was more fitting for him.

"You're free to go back to your room if you want," he said. "I won't keep you here if you don't want to be."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Inuiri
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"You put an old man like me to shame out here.” A genuine smile graced her lips at that despite how her eyes shimmered threateningly with tears she forced down, earning a little bell-like laugh from his wife as she murmured her thanks bashfully.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you’re doing just fine.” Genevieve assured him, squeezing his shoulder gently and ignoring the pain in her chest. He was sweet. He at least tried. But he wasn’t Ronan, and he never would be. She frowned when she couldn't quite control her expression, choking on her apology, getting it caught in her throat as she danced in tense silence. Gently, she shifted to press her head to his shoulder, trying to do something to reassure him. She liked him. But he would never give her the happiness she deserved. So Ronan said he had to go.

"It's not you." She promised when the song ended. "I swear it." Genevieve added nervously, eager to please out of a deep set fear. "I think I've just had enough dancing for now." She said softly. It wasn't a lie, which was refreshing, she wasn't sure she could even accept if her beloved offered. Dancing was too easy to notice. If she stood among the crowd she could blend in and be no different than anyone else. It would be a fine substitute until it was decent to slip away. It was still wrong to just leave her family here. She leaned up and slipped her arms around his neck, hugging him for a few solid seconds as she whispered her thanks for his consideration, pressing her lips to his cheek to keep up the act. As she took a step back, she gave him a smile, squeezing his hand before slipping away into the crowd, glancing over at Ronan as she went and praying he would see it before she disappeared.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Loras Estermont Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Her apology only seemed to cause his gut to churn, caused him to frown deeply and cast his eyes away. He couldn't bear to see the way she looked at him, for he knew he'd see the tears that pooled in her eyes, threatening to tumble down her cheeks if he looked at her too long.

Ulfric had to take her word for it as she assured him isn't wasn't his fault. And yet, he couldn't help but feel responsible. Maybe it wasn't directly his fault - he could give her that - but never had he seen her this upset, this close to tears. Perhaps on their wedding day she'd looked upon him that tearfully.

The king put his own arm around her waist for a moment, hoping his grip acted to comfort her. But Ulfric removed it quickly, afraid he'd only do more to soil the moment. He smiled at her kiss though and made a movement as if to reciprocate it. She had moved away though, lingering only long enough to squeeze his hand before she disappeared into the crowd. And then he was alone, but not for too long.

He sensed Hans before he saw him, knowing the man was nearby. Over the years, he'd lost the muscle that would have made him heavier than the man, but Ulfric still remained slightly taller. It was only emphasized by the boots he had worn to the dance. He liked that, if he were being honest, and he turned now to face the younger man.

"Ah, Your Highness," Hans greeted, pulling himself upright as he looked up at Ulfric. "It has been some time since we have spoken."

"Since the wedding, Lord Adolfson." Ulfric spoke quickly and to the point. He'd never liked the man, but there was a level of respect his father-in-law deserved.

"Yes, I believe you're right." Ulfric turned to him now. He wore an expression of boredom that just barely hid the conflicting emotions that still gnawed at him. He hated this, and the noble wasn't making it much easier.

"I know," he returned. "Is there something I can help you with, Hans?" The younger nobleman shrugged for a moment, looking out at the crowds as though he were searching for something. Or someone.

"No, no, enjoy yourself." He was gone almost as quickly as he had appeared, and Ulfric was left alone, watching as the nobleman walked himself over to Genevieve. Hans approached the girl from behind, fully aware of what he was doing, and seized her wrist tightly. "It has certainly been some time since I've seen you, hm?"

But Ulfric couldn't hear them across the ballroom, and he'd begun to lose them now. Damn his eyesight. It seemed to go more and more with age. He turned suddenly now and took a few steps behind him until he ran quite literally into Loras Estermont. Ulfric jumped back slightly, offering an arm to steady the younger man out of instinct. He probably hadn't done much damage, he noticed, for the man stood larger than even Ronan. His jaw hung for a moment as he looked up at the blond man, perhaps ever so slightly in awe. They'd once called him a bear among men, but the young man before him was more formidable than any man he'd seen before.

"Should have watched where I was going, I suppose," he remarked, frowning back at Loras. "My apologies, sir..." He drifted off for a moment, frowning as he struggled to recognize him. "...Estermont's boy, aye?" He stepped back again, letting his arm fall to his side. "No hard feelings? I don't suppose I'd like to be on the bad side of you or your Pa." Ulfric gave a bit of a smile then, trying to seem more friendly than he appeared.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Inuiri
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Freedom. At long last. Genevieve’s breathing slowed a fair amount when she melted into anonymity in the crowd. She moved towards the hors d'oeuvres, scanning over them and hoping her love would join her soon. She felt someone close in behind her, smiling in anticipation before she felt the crushing grip on her wrist, and she couldn’t help the soft sob of pain and horror she let out. She writhed, trying to get out of his hold as tears welled up, dangerously close to overflowing as she trembled, doing her best to avoid his gaze as long as she could.

“Look at me you ungrateful girl.” Hans snapped, his hold on her dainty wrist hard enough to bruise. “Hiding from me all night- I’m still your father.” The man hissed, cutting himself off in his own anger, every little action and word laced with hate. As always, he felt entitled to her, to everything. Such was the result of being spoiled from the moment he was born, never disciplined.

Instantly, the girl sobbed an apology, the dam breaking as tears flooded down her rosy cheeks, forgetting everything except the moment she was in. In her mind she was nothing but a child again, helpless as her father beat her for disobeying; Ronan, Cedany, her new family she loved dearly didn’t exist in her mind right now, unable to even comprehend them as she bawled.

“Stop that.” Her elder practically snarled, yanking on her arm, “Always making a fool of yourself, you wonder why I got rid of you.” he berated. “I hope your king keeps you in line.” Genevieve trembled before him and hiccuped softly, curling in on herself, obeying her father, doing her best to not draw attention, unaware her cries had already grabbed the gaze of the one most important to her.

“I-I’m sorry papa..” The brunette wept softly, doing her best to just please him as she used her free hand to cover her head the way she did when she was a child, trying to shield herself from being struck.

“Shut up.” Hans muttered, “Your mother would be ashamed of you if she were still around.” He muttered, harsh and disappointed as he dropped that bomb on her. His daughter froze, eyes widening in horror as she lifted her gaze to him, still trembling horribly.

“M-Mama..? Mama is gone?” She whispered apprehensively, her hand slowly falling to her side as her jaw hung open dumbly.

Hans grunted in reply, releasing her bruised wrist and shoving it away, disgusted with her weakness. "Months ago." He muttered simply, like he was just stating what the weather was like.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Juliana Auclair Character Portrait: Eleora de Croismare Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Loras Estermont Character Portrait:
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#, as written by Demai
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Loras had never really been one for dancing, and watching his sister and the other Captain waltz together was quite enough for him. He watched them for a moment with a little smile on his lips, and then turned, stepping away to allow them privacy. He soon migrated off to the side, taking up residence near one of the many open windows and just scanning the general area. He didn’t cut the most approachable figure, standing there with his shoulders back and his arms crossed, and so he didn’t quite have to worry about people coming over and approaching him.

As he let his sea-blue eyes flick over the ballroom, taking in the clouds that adorned the ceiling and the dresses that gave vibrant color to the gold floor, his gaze lighted upon a woman with red-gold hair and a yellow dress, gazing out the window. She looked at peace, and a soft little smile came to his lips at the sight of her. She didn’t look particularly rich, probably a lady in waiting or something to be at that dance, normally reserved for people of higher standing. In any case, she had a kindness about her that he hadn’t seen in... a long time. His first thought was his mother, to be honest. She had that sort of soft sweetness about her face. He took a step towards the woman, perhaps to address her or to ask her where she was from, pausing only to avoid interrupting her as she took a deep breath of night air.

He was about to take his chance when suddenly, a familiar blonde stepped into view. His gaze softened at the sight of Juliana, the woman he had wooed so long ago. His heart still ached for her sometimes, and he caught himself gazing after her as if he were some stupid schoolboy. The queen’s voice reached his own ears, but he had no time to focus on it. He saw something flicker in the redhead’s eyes as her eyes opened, before she turned to look at Juliana; something unreadable to all those save for those who were specifically searching for it. It was an instinctive fear, a silent wish that the queen would leave her alone, almost a cry for help that no one would see save for the flowers that waved in the breeze outside and the moon high above.

Loras’ brow furrowed. There was no mistaking what had caused that clear, instinctive want to hide away. Juliana had changed since he had first been stricken by her, but... had she changed enough to warrant such a reaction in the people who served her? He himself had stepped down from his noble place to lead armies, to help his country and defend it. He had gone from someone with a great name to another soldier. Had this woman done the same? What had happened to her to cause such a reaction when the queen appeared?

It felt as if his world had been tipped on its end, suddenly. How blind had he become, in the face of his infatuation? For he knew that it was merely that. He’d left home, friends, sister for a person who terrified her servants?

It was during that revelation that another world-shaking individual would ram straight into his life.

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Normally, he would have been able to righten himself when suddenly hit with a blunt object, but he was reeling in that moment. When an arm was offered, he grasped his hand, searching out balance and stability, something to ground himself. And when he looked up, locks of his own dark hair falling in his eyes, he found it in a pair of light emerald eyes filled with awe. He was caught up in that color for a moment, and then he realized that the eyes were attached to a person. The king of Ostwall, apparently. Salt and pepper hair and a beard and arms that reminded Loras that he might need a damn hug or something--

And then he realized that Ulfric’s mouth was moving and that he was still holding his hand. The king moved let his hand fall back to his side, and Loras let go of him quickly and instinctively, taking a deep breath, offering up a crooked smile. His eyes were too bright and a little lost, betraying his relatively young age all too easily. He felt it in that moment, truly. He was... a stupid, infatuated boy who didn’t even know what he was doing.

“No hard feelings? I don't suppose I'd like to be on the bad side of you or your Pa.” Finally, Loras registered Ulfric’s words, and the grin turned wry at the mention of his father.

“None at all.” He promised, and his voice was steadier than he thought it would be. He glanced down towards the ground, taking a deep breath and then looking up towards him with a little smile, though his eyes were still as lost as a sailor in a storm. It still felt as if waves were battering at him, lowering every defense that he had. He offered him his hand once more, half wishing just for that steadying influence once more. “Loras.” He introduced himself, out of habit, leaving out all titles and names. “You’re Ulfric, right?” He questioned, and his chest warmed inexplicably at the smile that the king attempted. “Your Majesty.” He teased a little, though there was no bite behind it, and bowed to him.

He was about to go on when suddenly, a harsh voice and soft cries reached his ears. Focused for a moment, his gaze flicked up. The corners of his mouth tipped down in a frown when he saw an older man gripping the arm of... Ulfric’s young wife. He nodded towards the two, and looked back to Ulfric, his own hand going to the hilt of his sword. “I’ll knock him out if you get her out of here.” He murmured. He needed something to ground him, something similar to his job might be a good idea.

Another metaphorical wave hit him, and it was on a strange instinct that he added; “I’ll be in the garden later tonight, by the elara flowers.” It was a stab in the dark, a desperate need for company and reassurance that caused almost a plea to enter his gaze. His sister would be with her entourage, with her fiance, and he... would be alone.

Goodness, he didn’t want to be alone.

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Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Cedany Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Adelaide Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Theran Ulfricson Character Portrait:
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Ronan danced about with his siblings, pulling them along to the beat of the music. He was indeed far more coordinated than their father, but that meant very little. He could handle himself in battle, much like Ulfric could, but his dancing still lacked. The Ostwall style of combat relied all too much on brute force, and while it worked against unsuspecting opponents, it hadn't been updated in years.

He looked about now, unable to focus when he knew his father and his beloved were dancing. But when he found Ulfric, he saw Genevieve parting from the old man, hurrying off into the crowd. Ronan felt the urge to follow her, but he knew he couldn't. It would only affirm what Cedany knew. No, he couldn't do that. It pained him to be away from her for so long. Usually the two of them could spend as much time as they wanted together; Ostwall's palace was large enough that they were not missed if they wandered off together.

Time passed, and he tried to busy himself with simply enjoying the moment. But he couldn't, he knew he wouldn't be able to. His gaze wandered once more to Genevieve now, hoping to see her watching him so that he could let her know he wanted to be there. But she wasn't watching him - she wasn’t even facing him. He could hear Hans’ voice before he processed who the man was, and then he finally seemed to pick up on Genevieve’s sobs.

”I have to…” he began to say, trailing off as he dropped his siblings’ hands and moved away from their group. His pace was slow for just a moment, as if he were still processing the scenario. How could he have let this happen? He should have been there, not off with his sisters and brother. If he had been there -

Ronan pushed through the crowds now, causing people to stop mid-dance so that they could watch the young prince as he barreled down the warpath. He came upon Hans now, towering ever so slightly above the older man. It was enough, however, and he had far more muscle than the other man.

His hand seized around the back of Hans’ collar and pulled the older man back so quickly that he stumbled and almost lost his footing entirely.

”You best watch yourself, boy!” he sputtered after a moment of huffing in sudden anger. ”I’ll have your father on you faster tha-” A punch was thrown, and Hans was cut off as his nose crunched sickeningly. The older man screeched, grabbing at his newly-broken nose as blood waterfalled onto the floor. He watched the floor in disbelief and then looked up at Ronan as though incapable of making the connection between the two.

And Hans threw himself forward, throwing a punch of his own that split Ronan’s lip. The younger man gripped his elder and threw him to the floor before following him down. His fist moved far more quickly than he’d thought possible, catching Hans quickly in the throat before he began pummeling the older man’s face.

Ronan could feel his own knuckles cracking, but the sounds of Hans’ face and of his own bones crunching became virtually indistinguishable. It brought him a sense of pleasure to hear it, to feel it. He couldn't risk looking away from Hans, but how he wished he could see Genevieve's expression as he beat the man harder, ignoring the blood that began to speckle his face as Hans sputtered, struggling to clear his throat.

”You...fucker!” he snarled, so driven on by his fury that he didn’t notice the throbbing of his hand...or his father throwing himself into the scuffle.

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Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Loras Estermont Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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He couldn't help but give a soft laugh at the boy's half-assed attempt at a smile. It was endearing, and he could have sworn he'd given Freya that look when they were young and courting. How peculiar to see it now from Loras Estermont, he mused. But now he saw a change in the smile, and he smiled back.

"Glad to hear," he added. And perhaps he was glad that the young man wouldn't hold a grudge. Enough people didn't trust those from Ostwall as it was without him tripping over everything. He nodded at his name. "That'd be me." His smile faltered for just a moment at the bow. "Oh, stand up now. I'd rather speak to you as equals...too much of this 'Your Majesty' shit nowadays." He let his filter fall for a moment, speaking as he might have when he was younger, bolder. He'd become far too quiet in his age, for he had a role to fill. Oh, how he hated that.

Ulfric hadn't caught the cries until Loras made note of them. "Wha-" he started, cutting himself off as Loras spoke, offering to assault the man. No, no, he didn't want this. Not here. Not now. He wanted an evening to blend into the background, to speak to this man, hear the tales he had to tell. And now this was happening, and he'd have to deal with it of course. He was the king, wasn't he? He turned to Loras for a moment, as if to tell him to wait there but the young Captain was already providing instructions - to meet? That night? It seemed peculiar, he had to say that, but he wasn't the type to turn down an evening with someone else besides distant children and an even more distant wife.

"I'll-" he started again, but now he cut himself off once more as Ronan approached the situation. "Fuck" Ulfric took off now, similar to his son. He attempted to mumble apologies as he pushed through the throngs of people. They seemed to move with him, and, indeed, they did. Everyone wanted to have their own version of the story to tell the next day.

"Ronan!" He howled the boy's name as he threw himself quite literally into the fray. For a moment, both men were atop Hans, knocking the breath out of the man as Ulfric struggled to find his own footing again. His knees screamed in pain, protesting his actions. But he found traction eventually and seized around Ronan's waist

"Get up, boy!" Ulfric shouted in his ear, hoisting the young man off of Hans. Genevieve's father had given up his struggle a while ago, unable to see through the blood that streamed down his face. Instead, father and son grappled about now. Grounding himself now and using Ronan's own sloppy technique against the boy, Ulfric shoved him aside. Ronan reeled, and he nearly planted into the tile on his face, but he righted himself against a pillar and turned, wiping at his bleeding lip. His chest rose and fell harshly, and perhaps if one listened closely, they would hear the beat of his heart.

"I...fuckin-" He was cut off once more as Ulfric swung his own fist at the boy. Ronan pitched to the side with the impact, but he was caught around the collar by Ulfric who pulled the boy close to his face.

"Speak to me like that once more, and I'll be sure to show you what I'm capable of," he spat, his voice only audible to those in the first ring or two of spectators. "You think that's proper? I raised you better tha-" Ronan shoved off of his father, pushing the older man back as he stormed off. Ulfric's jaw hung slightly as he watched Ronan push a path through the crowd and out of the ballroom, practically seething. The doors closed behind him with a loud slam, but he moved only a few yards down a hall before the pain in his hand became too unbearable, his father's words became too heavy, and he let out a shout that echoed back to the hall.

Ulfric seemed to slowly become aware of the people around him, watching him closely for his next move. His jaw set as his chest rose and fell quickly. "Well, go on!" he cried, his voice a bit louder than he'd hoped. "Someone take the poor bastard out of here."

But his words fell on deaf ears. Most of the guests had parted by then, no longer interested in remaining. Few came for the dance itself these days. The real entertainment was in seeing who would be the first to soil the peace that was supposed to accompany such an event. And oh, how it had been soiled.

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Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Genevieve had fallen silent by now, head down in shame as she let him berate her as good little daughters and wives were wont to do. She let tears streak her face as she shuffled uneasily, missing her mother terribly, only able to think of how much she must have suffered in her last moments, knowing her husband hated her and that her only remaining child wasn’t there for her. She was a monster, what kind of child didn’t try to stay in contact with their mother when they knew she was being mistreated-

She was torn from her thoughts by her father’s protests, lifting her pale eyes as she trembled, taking a step backwards as she saw everything happen in slow motion, every movement, every sickening sound heightened. The poor girl didn’t even notice her own shrieks of horror until her father hit the floor and her love was bound and determined to kill him with his bare hands if he had to. She stumbled back, hitting the table and giving herself a nasty bruise as the corner dug into her pelvis, eyes full of horror as she wept with no signs of ever stopping. She didn't know what to feel. Her father certainly deserved this. But it was wrong to think so, and she was a lady... But the sight of the gore alone brought her back to her brother's death, watching it all unfold helplessly, just like back then.

Hans was nigh unrecognizable by the time Ulfric appeared from seemingly nowhere, Genevieve letting out a broken sob as they wrestled. This was her fault. Every bit of it. She should have just listened and stayed quiet like her father said. Her head was buried in her hands as she bawled now, her horrible, heartbroken shrieks echoing off the walls as Ronan left. He was going to hate her. They were all going to hate her. She should have listened…

She repeated the hateful mantra over and over in her head, unaware as Hans was dragged off and flinching when someone tried to touch her arm. She screeched in terror in reply, running as far as she could, no goal in mind but to get as far away as possible. She had ruined everything, just like always.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Juliana Auclair Character Portrait: Eleora de Croismare Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Loras Estermont
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Ellie remained behind the rest of the royals as Cy and Lucas stepped out, keeping her head down. Juliana’s voice scraped against her nerves, putting her on edge. Little did she know of the world changing thoughts that she had caused to come into the Captain of the Guard’s mind. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the tall blonde who was holding tight to the king of Ostwall’s arm at the moment, and she worried for a moment about him before Cyprian caught her eye for a bare moment. The tiniest of smiles came to her lips, silently wishing him well. It was a great relief to her that he didn’t look absolutely haggard after that conversation. He didn’t look worn out, he looked... almost vibrant. She wished to take his hands, to ask him all about what had happened, but knew she shouldn’t, knew she couldn’t. One of those days. One of those days, she would be free to take his hands whenever she wanted... She hoped.

Her heart still squeezed at the words my love directed towards Juliana, though. She had no doubt in her Cy, but... It still hurt, sometimes, often, the knowledge that she was the other woman. She’d never envisioned this for herself, not in all her life, but... Cy was worth it, she knew. That much was a fact of her life. She’d walk over hot coals for him, and she could say that about few others, if any.

One of those may have been the tiny girl, Giselle. Cy’s daughter. There was something horribly, completely endearing about her, and Ellie had fond memories of telling her stories and singing her to sleep. Her gaze flicked momentarily to her as the child went to greet her uncle for... possibly the first time in her whole life. She couldn’t help but smile, finding the sight utterly endearing. She’d braid the flower into her hair later, she resolved, maybe after she’d twirled her around the dance floor a couple of times while waiting for Cy. She soon looked down, respectfully, avoiding looking King Lucas straight in the eyes.

Then, the queen’s words reached her ears, and where Ellie’s heart had squeezed before, it stopped now. Take Giselle to bed...? With the flick of her wrist and a sickeningly sweet look in those green eyes, her mistress had dismissed all of them save for Cy. How dare she? She swallowed hard, rather than protesting. It wasn’t her place, she couldn’t raise suspicion... She let her gaze flick to Cy for a moment. She’d meet up with him later. They always found time. It just... was another roadblock. That was all it was. A silent assurance was in her eyes, a promise that it was alright.

“Yes, mistress.” She whispered, at last, and curtseyed in response before reaching out, finding Giselle’s hand and offering her a smile and then a wink. Maybe they didn’t have to go to bed just yet. “Come along, highness.” She spoke to her. With a slight glance back, she led Giselle off--and more towards the banquet tables. “I think it’s a little early for bedtime, don’t you?” She teased gently, squeezing her little hand with gentle fingers.

Then, everything went to hell.

There was screaming and shouting and people were punching and swearing--Ellie’s eyes widened and she wrapped her arms around Giselle suddenly, gathering her close and protecting her with her arms. She crouched down a little, pressing one hand to her ear and defending her from having to hear the words that were being spat. It was the rulers of Ostwall, she realized, now spattered with blood and staining the dance floor. Gold turned to red, and Ellie held her breath, focused on keeping the little princess out of the range of flying fists.

Then, she heard a heartbreaking scream, and the queen of Ostwall flew from the room. Ellie was lucky her heart was strong, for it had gone through so much in even the past ten minutes, which was to say nothing of every other part of her life. It took but another moment for Ellie to look back down at Giselle, checking over her to make sure she was alright. “Let’s grab a pastry for you and go help her.” She said gently, finding her hand again. Gently, she reached out, finding the flower that Lucas had given the little princess and tucking it behind Giselle’s ear instead. “We’ll dance as soon as we can, I promise.” She added with a little smile. Then, she found a fluffy treat for her, hesitated, and found another, just in case Genevieve needed something sweet. She led her from the dance floor, out the door that Genevieve had fled from. “Your majesty?” She called out, keeping Giselle near, just in case. “I’m Ellie, and this is Giselle... Are you alright? Were you hurt?” Worry was clear in her voice. No one should have to witness that, much less experience that, and she hoped that they could be some sort of comfort to the young queen.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Juliana Auclair Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Loras Estermont Character Portrait: Cyprian Auclair
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Juliana nodded her head towards Lady Ellie as she went off with Giselle, her daughter, her princess and put her to bed, just like she had asked. She watched the two of them momentarily before her gaze turned back towards her husband. Once she saw his hand had reached out towards, she grabbed it and attempted a smile. The spark wasn't indeed there anymore and she could definitely tell that between them now. Juliana once questioned this to herself but place the thought within the back of her mind since she was still Queen and he was still King, her King.

As he guided them to the dance floor, she genuinely smile then he spun her around, which she gasp to because it was so unexpected. They danced seemingly all around the ballroom as she stared into his gaze, giggling slightly and trying to make this a happy moment but it wasn't. She let out a quiet sigh as she just continued to dance with him with the perfect amount of elegance that one has never seen on the dance floor. Once the song had ended, she saw that he was going to kiss her and it was to be the icing on the cake. Maybe he did still love after all.

Juliana smiled as she closed her eyes and waited for the kiss but nothing happened as screams rang out in the ballroom. "Oh, my." She muttered softly while her eyes peered up towards Cyprian then back towards everyone else's direction. Due to her size, she couldn't see what was happening but definitely heard punches being thrown and women crying. Her ears twitched when she heard Ronan's voice along with Ulfric's as she hiked up her skirt and maneuvered herself through the sea of people before her but when she got there, the display was over. Her eyes looked for Genevieve but it seems as if she had run off, or something.

Her eyes then diverted towards the blood as she upset that they actually had gotten blood on her floor. Her beautiful floor. She walked away with the shake of her head back over towards Cyprian. "I suppose so. Next time, let's not invite Ostwall." She demanded with the firm nod her head as she heard her husband's next question and widened her eyes. He wanted to escort her to bed? Like together? Juliana laughed to herself at the thought then looked at Cyprian.

"I'd love it if you escorted me to bed, my love." She said with a smile while leaning up to give him a peck on the kiss. And yeah, the spark between them had indeed fizzled out. It was a shame because she actually loved him, too. "Yeah. This Kingdom isn't going to rule itself." She made a slight tease comment towards him as she grabbed his hand and started a small trek but she caught sight of Loras and quickly turned around and bumped into Cyprian. She let out a nervous chuckle before looking up at him. "Why don't we go the other way?" She didn't even give a chance to respond as she tugged him along, clenching his hand tighter and tighter, by the second due to her nerves right now.

She didn't want to see Loras just yet though somewhere inside of her heart, it still yearned for him. She did do a quick look back towards his direction though it seemed as if he had disappeared off to somewhere else. Juliana exhaled a sigh as her and Cyprian had made it to her bed chambers, by now. Before entering, she turned towards Cyprian and rested her delicate hands upon his shoulders. "Why don't you come to bed with me tonight, my love?" She raised one of her hands up and caressed his cheek before trailing it down his arm and grabbing his hand as she opened the door, stepping one foot in.

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Character Portrait: Eleora de Croismare Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Giselle Auclair Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Genevieve had managed to shove herself under a table in fear, cowering like a child as she clamped her hands over her head, weeping as quiet as she could manage, trembling violently. Ronan would hate her for this. She had ruined everything and she would lose the love of her life for it. A thud came from the table, flinching and hitting her head on it at the sound of voices. Her eyes widened as she scrambled back, trying to disappear entirely. Maybe once everything had died down she could slip away to her room. Though the sound of her injuring herself only seemed to lure them closer.

Ellie squeezed Giselle’s hand gently before releasing it as she moved slowly towards the source of the crying, wincing at the thud that echoed off the walls. Her first thought was the potential of a concussion, but perhaps that was the all around worry speaking. “Please, mistress.” She pled softly, not wanting to scare her off with a too-loud voice. “Is there any way we can help?” Would going away be the best course of action? But Ellie was unlikely to flee the scene right then.

“I-I’m f-f-fine.” The queen managed to hiccup, voice hoarse and shaky as she hugged her knees close, heart beating so hard she thought it might burst. This couldn’t be good for the baby, she vaguely thought, hands shakily tracing over the bump where her heir sat. “P-Please your mistress probably needs you.” She tried her hardest to be commanding, but she just couldn’t.
Fine was a relative term, and this woman was certainly not fine. Wasn’t she pregnant as well? That had been one of the many topics of conversation during the dance... She caught a bit of motion under the table, and knelt down a little distance away, able to see her but not moving too close to her. “She sent me off already, actually.” She offered up a soft little smile. “Wanted to dance with Cy--her husband, the king.” Her nickname for him came out automatically, and she added his titles quickly afterwards.
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Genevieve peered at her, normally calm, cat-like blue eyes full of fear as her hands tightened in her dress, trying to calm her nerves. “I didn’t mean to ruin it all..” She gasped, scrubbing her eyes, pristine cheeks turned splotchy and red.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Ellie promised, clasping her hands together and resting them on her skirt. If anything, that horrible man had done it all. Everyone else was merely reacting. “I promise. The night was drawing to a close anyway, and you... No one deserves anything like that.” She told her, her voice gentle. “Nothing’s ruined at all.” That much, she knew. There might be some gossip, but there were far more interesting things that people would have their minds on the next day.

Her heart slowed a bit at her words, calming the barest bit as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Ever so slowly, she shifted, crawling out on her hands and knees, looking down the hall to make sure no one was around. “Thank you..” She mumbled softly, sitting before her now and giving Giselle a weak smile.

Ellie smiled at her as she emerged, glancing back just in case. “No one followed us,” She added gently. “In case... you wanted to be alone.” Well, she was kind of removing the alone part, but it was for a good purpose. “Are you alright, mistress?” She asked, scanning over her just in case. The young queen had been all too close to the action. “Physically, I mean.” She added softly. Emotionally, the woman looked a little like she needed a hug.

She gave a nod, despite aching in three different places now, hiding her bruised wrist as she turned his gaze downward. “I’m alright.” Genevieve murmured almost silently, one hand going to her mouth as she gnawed her thumb nail uneasily. She just wanted Ronan… She had behaved all night and she still didn’t get it.

Ellie caught her words for the most part, despite the slight distance between them still. She shifted a little, as if to move towards her, though she hesitated after a moment. “Might I?” She asked, not wanting to scare her off.

Genevieve peeked up at her, curls falling from her face as she nodded a little, shifting so she wasn’t so curled in on herself, clearing her throat a bit.

Ellie shifted up on her knees, moving towards the queen carefully, still a little wary of going too suddenly. She settled beside her, reaching out to wrap her up in her arms, drawing her into a gentle hug.

The queen gave a gentle gasp in reply, mind briefly taken from her fears as she hugged her back, hiding in her neck as her shoulders shook with her gentle cries.

Ellie held her a little closer, rubbing her back with gentle fingers and whispering reassurances to her. She was alright, she would be alright... It broke her heart to see the queen like this, and she wanted little more than to be a comfort to her in that moment.

Genevieve didn’t know how long passed before her tears finally subsided, pulling away and wiping her eyes one last time as she thanked her quietly, running a hand gently over Ellie’s long locks with a soft smile.

“It’s my pleasure, ma’am.” Ellie promised her with a smile in return, reaching out a little to find her free hand, squeezing it gently. She hesitated for a moment, and then spoke once more; “Can I ask your name?” She knew her mostly as the queen of Ostwall.

“Genevieve.” She answered gently, “Thank you Ellie..” She murmured again, smiling the best she could at their joined hands. “I’ll be alright.” She promised. A little bit better at least… She still worried about what Ronan would think of her.

“Genevieve?” Ellie repeated, just to make sure that she got it right. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said genuinely, smiling at her repeated thank you. “Anytime. Really,” She assured her. She was happy to help. “Could I walk you back to your quarters?” She asked.

She nodded almost too emphatically at that, slowly standing on her wobbly legs, grabbing the table for support and squeezing Ellie’s hand to assure her she was alright.

ImageEllie stood up a little quicker, wrapping her free arm around her waist to help support her. “I’d offer to carry you, but I think I might drop you,” She teased a little, giving her a half hug. She shifted a little, taking at least some of Genevieve’s weight onto her as she found Giselle’s hand and moved towards the door.

Genevieve giggled a bit, smiling and leaning on her shoulder a bit, one hand brushing over her abdomen as she glanced down at it uneasily. Would he really be upset with her? Maybe… she was imagining things. But her father always got upset when she did things like this, why wouldn’t Ronan too? Or even worse, how would Ulfric react?

Ellie frowned a little at her actions, shifting to gather her a little closer. “What is it?” She asked softly, looking to her before taking any more steps forward.

The brunette lifted her gaze, vaguely confused as she shook her head. “Nothing.” She promised quietly, squeezing her hand and smiling a little, remaining quiet as they neared her room, hoping that Ulfric wasn’t there already.

Ellie paused before the door, wrapping Genevieve up in a tight hug. “If you find you can’t sleep, my room’s upstairs and to the right, the second door.” She told her, pressing a brief kiss to the top of her head. “If there’s any way I can help, let me know.” She requested, pulling back a little and putting her hands on her shoulders, offering her a smile. “It really was wonderful meeting you.”

Genevieve smiled and nodded, hugging her near and resting her chin on her shoulder as she whispered her thanks one last time before departing inside, thankfully alone. She sighed, dropping heavily onto the bed as she scrubbed her eyes and stripped herself down before crying herself to sleep.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Cedany Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Adelaide Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Theran Ulfricson
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His son had fled the hall before Ulfric could follow him, and now it seemed that the rest of the party was dispersing, leaving him to watch as Hans was pulled off. He wondered if the man would make it through the night - Ronan had given him one hell of a beating. Ulfric looked about now, and his gaze fell upon Genevieve. The poor girl trembled and sobbed, but he didn't realize why. Instead, he assumed she was frightened by the whole affair, and silently, he resolved to speak to Ronan about it.

"Genevieve..." he said softly, reaching out now to touch her arm. But she screeched and ran off, and he recoiled for a moment, frowning to himself. If he'd been more attentive, kept an eye out for Ronan, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. But it was far too late for that. He'd let his guard down, and the whole thing had gone to shit. And people wondered why he hated these events.

Ulfric gathered himself in a mental sense and moved across the hall to Adelaide and Theran. Cedany had already run off after Ronan, and he made a mental note to check in with his youngest, ensure she'd made it back to her room. He stopped a few paces away from his middle children, still frowning in a dejected manner. "You two shouldn't have had to see that," he remarked, biting his tongue for a moment as he thought to himself. "I shouldn't have you two walk alone either...come on."

Their family had been placed in the same hall, which was both a blessing and a misfortune. It was easy for them for find each other, but just as easy for others to find them. Walking back to the room was more unnerving than he'd hoped, and Ulfric checked over his shoulder with every step he took. Each creak in the walls was one of Hans's men following them, and the flickering of shadows on the wall became someone waiting to make him pay for not having stepped in earlier.

But they arrived soon enough, and he was quick to send his children to their rooms - Adelaide with a kiss on the forehead, and Theran with a clasped hand on the shoulder. And then he walked to Cedany's room and knocked gently before poking his head into the room.

"Sleep well, little one," he half-spoke, half-croaked. His nerves were getting the best of him now. He'd never feared like this on the battlefield, but now he was an old man who would stand no chance if he were stabbed in the back. Ulfric removed himself before Cedany could reply - he couldn't bear to speak anymore.

For a moment, he considered speaking to Ronan, but he couldn't do it now. No, his son had to prepare himself for the tournament - it wasn't in Ronan's nature to forfeit. And so he entered his bedroom now and glanced about after he'd locked the door and left the key on the bureau. He jumped as Genevieve stirred in their bed, but he kept himself quiet as he undressed and eased into bed.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. For a moment, he considered reaching out to brush her hair back or to kiss her. Something. But in the end, he turned on to his side and sighed. Only then did he remember what Loras had said, and he pressed his eyes shut. How he wished he could go back and speak more to the Captain - he hadn't felt that happy in years.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Juliana Auclair Character Portrait: Eleora de Croismare Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Cyprian Auclair
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There was an obvious downside to holding a joust in the middle of the day. The heat was nearly unbearable in Seabel by the time the riders had begun to mount. Cyprian shifted on his horse and wiped at his forehead, but the glove did little to remove the moisture that had built up. He had been up for hours, bathing, eating, and preparing himself for the joust. It had been a while since he'd ridden, but he had insisted upon it. Next time the celebration came around, he'd be forty-one. Gods willing, he would still ride, but he didn't want to count on it. Who knew where they would be in ten years.
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"Are the mountains cold this time of year, boy?" he inquired, turning his mare so that he could face his opponents.

Ronan looked up from his hand slowly, frowning at the king. His hand still ached like hell, and so he'd kept Cedany's improvised binding on it, hoping that the thing would get him through this joust.

"I believe the mountains are cold any time of year to a man from these parts," he countered, gesturing about with his broken hand. Cyprian chuffed softly in laughter. He had begun to circle slowly on his horse, readying her for their ride. Ronan's stallion, meanwhile, had taken to stomping in the dirt, tossing his head eagerly as though he knew what his rider had in mind for them.

"Yes, I suppose." Cy held a finger out, as though requesting Ronan to put his thoughts on hold as he called over a flagon-carrying squire. In a quick movement, he tipped his head back and downed a few mouthfuls of the sweet wine within. After, he held it out to Ronan who took his own drink, gulping more as though it were some sort of competition.
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The herald beckoned them soon after their silent exchange, and Cyprian received his helmet from another squire. "Best of luck to you," Cyprian called as he kicked his horse and took off towards the stands. Ronan pursed his lips, off-put by his opponent's swift departure. He shouldn't have taken it personally, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. And so he received his own helmet from some chieftain's son his father had taken with them. And then he hurried off after Cyprian, meeting the man in the center.

The two knights nodded to their kings and queens respectfully. Ronan found Genevieve quickly, and he swallowed anxiously. They would have to speak after he rode. He needed to tell her everything, justify himself for the night before. Cyprian sought out Juliana's gaze for a moment, and once he'd found it, he made a quick, mock bow in her direction. He prayed she took it playfully, but it came bitter-sweetly to him. As he turned to his end of the range, he looked for Ellie. He hoped she was watching, for although he couldn't tell her, he knew he was riding for her. And he hoped she knew that too.

The two men had placed themselves at either side of the range, aimed to race at each other. They waited, and a soft hush had fallen over the crowds. Christoph and Corinna had ceased their argument to watch - Cora because she worried for her brother, and Christoph because he had placed a large bet on Cyprian Auclair.

When the horn sounded, the two stormed at each other, a flurry of limbs and metal hurtling down the range. Ronan's lance chanced to move just a bit to the right, and it caught with Cyprian's shield, nearly knocking the lighter man off of his saddle. The king exhaled sharply as he rounded the corner, regaining his composure while, at the other end, Ronan struggled to keep his horse under control while he dealt with the unwieldy lance.

And then they were at it again, but Cyprian was ready for Ronan now, and he predicted that Ronan would go for the same maneuver - which he did. His lance was raised ever so slightly, and it was just enough that the lance bypassed Ronan's shield and hit him in the shoulder. The wood protested under the pressure, but it did not splinter, and though Ronan gasped out loud, it did not pierce his armor. Instead, it pushed him sharply enough that he fell from his saddle and smacked the dirt, sending up a soft puff of dust as he landed on his back.

The prince remained where he was for a moment, far too embarrassed to stand. Cy rounded once more, taking a victory lap of sorts past the spectators before he returned to his tent where he'd remove his armor and recover for the next round he'd have to ride. By that time, Cyprian's men had moved across the field to assess Ronan's injuries, but he stood quickly and pushed past, walking off of the field and away from the festivities.
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From where he sat in the stands, Ulfric couldn't help but frown to himself. He hadn't wanted to be here either - his joints still ached from the night before, and his head throbbed. Sleep had not come to him, no matter how hard he had tried, and so he drank casually at a goblet of some sort of southern ale that had been presented to him. He hated the taste - it was too sweet and fruity for a man who had not even seen such things until he had taken the throne.

This was not his world, and oh, how he hated to be a part of it. If he had been a younger, more capable man, he would have ridden, but fate had not been kind to him, and so he was confined to a seat beside a woman who did not love him and children who would not acknowledge him while his son - his eldest, he should have been his dearest - stalked away, creating quite a stir through the spectators.

He yearned for someone to speak with, and his mind went to Loras once more. Gods, he wished once more he had not missed their meeting. He had to be here somewhere though, protecting Seabel's royals, right? Perhaps they still had time. Perhaps fortune would smile on him for the first time in quite a while.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Cedany Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Adelaide Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Theran Ulfricson
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Genevieve had been silent most of the morning, avoiding Ulfric's gaze at every opportunity, trying her very hardest to not appear rude. Truly, she knew he hadn't sent Hans over on purpose... But he had been stalking her all night and his mere presence had drawn her father over. She greeted her stepchildren weakly when they rose, noticing the lack of her beloved among them and fearing it was because of her, that she truly had ruined everything for good.

And then she remembered the tournament was today, and she wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

So here the Queen of Ostwall sat, rigid beside her husband, having not spoken a word since last night. That was what you did when something went wrong. You shut up and ignore it, act like it never happened until things went back to normal. So that's what she did. Her stomach churned uneasily as she watched Ronan canter about before they started, almost flinching when their eyes met and instantly tensing when they took their positions. She was half tempted to clutch Ulfric's hand, just for some comfort. But Cedany sat beside her, she offered her a little smile, squeezing her hand lightly and then gripping her own seat in anticipation, calmed by her touch even if a little.

And of course he fell. She knew he would, but that didn't stop her from gasping sharply, jumping in her seat and forcing herself to remain seated in that moment at least. Her heart slammed against her rib cage, lips parting dumbly over and over as she tried to find her words.

"I'll go check on him." Genevieve managed to splutter finally as he stormed off. She stood, kissing Ulfric's temple and smiling nervously at her stepchildren before heading off, doing a shockingly good job at keeping her pace reasonable. Her legs shook horribly the closer she got, lip wobbling as she struggled to keep her composure, breaking into a run when they were both out of sight and sobbing his name.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Cedany Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Cedany's day started earlier than the others, but not for lack of trying. Back home, Cedany used to spend her mornings outside of the castle. Here, it's too dangerous to wander so far from the castle, disguised or not. So, while her internal clock told her it was time to move, her exhaustion from the night before and the want to actually sleep in for once kept her in bed. But not for long.

Giving up on the idea of sleep, she climbed out of bed and prepared herself for the day. Jousting would be happening today between the males of the kingdoms. Cedany rolled her eyes at the thought that men showed dominance by poking each other with sticks while riding horses. Cedany would rather just ride her own horse without the sticks. She'd easily outrace them. Especially on her own horse, Morrighan. Now that's a competition she could get behind. She looked through the wardrobe for an outfit that wasn't too dressy, but also not too casual for the event. She would still be watched by members of all three courts and still needed to be lady like even if she missed her trousers.

A spot of color caught her eye and she grinned. The dress from the islands. It was perfect. She changed quickly and pulled her back and piled it to the top of her head, pinning it in place with decorate hair sticks, also from the islands. To add more flare to her look, she adorned her wrists with as many jeweled bracelets that she had brought with her. When she was satisfied, she left to wander the halls. That, of course, grew boring with many people asleep, so she made her way to the kitchens for a treat. She used her charm to acquire some delicious pastries for breakfast. She nibbled on them as she made her way to where the jousting event was being set up and watched. It was a bit dull, but it was better than spending the morning in her room.

Hours passed and the others began to join her outside. To her easily concealed horror, Ronan would be jousting first. And his opponent is the much older, more experienced Cyprian Auclair. She preyed his hand would hold out. She cheered, loudly for her brother gaining some unwelcome looks from the members of the other courts, but she didn't care. She hoped her cheering would give him an extra boost of confidence. She was wrong. Once Ronan stalked off, which didn't surprise Cedany in the least, she took off to find him.

It didn't take long. When she found him, she rushed to his side. "Ro, are you alright? She looked him over, but her main concern was his hand. She gently took his arm in her hands and lifted it so she could take ahold of his hand without hurting him. She had just bent her head and began to unwrap her "bandages" when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned quickly to find Genevieve walking towards them. Cedany took one look at her brother and knew what she had to do. She gave his hand a quick kiss, and winked at him. Her eyes wished him luck. She raced up to her stepmother and gave her a quick hug, a big smile, and a greeting of, "Genni--uh--Mother. Good morning. I must get back to the others." She let go and raced off. She did indeed join the others, but she watched for others that might find the two lovers together. She hoped she would be able to stop them in time.


[[Scarlet, I hope the island dress thing was okay. I tried to have it match the picture and it's such an odd dress that the only excuse I could think that she would have it would be from a land not heavily influenced by her own culture. Like an island.]]

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ronan Ulfricson Character Portrait: Cedany Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Ulfric Bjornson Character Portrait: Genevieve Hansdottir Character Portrait: Adelaide Ulfricdottir Character Portrait: Theran Ulfricson
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The morning air had a lingering feeling of excitement from the night before, but it might have had to something to do with the tournament that afternoon. Only Adelaide knew that for her family it wasn’t the jousting. The fight from the night before still likely sung in the veins. Masks did little good protecting identity when everyone knew that Ostwall was so backwards and well uncivilized compared to them. What made them a force was what they had seen when Ronan got into it.

Addy shook her head as she dressed preparing for the day. It was going to be interesting to say the least. And now she was back into something more comfortable. Sure she was still forced to wear a dress, but this one was comparably much simpler than the one the night before. Still she would have rather not been in a dress, but there were standards to uphold. She could hear it now and imagined it was the same for her younger sister only much worse.

Everything seemed to fly by in a blur as she moved from one thing to another and it didn’t take too long before they were out in the heat awaiting the jousting. The young woman worried for her brother. She hadn’t seen him since he stormed off after the fight. There had been no need with Ced and their step mother going after him at various points of the night and morning. They had everything covered. Had something been really wrong someone would have said something she was sure, but she didn’t know how he was going to fair on horseback. The fight had been brutal. He’d hurt himself it seemed almost as bad as he had his opponent. Addy was sure that her father was in no better shape than his son especially at his old age.

Glancing in Ulfric’s direction she took stock of his movements and nodded to herself. She was sure she saw wincing here and there. He should have stayed out of it were her thoughts as she shook her head turning back to where the joust was getting ready to take place. Cedany was cheering wildly for their older brother and Adelaide couldn’t help but smile. Her sister cared little for everyone else’s etiquette. She loved her sister for it too.

But it didn’t help watching their brother get knocked from his saddle any easier. She felt herself wincing knowing how much that hurt on a normal basis without someone shoving a lance into a chest plate before hitting the ground. As he slunk off both their step mother and Cedany were off again and she only shook her head. Another time she could just sit here and wait for a verdict about her brother. He certainly didn’t need three women fawning over him. With a sigh, she shook her head and turned back to the matches wishing this was over already.



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If there was one thing Theran Ulfricson was glad of was that he wasn’t competing in the jousting. He would gladly let his half-brother take it whole heartedly. Though he wasn’t quite sure how his brother was surviving to be quite honest. The fight the night prior had been bad. Ronan was lucky their father had jumped in when he did. Though he had wanted to do that himself, but he knew he likely wouldn’t have broken up the fight. He would have helped his brother and only made the situation worse.

So here he sat just behind his family watching their brother lose with less than dignity. He couldn’t be blamed really. His opponent wasn’t someone most people their age would be able to best let alone while injured. As he watched his older brother walk off and their step mother and Cedany run after him he nodded. Well taken care of he was going to be. Ulfric never got that kind of treatment. Unless it was by him or out of duty by the others. Shame really. Sometimes he thought he was the only one who really saw that the man was trying; he just… didn’t know how to try. Why else would a man as hard and distant as Ulfric take him in when his mother had cast him out only to not care about his children? It made no sense to him.

Theran shook his head to rid himself of the negative thoughts and continued to watch the matches. Everyone seemed to be quite good which would make things interesting. Would they get more than just jousting? If so then maybe he would try his hand, at something that wouldn’t make a worse fool of himself than Ronan had done only a few minutes prior.