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Brynjar Augustus

"I will not yield. I am the king!"

0 · 1,644 views · located in Europa

a character in “The Prince and the Shieldmaiden”, as played by Sirius Baren

Description




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__Brynjar __Augustus__
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{ Q U O T E }

"I will come, I will see, and I will conquer."
-Quote


{ T H E M E S }

[url]Song Name|Artist[/url]

[url]Song Name|Artist[/url]





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__I___A M___W H O___I___A M__
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Name: Brynjar Augustus (Brynjar meaning "Warrior in Armor")
Title/or Moniker: Brynjar the Bear
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Species: Human
Class/Occupation: Crown Prince of Byrdain, Warrior
Description:.
Brynjar is a rather tall and imposing man. He is 6'4" and towers over many people. Through years of training and fighting his body is as solid as a rock. Even though he is large there is a certain grace about him that can only be described as kingly. He has light hair and keeps his beard well trimmed. He has deep cerulean eyes that are often steely and cold. The few lines on his face have come from scowling or the frowns that are ever present whenever in the company of Lelinus. He is often found wearing his armor as he practices combat frequently, but when he isn't strapped in his metal, he is typically wearing shades of red or green. He has a thick gold band that he wears on his left index finger with the Augustus family seal upon it.



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__W H A T___I S___H I D D E N___W I T H I N__
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Likes: War
Politics
Hand to hand combat
His great warhorse Goliath
Seducing women
Meddling in others affairs
Bringing Lelinus misery
War
Riding into battle

Dislikes: Stupidity
Lelinus
Those he deems below his station
Those who appear to be weak
Reading
Courting
Humility
Compassion

Strengths:
Charisma
Charm
Sword fighting
Hand to hand combat
Strategy
Manipulation

Weaknesses:
Cannot see the value in others who do not appear to have brute strength
His emotions
A beautiful woman
Pride

Personality:.
Brynjar is a stubborn, calculating, and devious man. While it is obvious his sheer force and strength of body, many people underestimate the mind behind the man. He is cunning and patient. He plans far in advance and often can manipulate others to carry out his wishes without others ever knowing he had a hand in the issue. He does have a hot temper and sometimes gets carried away with it. As the crown prince he has had a great deal of responsibility on his shoulders from infancy. This has led to an inflated ego and sense of self-importance. There are very few people he views as equals. As a young boy he learned quickly that wearing his emotions upon his sleeve would only bring about his downfall. He is a cold man who finds great pleasure in the misery of others. He refuses to be controlled by his emotions and therefore keeps them locked away.

Quirks and Habits:
Whenever he is devising a plan, the corner of his mouth always turns up in anticipation of what he is thinking. He will sing to Goliath every time he rubs him down.




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__H O W___I___C A M E___T O__B E__
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Land/Kingdom: Byrdain
History:.
At the time of his birth, Brynjar was born during a great harvest. It was viewed that his birth was a good omen and that one day he would be a great ruler bringing nothing but prosperity and peace. Even at a young age it became clear that this boy was born for war. He had been a healthy and robust child and from the earliest age, he had put a wooden sword in his hand.

When Lelinus was born, Brynjar was excited to have a younger brother. He wanted a comrade in arms to go off adventuring through the castle and the adjoining lands. He was sorely disappointed to learn that Lelinus was a sickly babe and would never have the strength or prowess that came natural to him.

Brynjar continued to train and become a great warrior. It wasn’t too long before he was joining his father’s army to go patrol the borders and fight back against Fjellborg’s berserker’s who were raiding the edges of their land. In his patrols Brynjar met and fell in love with a beautiful young maiden named Eira. He had never met anyone so beautiful in his life. The two had a whirlwind romance and Brynjar was convinced that he would marry her despite her low birth status. He didn't care. Any chance he had to go on patrol he took it. He would bring her small gifts and dote on her in the best way he knew how. To him she was perfect.

It was a particularly hot summer that he was making the typical rounds along the border when there had been smoke coming from her village. The berserkers had come. Brynjar arrived just in time to watch a shimmering blade dig into the soft and white flesh of Eira's throat. Never before had Brynjar felt such rage. The only survivor of the horrible massacre was that of Katinka who was them brought to live at the castle.

After having seen so much death that day, and losing Eira, Brynjar hardened his heart. The pain was too great having watched her die at the hand of the berserkers. He vowed to never fall at their hands and make them pay as well as never fall in love again. The pain was too great.

As Lelinus grew and his mind was quickly discovered as great value, jealousy began to stir in Brynjar’s heart. For the majority of his life he had been the apple of his father’s eye. All Brynjar ever wanted to do was please his father and one day become king. His jealousy turned to hate and Brynjar soon came to despise his brother to the deepest circle of hell. How could such a sick man be valued in a council of warriors? Brynjar was disgusted with his brother.

Despite hating Lelinus and viewing those around him beneath his notice, Brynjar did come to find comfortable companionship in Katinka. Brynjar was a cold and hard man by the time Katinka had blossomed into a beautiful flirt. Women were always petty things that he was more than willing to use and cast aside. He appreciated them for their ability in the bedroom but did not hold them in any esteem past that.

Katinka was different. It was probably because she great up around him, and despite being a flirt, Brynjar found that he enjoyed conversing with her. She was a bit of fresh air when standing next to his endless line of conquests, but at the end of the day she was just a silly noblewoman who only had true skill in sweet talking her way through the court.

Brynjar was disturbed when the berserkers were prepared for peace. Even though it had been nearly a decade and a half since he had lost Eira, he was determined to make them pay. His disdain for the Fjellborg people rivaled that of his contempt for his brother. Brynjar was not prepared to marry Ingrid, the Shieldmaiden. He knew that his father would push for peace through marriage. Before the idea could be planted, he suggested that Lelinus be betrothed to the warrior woman. It would kill two birds with one stone and he could continue to connive a way that he might bring destruction to the berserkers.

So begins...

Brynjar Augustus's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Beorn Clovermaen Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus
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There was a quiet moment, the king watching her, her watching him, her hand firmly on his chest. It felt like forever before he spoke. "Very Well." He said and finally gave her space. She let go of the breath she didn't know she was holding, and maybe her way out of his chambers, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the door a moment, to catch her breath.

She survived it, the first meeting. She wasn't sure how she did it, but he seemed to actually like her brashness, which -in itself- wasn't a bad thing, but he seemed to like it in a way that made her feel like he hoped to see more of it, so there would be more tests his boundaries to come. She wasn't looking forward to it. Not one bit.


She made her way to Brother Beron, because honestly she had no idea where anything was in this place, only to end up completely turned around. She looked for the apple tree, but found herself outside instead. This was not good, she could not afford to be late with his breakfast. His amusement could only go so far, on the first day.

She found herself in the courtyard, and she could hear a few people talking so she headed their way and to her surprise and even a bit of luck, she found Brother Beorn with the Prince.

"Pardonnez-moi , Votre Grâce , je suis devenu perdu , il semble." She said and shook her head. "Ah, Good Morning, Your Grace, Brother Beron, Forgive me, I am in a bit of a panic, I've gotten lost, and I do not wish to be late getting your brother his breakfast." She said with a nervous smile. "He's accepted employment, so I wish to make a good impression." She told them, and honestly she couldn't say why, perhaps it was her nerves from the exchange with the king.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Beorn Clovermaen Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Katinka Dragomir
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"Even the strongest of warriors has to sleep," the lady persisted. While she had no doubt in Brynjar's abilities, it didn't stop her from worrying. She kept imagining some dark figure disabling the guards before they knew what hit them, and sneaking in to slay the crown prince in his bed. This was not a possibility she was ready to allow, even for the sake of his pride. It was too dreadful a thought. Her spirits were lifted, though, when he conceded to having extra tasters. "It will," she assured him, almost able to smile just then with how relieved she felt knowing he'd at least be careful not to be poisoned the way she was so sure Artos had been. "Thank you."

Katinka hummed solemnly as the prince continued to speak. "Listen to you.." She spoke softly and met his eyes as her hand moved to cover the back of his. She truly must have been blind when it came to this man. "As much as he was a guardian to me, our ties were little compared to yours. You do not need to comfort me, it is you who have lost your father. You have my condolences." For a moment, she shook, but then she lifted her other hand so that she was holding one of Brynjar's between both of hers, and she steadied. "You are... the strongest man I know, in so many ways." She stopped herself there, not wanting to become too emotional in front of him, so as not to add to his burden. After a deep breath, she pat the back of his hand gently and stood to leave. Before she got far, however, her eyes returned to the crown prince's face. "I know you have a lot to take care of, and I won't get in your way. If you need anything- respite or assistance, anything at all- I'll be here." The corners of her lips turned up briefly. "You are going to be a great King, Brynjar." With that she bowed her head slightly and finally turned away. She replaced her veil when she reached the door, then left the room.

Lady Katinka spent the rest of the day and much of the evening mingling with the other nobles. As usual, she listened in on all interesting conversations, although her flirtations were on hold for the period of mourning. Throughout the hours, she was plagued with a feeling of foreboding, an anxiousness that turned her stomach; she pushed this off, however, with the knowledge that whatever plots were hidden in the underbelly of court, she would find them. She steeled herself with determination, and used her worries plus the anger beneath them as fuel for her watchful eyes.

The next morning, her breakfast was delivered to her chambers, but it went cold on her table untouched. She had uncovered very little of use thus far, and while this was to be expected with something as sneaky as the successful assassination of a king, Katinka was impatient as ever. It occurred to her, too, that as the ward of a dead King her life was now up in the air. Her family's lands, riches, and title were still tied to her, but as a woman she was not in a position to own it all herself. She could hardly imagine herself as Brynjar's charge once he became king. She would likely be married off soon, made a nobleman's wife with the bulk of her family's property as her dowry, and what little freedom she had would be forfeited. This realization did nothing to calm her nerves, and had her itching for a way to vent.

The sun had hardly made it over the tops of the trees when she left the castle to wander the grounds; although wander might have been too gentle a word, considering the way she stormed about. Eventually she found herself at the training yards, where some knights were practicing. She was without a veil now, but still clad in heavy black fabrics that made the sunlight feel like fire on her skin. "May I?" she spoke up as she approached them, gesturing to a bow that had been set aside in favor of a sword. She recognized the gaits of at least half the men, so for the time being she didn't bother acting. Once given permission, she lifted the borrowed bow and positioned the arrow with obvious experience behind her every move. Each shot she let loose sunk into the target, although she purposely avoided the direct center a few times when she saw some of the less familiar men eyeing her. By the time she notice a far more familiar figure in the distance, her frustration had been chipped away enough that she managed a smile when returning the weapon to its rightful owner and her eyes lingered on the sparring figures to her left before she departed.

The lady gathered up her skirts as she made her way across the grounds, toward Lelinus's position in the courtyard. With the heat and the sheer magnitude of her skirts, it took a while for her to reach her destination, which irritated her some but she was so glad to see the prince without his bride that it hardly mattered. She arrived just in time to hear the tail end of Evangelina's assessment, which paired with the handmaiden's foreign appearance was more than enough to pique Katinka's curiosity. "Leo," she called in greeting, despite her approach being quite apparent long before she'd reached their small group. "I missed you yesterday. How are you faring?" Her attention might have stayed on Evangelina longer, not to mention the dynamic between this foreign woman and Brother Beorn, had the Lady not been so very worried about the Prince since the wedding.

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Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus
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The following days were a busy time for Brynjar. Between the funeral preparations, the coronation, and the coronation festivities, he was kept quite busy. Evangelina was proving to be a hard worker and a bit of a fire cracker. She was always respectful and held her place whenever there were eyes about, but any time they were alone she wasn't afraid to give him a piece of her mind whenever he went to far with his advances.

There wasn't much time for Brynjar to do much in way of Lelinus and Ingrid, or even Tyr--who he had learned was going to be staying for a while even after the coronation. Brynar was eager to get things moving along. He was starting to feel restless and antsy. For anyone that saw him he played the part of a grieving son well. He had the people on his side, and the whispers through court had the majority on his side as well. There were only a few who expressed their displeasure with how things were moving.

The morning of the funeral was a grim. The clouds had rolled in and were threatening to release a flood upon their heads. The mood was sober among everyone in the castle. Artos had truly been a great king and an even greater man. It didn't matter that he was old and would've likely died soon anyway. It was a horrible tragedy and the rumors of a Fjellborg poisoning the king were still circulating.

Brynjar was awake and out of his bed before Evangelina had come to help him prepare for the day. He had a dark and brooding look upon his face. Today was going to be a very long day for him. There were going to be many faces upon him and he had to keep the act going. He did take a moment to let the sadness wash through him. He could remember a time when he had idolized his father. As a young boy he thought that there wasn't any man stronger or greater than his father.

He moved over to one of the great windows in his room. He stared at the dark and circulating clouds. It was fitting for such a terrible day. He frowned as he thought about Lelinus and Ingrid. His hope in turning the warrior princess upon his frail brother was seeming to back fire on him. He wasn't sure what to do at this point to come between them. They hadn't had much time to get to know one another, and yet it seemed that there was a possibility of love to spring between them. That was a variable he had never considered. They were quite the opposite. Brynjar was gravely disappointed that he was going to have to tweak his plans for them.

It didn't matter. Fjellborg would fall either way. After all, he had the crown prince within his clutches for the time being.

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Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus
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There was an thickness in the air, as Evaneglina made her way to the Prince's chambers, she could feel it. There was a storm brewing, figuratively, and literally. The court was unsteady, Princess' people would quietly being blamed for the King's death, poisoned, it seemed. She didn't know what to make of it. The Princess seemed strong, too strong to use poison, and too smart to be caught. If the princess or her people had anything to do with it surely, they would have said so. Coyness did not suit them.

With his meal in her hands, she let herself in, usually he'd been sleeping before she arrived. She learned to get herself up and hour or so early, just in case she got lost, which for a while, that was the case, but thankfully, Brother Beorn had been helping her get her barrings as well as teaching her to read in Common Tongue. He always greeted her with a smile, and saw her off with one, it made the evening a little brighter, offsetting the gloom that the palace had hovering around it.

"Oh, You're Grace, Good, you're awake." She said with a smile, as she set down his tray of sweet meats, fresh juice, berries, and soft toast. She hadn't expected him to be awake, not that he was a late riser, she just made herself an early one. She noted how dark his eyes were this morning, he didn't seem to be in the mood for the games he liked to play. She'd gotten use to that, much more quickly then even she anticipated. He never touched her, but nor did he give her a respectable distance. His eyes were never shy either. Even now, dressed in a black gown made in the style of her people, her midriff bare for him to see, he would have watched her move. So long as he never touched her, she could handle that, but today, was different, today he was in his own mind, and while she appreciated that his mind was elsewhere, she knew where it was. Today was his father's funeral, her friend's funeral.

For her people, it would have been a somewhat joyous occasion, a celebration of the life, not a depression of his death. Her people weren't allowed tears, only smiles, so this was new to her, even her own families death was not this sad, despite how empty she felt after, the celebration of their life was one of happy memories, the sadness came later, after the celebration, and the realization came.

She went straight to his wardrobe and found a dark doublet, extricate embroidery of his family's sigil in dark thread. Her fingers could not help but dust over the work. Turning to him, she watched his face for a moment. "You're Grace." She called and sighed. "For my people, this ceremony, is to celebrate the life of the person who passed, the good times, the smiles, the laughs, I did not your father long, but even I have those memories, smiles and laughs. Try to remember them, sometimes, it is all we have." She said, and that was all she was going to say. She was over trying not to overstep, she wasn't being disrespectful in anyway, she was speaking from the heart, and King Atlos was her friend. lowborn or not, it was still her place, her right to speak highly of a friend.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus
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Evangelina appeared carrying a silver tray full of the breakfast foods that Brynjar preferred. He glanced at them for a brief moment before looking back out into the stormy day. He heard her open up his wardrobe to find the clothing that would be appropriate for the funeral that day. He moved from the window and shirked out of his night clothes leaving him to stand bare chested before her. He had his eyes trained on her as she spoke, but he made no move to play the games that usually took place when they were in private.

"It is difficult to think of happier times when the day is dark and there has been so much death Evangelina." His voice was uncharacteristically soft. His mind wandered a bit as he remembered a day that had been far darker than this.

Brynjar had been so young when he had fallen in love. He was too young to accept those facts in life and they had scarred him in ways that were impossible to be healed with time. He very rarely let his mind wander over what could have been if the Fjellborg's had not raided that outer village on that day. Yet today he couldn't resist traveling down the avoided path. Would she be standing at his side today if she had lived? Would they have children at this time?

The sadness and longing in his eyes suddenly turned sharp as he reprimanded himself for thinking such thoughts. The mood that stirred within him turned foul and there was a bitterness in his expression. "The funeral procession will be gathering within the hour. Be quick." He snapped as she was helping him dress in his funeral formal attire. He hated thinking about the past, and he loathed thinking about things that could have been but would never be.

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Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus
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Evanelina turned to him as he approached her, his chest bare for her to see. She didn't look long, but she did look, noting a few battle scars. Her eyes went to his as he spoke.

"It is difficult to think of happier times when the day is dark and there has been so much death Evangelina." He told her, his voice softer then she was used to. She helped him in to his undershirt, a dark cotton fabric with belled sleeves, as his mind drifted someplace she could not, nor dare not, tread.

Suddenly, after a moment of silence between them, his eyes that were once filled with sadness, darkened into bitterness.
The funeral procession will be gathering within the hour. Be quick." He snapped and Evangelina looked unimpressed. She helped him into his doublet, but she stopped just before she pulled it over his shoulders. "Don't do that." She told him, her tone firm. "Turn grief into anger then turn it unto me," She said, tugging his doublet over his shoulders, more roughly then what was needed. "Let grief be what it is, otherwise it will never go away." She said, her fingers quickly buttoning his doublet closed. She'd do as he asked, but she wouldn't let him treat her just any old way. He should know this by now.


She turned to the wardrobe again, and found him some dark breeches, and his boots. She pulled the strings on the sides, so that he may get in to more easily. She handed them to him, -with a touch of an attitude- before walking toward the try of food and setting it on the small table out in proper fashion. She poured him a flagon of juice, though surely he would prefer something stronger. She'd seen him drunk once and that was enough for her.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Beorn Clovermaen Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael
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Preparing a body for for burial or cremation was not a glamorous task. There weren't many who volunteered for the task even in the case of important or beloved men and women. Few wanted to come face to face with the empty husks left behind at death. Fewer wanted to take on the task of cleaning said husk. Beorn could never imagine Patriarch Julius stooping to the task for example. Thus, no one questioned him when he volunteered for the task of preparing the body.

The monk frowned as he finished filling a flask of the late king's blood. He held it up to the flickering flame of the torches that lit the chamber the body had been kept within the cathedral. It was almost black. Poison then. He was certain of it. Yet, the color alone was not proof. He would have to find a way to extract it and have the extracted poison verified by a member of the Order or the Guild of Herbalists in town. Artemesia-willing, this would be the start of the path to the king's murderer.

Storing the flask within his a pouch within his robe, he returned to the task of cleaning the body. He only had a few hours to ready it.

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Today was to to be a day of utmost importance. It marked the official end to the reign of King Artos the Great and the start of King Brynjar. The last few days had proven to be busy. Making preparations alongside the future king had given him the chance to measure his character. Brynjar behaved about how he expected him to. He was as vain as ever and took on the mantle of authority admirably enough. In fact, he had a slight suspicion that Brynjar had been looking forward to being king for quite a while.

It was only natural, the Patriarch reasoned. Besides, the crown prince had clearly been grieving. He would need people like Julius in the days to come. With those thoughts in mind, he knocked upon the king's door of the king's chamber. At this hour, he would almost certainly be having breakfast. He frowned slightly at the thought. He disliked the king's handmaiden. She looked at him the way those at court had looked at him for all his life for daring to rise above his station. She of all people should have understood his motives, but she spat on his offer of friendship. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael
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Brynjar gave her a sharp look as she told him to not turn his grief into anger. What else was he supposed to do? Brynjar had known nothing else. His grief was the fuel to his thirst for revenge. He watched her move over to the table. He could sense her displeasure with him. He was about to say something cutting to her, perhaps an insult of sorts, but as he opened his mouth there was a knock upon his door.

He finished assembling his attire before he nodded to Evangelina. "Get the door." His voice was cold and harsh. The wall that Evangelina had slowly been working on the past couple of days was suddenly reinforced. It seemed their relationship had taken five steps forward only to take ten steps backwards.

Brynjar wasn't at all surprised to see Patriarch Julius standing in his doorway once Evangelina opened the door. Brynjar and the holy man had spent a great deal of time together over the past couple of days. There had been so much to arrange and put together. "What did you need Patriarch?" he asked in a more level tone than he had been giving to Evangelina.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael
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Julius said nothing as he stepped through the door, choosing to ignore Evangelina as he stepped into the room and bowed his head. His mournful expression was not altogether artificial. He had loved the old king. He owed everything he had to his favor. However, Julius was too much of a pragmatist to be caught up in mourning for more than a few days. Artos the Great was with the One True God now and those still on earth had to make do.

"Preparations have been made to lay your late father to rest this day and enthrone you this night, Your Highness. I have merely come to offer my congratulations and to inquire about your agenda when you take the throne so that I might prepare the Privy Council to meet your needs," the Patriarch said humbly before adding, "Which, I admit, is difficult at the moment as we are without a Chancellor. Your brother, as Master of Coin, has refused to allow me access to the Realm's overall budget, citing a lack of authority on my part as temporary regent during the ceremonies."

He paused, allowing his words to play on the young prince's paranoia about his brother, "Duke Aethwulf is a favorite among the lesser nobility in both the north and the rest of Byrdain. He is honorable, I'll give him that. And Prince Lelinus would undoubtedly respect him. Still, I have my doubts."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael Character Portrait: Tyr Jorvikson Character Portrait: Katinka Dragomir
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"Thank you Patriarch, you never cease to fulfill your obligations." Brynjar said in a smooth tone as he was ignoring Evangelina at this point. "There is a great deal that needs to be done, and I would like to meet with the council as soon as possible," he paused. "However, I think at the moment everyone needs this time for mourning. We will mourn the loss of my father today, and tonight we will celebrate my coronation. Tomorrow we will turn our attention to important matters of state."

The mention of Duke Aethwulf caused Brynjar's jaw to clench. There were very few in the court that were brave enough to stand up to him. Brynjar knew the words that were whispered behind his back, but Duke Aethwulf was one that was not afraid to stand up to him. Brynjar disliked the duke even more for the kinship he seemed to share with Lelinus. He was one of the last men that Brynjar wanted to see come into more power or prestige. "Certainly, but let us not speak of these matters now." His eyes wandered to Evangelina who had been smart enough to stay silent during this whole exchange.

Trust was not something that Brynjar gave out willingly. He enjoyed the games they played behind closed doors and the dance they seemed to always be spinning around, but that seemed to be as far as Brynjar would interact with her. She was a woman, and his servant nonetheless.

There was a great tolling in the distance from the bell tower. "It's time." Brynjar's eyes seemed to grow more cold and distant. He strapped his sword to his side before he swept from his room.

The funeral procession was a truly somber occasion. It didn't matter what caste of life you found yourself in. Everyone had come to honor the great king. Of course the commoners and servants were not permitted into the great church where his body lay. They had to stay in the streets, but they would have a chance to get one last glimpse of their king when he was taken from the church towards the great cemetery where all the great kings and queens were laid to rest.

Brynjar was at the front of the church where Lelinus and Ingrid were expected to be. The church was full of every important person within the kingdom, as well as the nobility that had come from Fjellborg. The very front was reserved only for those with the bluest blood and highest pedigrees. Brynjar stood with a stone face and gazed upon the well preserved body of his father. He could still feel the slow burn of anger deep in his blood from all the choice Artos had made that Brynjar believed to be the wrong ones. He was ready to exact justice.

His eyes wandered over to Tyr and Jorvikson. There was a woman standing close to Tyr. He watched them for a moment as the memorial service began. There was something between them. He recognized that look. It didn't seem they were fully aware of their own feelings, but a truly pernicious and devilish idea had come to his mind.

Word had filtered around that Tyr would be staying for a time. Now he had the crown prince of Fjellborg within his clutches and a great idea had hatched.

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Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael
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Evangelina waited for the sharp insult that was sure to come as Brynjar glared daggers at her. She rose her chin, bracing for it, but none came, instead there was a knock at the door.

"Get the door." He ordered curtly and Evangelina's eye twitched in defiance and turned to get the door.

There was a moment there, a small moment where an actual relationship could have bloomed but alas, it was for naught.

To make matters worse, when she opened to the door, she was greeted with the disdainful gaze of the Patriarch. She merely rolled her eyes and stepped aside for him to enter.

Oddly enough, Brynjar seemed to be perfectly happy with his company while Evangelina allow her annoyance to fester in silence.

She listened on to the Partiarch and his schemes. The King wasn't even in the grave yet and he was already preparing for things. He should be telling the son of the late king how sorry he was for the lost of his father, not business, today was not the day for such talk.

Evangelina decided she would just do some work, cleaning up the meal he did not eat, and setting out the rest of his clothes.


Soon the funeral was underway and being low born, Evangelina was not allowed inside. She wished she could say goodbye to the only friend she'd had in this continent but instead she thought fondly of his hearty laugh, his gentle wisdom and easy demeanor. She wondered if anyone else got to see that side of him, a side he'd told her once that she'd drew out of people. As much as she thought of just leaving, finding employment elsewhere, she wouldn't. She would stick this out to the bitter end, try for the sake, and on the memory of her friend to better his son.

Even if he made her want to hit him with something heavy.

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael Character Portrait: Tyr Jorvikson Character Portrait: Elska Agir
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Elska felt cold the morning of the funeral. The storm did not help the sense of foreboding she felt. Artos the Great would be laid to rest, and the evening would follow with the coronation of the crown prince Brynjar to King Brynjar. The uneasiness she felt had not abated even when Tyr had reassured her everything would be well. She could feel it in her bones how wrong it was for Tyr to stay, or even Ingrid--though Ingrid had no choice in returning home.

It was unfair and unjust. Elska balled up her fists and for a moment wished she had the prowess and skill of a warrior as Ingrid did. Part of her wanted to hunt Brynjar down and give him a piece of her mind. She wanted to put fear in his soul if he dared try to harm Ingrid or Tyr.

"My lady, are you all right?" her handmaiden asked as she was fixing a dark veil over Elska's elaborate braid crown.

"I'm fine Miriel," her voice sounded tired. Miriel put the finishing touches on Elska before departing. Elska viewed herself in the vanity mirror. She was dressed from head to toe in black. The veil did a good job concealing her face and the only white of her skin exposed were her hands.

She had been shuttled along to the great church where Artos lay with the royalty of Fjellborg. She was surprised to find how well loved Artos had been to his people. She felt a pang in her heart as she remembered Ull and her father's funerals. Many of their slain had not been granted more than an unmarked grave.

She had kept her eyes trained on Brynjar when he had arrived. He exuded confidence and an intimidating strength. He was no man to be trifled with and she suddenly felt foolish for her previous thoughts. She doubted a man such as he could ever feel fear.

There was a dark shadow in his eyes. Elska could not deny that he was a handsome man, and the brooding atmosphere he held only added to his allure.

She shook the thoughts away.

She turned her attention to Tyr who stood to her left. She placed a comforting hand to his arm in a discreet fashion, unaware that Brynjar was eyeing them at this point.

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael Character Portrait: Tyr Jorvikson Character Portrait: Elska Agir
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Lelinus smiled slightly as he felt Ingrid's touch. It was strange how close they had grown to one another over such a short time. It was a weakness and one he knew that his brother would exploit mercilessly, but he couldn't bring himself to harden his heart in that respect. She was not at all what he had been expecting. He had been expecting a cold marriage of convenience and that was if he was lucky. Yet, she was strong, kind, and saw beyond his weak body. He could not put into words how much he appreciated that.

"I fear that whatever lies ahead will not be what either of us are prepared for."

It was storming outside the Cahedral when they entered. The Patriarch was in the center of the room as the nobles shifted about, each preparing for their role. Leo gazed at his father's body as he took his place beside Brynjar, Ingrid's hand in his. This would be the last time he would see him in this life. Artemesia, how could he have died so quickly. He attempted to suppress the tears. It would not do to look weak here.

"We are gathered here," Julius began, "To return the body of our most gracious sovereign, King Artos, to the earth from which he was made..."

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael Character Portrait: Tyr Jorvikson Character Portrait: Elska Agir
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Ingrid stayed close to Lelinus as they made their way to the cathedral. It was a grand building, Ingrid realised, more grand than anything they had in Fjellborg. It loomed over them, quietly dominating the horizon. Had the sky been clear, and the air pleasant, Ingrid might have said it was awe inspiring building that welcomed a person to its walls. But in the dark gloom of the storm that churned the seas, it was imposing, foreboding even. Nothing good could happen in a place like this.

It had rained the day Ull was returned to them, Ingrid remembered with a sharp pang. She remembered when she realised that Ull was not among those who returned, and Tyr's silent withdrawal from her questions. She knew then that Ull had died, but a fragile hope still bloomed that he was merely injured and that the gods would return him to them. Ingrid had never been a crier, her tears did not fall fast or free, but she wept the night Ull was returned to them. Tyr held her close that night. She couldn't remember if she had fallen asleep in his arms or not, but she woke in her bed and found Tyr on the floor in a makeshift bed.

Ingrid scanned the crowd for her brother, suddenly wishing to see him, but he was lost among the crowd of nobility, both Byrdainian and Fjellborgan. Ingrid took her place beside Lelinus, her hand in his as Patriarch Julius began the ceremony. She sensed that Brynjar's attention was not fully on the ceremony. She casually looked over and followed the line of his gaze, all the way over to Tyr. She frowned slightly. Why on earth would Brynjar be that interested in Tyr? She cast the thought to the back of her mind and turned her attention to Lelinus. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes glassy. She knew that look. Ingrid ran her thumb along Lelinus's hand, her attention on the Patriarch.

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Tyr stood at the front of the cathedral, Jorvik on one side, Elska on the other. As a sign respect, they were all dressed in black. In any other situation, Tyr would have laughed at it all. Two enemy nations gathered to mark the passing of the king of one nation. The world had apparently been turned upside down. Whether that be for better or worse remained to be seen.

Tyr was lost in thought when he felt Elska's hand on his arm. He smiled softly at her. At least, he thought, at least no one else would lose loved ones to a petty war. Gudbrand had been a good man. Another needless casualty of war. Tyr sighed. By nightfall, Brynjar would be king and judging by his refusal to have Ingrid as his bride, he was not seeking to be Fjellborg's ally. The work Jorvik and Artos had done to bring peace to the continent stood to be undone in a matter of weeks.

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael Character Portrait: Tyr Jorvikson Character Portrait: Elska Agir
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"...You were husband to Evila Mormont. You were father to Brynjar Augustus. You were father to Lelinus Augustus. Now we leave you to rest in the embrace of our Triune God. May Artemesia give you rest," Julius finished, raising his hands as the coffin was close and carried down the passageway below behind the altar and down to the crips. It was finished. The previous king had been laid to rest.

Lelinus felt cold as the procession made its way down the streets. Servants trailed behind noblemen and ladies with umbrellas lest their fine clothes were ruined by the rain. He felt Ingrid's hand gripped in his and he squeezed it as much to comfort himself as to feel something warm in the cold. He watched his brother beside him. What was he thinking? Had it truly dawned on him that their father was dead. He knew his brother. He hadn't been sad today. It was an act.

When they reached the palace, the crown already sat upon it and with a flourish, Julius picked it up to crown the new king as he sat there.

"Now, we are to crown the new king," the Patriarch stated solemnly before proceeding to speak directly to Brynjar, "Do you vow to rule with justice? To never act with selfish motive? Do you vow to defend your people? To fight until your last blood? Do you vow to love the people? To see them as the flesh of your flesh?"

When they finished, Brynjar would make a speech and they would be expected to pledge their allegiance to him. Leo wasn't looking forward to it.

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael Character Portrait: Tyr Jorvikson Character Portrait: Elska Agir
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Brynjar stared at his father's body as Julius finished the ceremony for their dead king. The body was taken away and would never be brought to light again. His mind was full of a great many thoughts that were running into each other. He couldn't make sense of them and he didn't try. He felt angry and bitter with his father for becoming so weak. He still couldn't understand the reasoning Artos had for submitting to a truce. They could've stamped the whole lot of Fjellborgan's out if they had only fought a little longer. Never again would they have to deal with raids or unjust deaths.

He left the church alongside Lelinus and Ingrid. The nobility of both countries were following behind the last two members of the house of Augustus.

The palace was hushed as the procession arrived and came into the thrown room. Brynjar strode forward with confidence and pride in his step as he moved to accept the crown he had been born to bear.

Julius' words were clear and carried through the quiet room. Brynjar bowed his head. "I vow with my body and spirit to fulfill all that is expected of me, and to fulfill the tasks laid at my feet." He spoke the traditional words before the crown was set upon his head.

The metal wasn't an ornamental piece. It was neither large or heavy. It was a thin and sturdy crown, but as Brynjar felt the weight upon his head, he felt an even greater weight fall to his shoulders. This was it. He was here. After years of disagreeing with his father's choices it was now Brynjar's turn to rule.

"Today belongs to the people." He turned from Julius and looked into the crowd of nobles that were assembled to witness his kingship. "We have laid our beloved king to return to Artemesia and bask in the glory of our ancestors." His voice was strong. "We bring in a new age of peace and it is my duty to protect you. I will guard my people with my life and protect their liberties." He glanced over to the Fjellborg party and then brought his eyes to where Lelinus and Ingrid stood.

"Tonight we feast in honor of all of our dead and their sacrifices. Tomorrow will be a new dawn and a new day." He ended his speech and the crowd bowed low in acknowledgement of his new title.

Brynjar reveled in the moment even though it felt more hollow than he had expected it to. He stepped down from the throne dias and came towards the crowd. Some of the Byrdain courtiers approached to give their condolences for his father's death and others came to pay respect to their new king. Once the pleasantries were over they would move to the great hall where they would feast, drink, and dance into the early hours of the morning.

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael Character Portrait: Elska Agir
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Lelinus listened to his brother's speech thoughtfully, his eyes upon his brother's. He did not fail to notice the way his brother looked at the Fjellborgans. It was as he suspected, his brother was not the type to let go of a grudge and he always hated the Northmen. Still, he needed cause to break the treaty and he doubted Brynjar would find it today. Still, he needed to keep his eye on him.

He followed after his brother as protocol dictated. Few greeted him. The rivalry between himself and Brynjar was well-known and no one wanted to risk the future king's wrath. As they walked, he turned to Brynjar with a smile.

"That was a lovely speech, brother. I am sure with my union with Ingrid, peace will be assured for our time. Father would have wanted to see the kingdom rebuild."

Of course, he knew that it would irk him, but he knew that his brother couldn't exactly contradict his wish. Even kings had limits on their power.

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Beorn Clovermaen Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael Character Portrait: Elska Agir
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Truthfully, Beorn did not feel comfortable in a great hall with feasting lords and tittering ladies. He was not Julius. He did not seek to use his talents to amass power and influence as the good Patriarch had. Many Royal Herbalists may have become courtiers in the past and gained titles and land through friendship with the king, but somehow, Beorn doubted that Brynjar would be as kindly disposed towards him. He understood why Leo placed him here. It was one of the few ways he could get under his brother's skin now that his word was law and it did show Beorn how much the prince valued him. Still, he wasn't comfortable in this environment.

As he sat near a corner and piled his plate with potatoes, roast boar, and, of course, leafy vegetables from his own garden, Beorn watched Julius entertain pleasantries with courtiers who hated him. He could never understand why the older man enjoyed such interactions. Did the old man ever think about God outside of brief prayers and invocations?

As he ate, he spotted a familiar face and his face flushed. Evangelina still stood out among the servants and even the ladies of the court. He motioned her, though the fine courtly gesture of a courtier was morphed into the sloppy wave of a peasant. When he came face to face with her, he tried to smile.

"By Artemesia, it is good to see a friendly face here. I have no idea how to conduct myself at these feasts," he whispered before asking loudly, "What vintage and flavor is this wine?"

His eyes darted around the room and was grateful few people were paying attention to him.

"I hope that His Grace has not been a troublesome employer."

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Beorn Clovermaen Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael
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Brynjar was all too aware of the jibe Lelinus was laying against him in an attempt to get under his skin. Brynjar would not lose composure today, not with so many eyes on him. While the rivalry he felt with Lelinus ran deep, it had been years he had dreamed for this day and it would not be soured by his sickly brother.

"Indeed it has and we must thank Artemesia for this peace." The response might not have been what Lelinus expected as Brynjar had never been a particularly religious man--though he did respect the divine. "Your union seems to have suited you quite well. I think perhaps I shall turn my eye towards the Fjellborg's for my own bride." This certainly could not have been a response that Lelinus would ever conceived he'd hear from his older brother.

The seed of an idea that had settled in Brynjar's mind had taken root. He wasn't sure how far it would go, but he knew it would stir the pot and set blood boiling. For now, that was all Brynjar could do until he could rekindle the flame of war and set his sword against the northmen once more.

They arrived into the hall and Brynjar gestured to one of the servants before he sat at the center of the high table--the king's chair.

Image Elska watched as Brynjar approached the king's chair at the high table. While Tyr and Jorvik would be sitting at the high table, along with the other nobility of Byrdain, Elska was not highly ranked enough to sit up there. She was quite surprised when a servant approached her and bowed deeply at his waist.

"His Majesty, King Brynjar, has requested your presence at his side during the feast." The servant sounded nervous and eyed her wearily.

Elska's jaw dropped. She had not exchanged any words of substance with the fearsome king and her stomach knotted tightly to be requested at his side. She could see that Brynjar was as talented with schemes as he was with the sword. The left side of Brynjar was reserved for Jorvik as a foreign dignitary and a guest of honor. The right side was one that Elska was shaken to her bones to be invited to. It was breaking from tradition as the place was usually held for the heir, or the very least the next in line.

Brynjar was a man not afraid to break protocol or go against century old traditions. Elska knew that to refuse him would be politically dangerous and could plant a seed for dissent between the countries shaky peace. Yet she was more terrified to be at his side through the whole feast. What did he want with her?

“My lady?” the servant broke through her haze of thoughts and she realized she had been hesitating with her answer.

“Certainly, lead the way.”

The servant guided her through the various tables and mass of people trying to locate their correct seat and soon came to stand still as the servant pulled the chair out for her and she took her place next to Brynjar.

“You do me great honor, Elska of Agir, to seat next to me on such a night.” Brynjar’s voice was a smooth baritone and his dark eyes were blocked off to her giving no hint to the emotions or thoughts that were striking up behind their guard.

“It is a great honor to be requested to your presence during your coronation feast, Your Majesty.” Elska’s voice reflected the years of training she had in court affairs and did not betray the quaking sensation she felt rattling her soul.

Elska felt as though she had stepped into a viper’s den and was waiting for the moment it would strike and take her down.

Her eyes scanned passed Brynjar and passed Jorvik to Jorvik’s side where Tyr was seated and she was saying a silent prayer that there was nothing foul hiding in the shadows.

What motive did Brynjar have in seating a Fjellborg noble at his right hand? He had dismissed Ingrid and given her to a lesser man in marriage. Ingrid was by far the best match that could have come from Fjellborg. It made no sense that he would treat Elska.

“How have you found Byrdain?” the conversation that sprung from Brynjar’s mouth was casual and no different from what she would expect with any other man. This wasn’t any other man. Elska knew she had to be on her toes. She had witnessed his escapades with the poor servant girl at Ingrid’s wedding feast. Was that his plan? To despoil Elska and then turn her aside? The insult would be paramount. Elska was on her guard. She would not fall for such machinations.

“The climate is far warmer than our own in Fjellborg. I have rather enjoyed the weather. I’ve had the chance to go riding once and I was impressed with your land. You are certainly blessed here, Your Majesty.” She kept her calm facade in place as the food was served now that everyone was situated where they needed to be.

“I am pleased to hear it is to your liking.” Brynjar pulled his goblet to his mouth and savored the sweet wine that had been poured.

“I am grateful I have had the chance to visit. I was excited to be invited into Jorvik’s party to witness my dear friend Ingrid marry your brother.” The only indication he was listening as he ate was the sudden tension in his jawline as he chewed his food. “It was a beautiful ceremony. I was greatly ill at ease when I was informed of your father’s death. I am sorry I did not have the chance to extend my condolences to you before now.” Her voice lowered with her eyes out of respect.

“Thank you Elska,” she was startled to feet his fingertips brush against the back of her hand. She removed it quickly and placed it in her lap as if she had been burned. There was no doubt in her mind now about what Brynjar’s motives might be tonight.

“I only met your father briefly on our arrival. He seemed kind.” She plodded on as if nothing had happened.

“He was.” Brynjar’s short response.

“I have heard that Tyr is to stay for an amount of time.” Brynjar broke the silence that had settled between them.

“He told me as much. I believe it is Jorvik’s wish for Tyr to see that his sister is settled into her new life. I can’t imagine how it must be to adjust to a foreign land knowing you will never return home.” She hadn’t meant to say as much, but the wine seemed to have loosened her tongue a little.

“I am sure Ingrid will find friends among her new people. It seems her and Lelinus had come to some sort of mutual understanding, and I daresay they might even consider the other a friend despite such a short time in their acquaintance.” There was no malice in his voice as Elska had thought he would have displayed speaking on such topics. She was a foreigner to this land, but the animosity between the brother’s was legendary.

The main course was brought out and halted conversation between them for the moment. Elska breathed a sigh of relief as she could gather her wits about her again. She reached for her goblet only to shrink back. She needed to keep her mind tonight and she could already feel the wine she had previously drunk swim warmly through her veins.

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Character Portrait: Lelinus Augustus Character Portrait: Evangelina Character Portrait: Ingrid Jorvikdatter Character Portrait: Beorn Clovermaen Character Portrait: Brynjar Augustus Character Portrait: Julius Gadfael
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ImageEvangelina wanted very much to pitch herself from the highest tower for wanting to be elsewhere at the moment. If it weren't the dirty looks, it was the hateful words. Clearly she was not from here, that fact was made painful obvious with how the others treated her, and some of them thought she was spreading her legs the old king for the new king's favor and then did the same for him, so that she may work for him.

In his dreams, she thought as she waited to serve. She wished this dreadful service was over so at least she would only have to deal with him as needed. Not the eyes of the lords and ladies. She was a foreigner among foreigners. Beorn, bless his sweet heart, had been teaching her much, one being about the once feud between the two lands that were now unite due to the Prince's marriage to their princess.

The timing of the king's death brought much this peace into uneasy truce territory but that wasn't her place to think about such things, since apparently him being her friend meant more to the old king then it did to anyone in this place. She couldn't even see him being sent off. She would visit him if she could in his final rest, and give a drink in his name as was tradition in her land. She felt so unbelievably alone in this place, even more so now, she was glad for the bright eyed man who was clearly taken with her but said not a word of it, -not that the poor lad could manage it, which honestly she appreciated. She wasn't in the proper space for such a thing now, though the comfort would probably be nice.

As if called by her thoughts, Beron captured her attention with an almost child-like wave. She could only smile softly as he approached.

"By Artemesia, it is good to see a friendly face here. I have no idea how to conduct myself at these feasts," He said and her smile grew then though her brows shot high when he suddenly shouted, "What vintage and flavor is this wine?"

"I hope that His Grace has not been a troublesome employer."
"Glad to see you as well, I was just thinking of you." She told him and then mused his statement. "Hm, Troublesome yes, but nothing I can't manage." She told him honestly. "He is...tolerable." She said and with that she looked back at the new king, having called a woman to him, who looked impossibly uncomfortable. The way she was seated by him but leaning the opposite way, looking at her cup as if it held her recuse. Evangelina rolled her eyes.

"I thought I was merely a handmaiden, but no, clearly I've become a governess..." She sighed, and it was then that the main course was ready to serve as so, as was her duty, she grabbed the King's meal and nodded to Beorn. "Un moment s'il vous plait" She said before carrying his dish to the high dais where the king and his latest prey was sat. She looked at her, gave her a small smile, before setting down his dish in front of him. She was still cross with him and she didn't care if he knew it, not that he cared one way or the other and it seemed he was well into his wine.

"Would the lady like anything" She asked her, gathering a pitcher, and raising it for her. She wanted to find a way to help the woman but she had to know if she wanted to be saved, her body language told her as much but she had to be sure. Some women liked being the victim, Evangelina wasn't one of them.