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Isabelle Marcot

"I am /so/ tired of sitting up there and watching everyone else live my life. For once, I want to be the one deciding."

0 · 603 views · located in The Kingdom of Mederva

a character in “Within the Castle”, as played by Violet0403

Description

Isabelle Marcot

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Name: Isabelle Kathryn-Jane Marcot
Nicknames:--
Role: The vistitor
Age: Twenty-one


Likes:
-Getting what she wants
-Wine
-Walks
-Bodies of waters (lakes, rivers, oceans etc.)
-Getting dressed up
-Parties
-Attention


Dislikes:
-Sharing
-Obnoxious Drunks
-People who think they are smarter than her
-Horses
-Forests






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Bio:
Isabelle was born to Charlotte and Louis Marcot, the king and queen of the kingdom of Miroen. It was a simple kingdom, boring, lots of farms and nothing very interesting to keep her occupied with. She grew up an only child learning to get everything she desired. Of course the title of 'princess' helped with that but she had also learned to be a manipulative girl, acting and twisting people to get what she wanted out of them. But still deep down she was a lonely girl. Her parents never had much time for her and they rarely let her leave the palace so she never really developed the proper social skills outside of bending them to be used to her own desires.

She had everything she could have ever drempt of but still that wasn't enough. Isabelle wanted more. She wanted adventure, and experiences unsheltered by her parents' watchful eye, she wanted to actually accomplish something for herself. Her parents however had a different plan, they had decided that her time for playing was up and now she needed to be groomed for the crown. They forced her into spending more time at home, watching and observing the daily tasks of her parents. All the while while they prepped and found a batch of suitor for her to choose from.

Isabelle hated each and every one of them. They were all too stupid, and naive for her tastes. They all were excellent candidates, noble families, skilled, driven. But Isabelle found them dull. Nearly half of them treated her like a child and the other half ended up pissing her off withing the first ten minutes of their meeting. Her parents did not care. They demanded that she chose one and begin a courtship which inevitably lead to a marriage. She refused.

She took the opportunity to 'search elsewhere to seek out a suitor'; an opportunity for her to go out on her own. Her parents were easily swayed, a few pout and whines combined with practiced large blinks and head tilts seasoned with pitiful gazes and she had them agreeing to allow her to attempt to find her own fiancee on the condition that if she did not find someone to their satisfaction within a few weeks in each of the surrounding kingdoms she was to come home immediately and marry someone of her parent's choosing.

Isabelle figured this plan would work splendidly. Sadly, it did not. Every kingdom she visited was the same, men of valour and strength but none of interest. Now she is on the final stretch of her journey and is hoping to find somewhat at least promising enough to allow her a little while longer of freedom before returning to Miroen where she knows she will be back in the palace she was born in and knows she will more than likely not leave again until death.



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So begins...

Isabelle Marcot's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: Lyanna du Lac Character Portrait: Elijah de Montefort Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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Isabelle Marcot





It was fairly early still and Isabelle had yet to be woken up by any of the various staff members the royal family had been so kind as to loan her for the duration of her stay. She had been in Mederva and the palace more specifically for several weeks now. She had yet to find a husband or any viable reason to prolong her stay; however, she enjoyed it here. It was truly a lovely kingdom, very warm and very welcoming to her. That was until she was harshly awakened by the pang of glass being hit with something several times.

She woke with a gasp and sat up in her bed, clutching the quilt atop her body tight to her chest. She held in a scream, not wanting to alert any of the staff or people in this wing of the castle in case the noise had simply been a figment of her imagination or something simple like a bird flying into her window. She took a deep breath trying to calm herself down and slipped her legs over the edge of her bed, her sleeping gown flowing over the edge of the bed and then her legs as she stood. She pulled a light cloak from beside her bed and wrapped herself in it to hide her sleeping gown before slowly making her way over to her window and drawing back the curtain.

"James!" She gasped opening one of her window panes. "Milord, what on earth are you doing on the roof?" She asked calming down only momentarily from the fact that it was in fact not some sort of their or murderer, only to have her panic reboil inside of her from his being perched outside her window on the roof no less. "You do know it's impolite to go rapping on people's windows in the morning. I was terrified for a moment there, I thought you were a murderer or something." She chastised. It wasn't proper to chastise a king, but then again it also wasn't proper to sit outside of people's windows while they slept; not that Isabelle was one for being entirely proper anyway. "Also, I do need to get myself ready for breakfast and one of the maidservants will be in here any time now to help me ready myself and if they see you sitting outside my bedroom window people might start to talk."








Elijah de Montefort




Elijah awoke, for once, on his own. That was quite odd, normally Dai would have come in to wake him and force him down to breakfast. Elijah would grumble about being woken so early and Dai would ignore him and force the sun into his room and Elijah would eventually listen and allow him to help him get ready and take him down to the dining hall where they would eat before moving on to find some kind of 'productive activity' as Dai said, for Elijah to amuse himself with for a few hours to keep him out of trouble.

That was not the case though today, apparently. The sun was streaming through the gaps in his curtains that came with the fluttering of the cloth in the cool morning breeze but other than that Elijah was alone. He sat up in his bed and brushed his hair back from his face with a hand. He slipped from the bed and walked to the window to pull the drawstring for his curtain and let the new light of the morning spill into his chambers.

After another moment of confusion and waiting for Dai to come in, Elijah strode over to his closet to pull out a set of clothes and dressed swiftly for breakfast, pulling on a white shirt and simple dark trousers. By the time he was done and had shuffled his hair into a somewhat orderly place with his hands he found that his manservant had yet to arrive. It was odd, especially for Dai, normally he was so punctual and on top of everything.

The prince pouted slightly and opened the door, the hallway was empty too. He strode from his chamber and down to the dining hall from breakfast. The hall was still empty of his manservant. "Where the hell is he?" He mumbled to himself as he walked over to his place at the table. He sat down in his usual spot at the head of the table and gathered himself a plate of food, toasted bread, some of the eggs and the meat. He looked up with his usual charming smile and thanked one of the servants who had brought him a cup of water, causing her to nod and blush and scurry back into the kitchen to find something to busy herself with.

Elijah smiled slightly to himself and tore a bite sized piece off his bread and popped it into his mouth easily. He enjoyed breakfast, it was one of the rare times during the day that the palace was quiet. It was also the meal that not everyone took part in and it was rare that those who did spent much time in the room together. And by 'not everyone' he meant his brother. Though he and Ephraim had been close since their youth, Elijah wasn't exactly a fan of listening to the other drone on about the issues and problems he was worried about. To Elijah those were tedious, and of course he did his part, though he did push a large majority of it to his advisers. He preferred not to discuss them over meal times when there were far less irritating things to discuss.

This morning's breakfast was quiet, nearly dead silent actually. He could practically heat every breath of the few people who were in the room. Dear God, this was too much for him. He enjoyed the quiet but this was far too silent for even his taste.

He looked up to the only other person in the room, aside from the staff but they didn't exactly count. "You are aware that breakfast arrives already killed aren't you, love? The sword is hardly necessary." He couldn't help it, it was nearly natural instinct for him to tease, occasionally it was even a proven effective way of flirting.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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James Henry-Ernest Bandeaux
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The petrified voice of Princess Isabelle had James slowly peeping through his fingers. They covered his eyes securely, but by the tone of her voice, he judged that he was safe to look upon the princess. His bright blue eyes revealed in due time, and they were full childish play and genuine sweetness. A laugh escaped him as the princess expressed her great dismay at seeing the King of Effemane upon the rooftop, and crouching at her window.

ā€œOh, let them talk!ā€ James said in a jovial manner. He could care less about what the help gossiped about; it didnā€™t even bother him when those of high status spoke sour words to one another. It was just talk, like Isabelle said, nothing more. It wasnā€™t anything that would seriously harbor either of their pursuits. She was a beautiful, young Princess able to be wed to any man, and he was the King of Effemane. There was really nothing the talk could do to take that from them.

A goofy grin painted his face as he scooted toward the window. He would surely be more secure upon the roof if he were within arms reach of the opening. His hand was securely on the windowpane after he planted himself in a nicer place, and his blonde head leaned against the side of the window frame. ā€œI figured a lady of your esteem would have been awake by now.ā€ He teased at her in a light way, enjoying this odd moment on the rooftop.

Though he did not know the Princess Isabelle well, he figured she had more adventure in her than the rest of them. Most of the princesses he had met were well behaved, quiet, and submissive. With just his two weeks in Mederva he had grown to admire Isabelleā€™s personality and defiance. There was something very special about a noble woman who was not willing to conform to their parentsā€™ requests. Jamesā€™ father had always told him that women who took it upon themselves to find their husband were always a handful, but a handful worth dealing with.

ā€œI was enjoying the sunrise, to answer your question. I thought I would see if you had risen yet,ā€ James ran a nervous hand through his hair; he needed to regain his confidence. A wave of social anxiety ran through him. As King he was supposed to be the most high, the ultimate example of chivalry. Yes, he knew it was improper to go knocking on Ladies windows, but a little bug in his head told him that he could do whatever he wanted. He was King of Effemane after all.

Forgetting all about his original plan James continued speaking, ā€œYour ladyship, I request that you come through the window and enjoy the morning air before your handmaiden comes.ā€ A hand shot out toward her in a simple manner, almost as if he were not a royal king at all. Suddenly taking notice to her delicate state a subtle blush set upon his cheeks.

ā€œYou will be perfectly safe. I promise.ā€ James coaxed, trying to share his joy of the beauty of the world and this shining morning. Perhaps this wouldnā€™t work at all, it was more likely that he would scare her off.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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Isabelle Marcot




The Princess of Miroen watched carefully as the king perched on the roof outside of her [temporary] bedroom window uncovered his eyes and moved closer to the now open pane of glass. She watched him carefully as he spoke, her green eyes trained on his. It was odd he seemed to be telling the truth. He actually didn't seem to care about what people said. That was quite odd. Every man of nobility that she had met thus far, even those who were barely noble, cared about the talking of those around them. Image was everything and one ill conceived rumour could do quite a number on not only your standing but your family's. She had expected a king of all people to be shy of such talk, not welcome it.

She leaned against the opposite window frame from the man on the outside and crossed her arms defiantly. ā€œAnd I figured a man of your esteem would have been taught it's rude to go around waking people by poking your fat head into their windows.ā€ She replied. King or not, she would put him into his place. She didn't like to be snuck up on, she much preferred to plan her interactions out. It was much easier to get the upper-hand that way, being caught off guard tended to tear that away from you and put your opponent in the position of control and Isabelle was not one to let anyone have control over her.

Speaking of control, she knew she had gotten hers back when the king began to make nervous movements. Good. She enjoyed derailing people from their original plans. It was always good to make your opponent fumble a little bit, it kept them on their toes and tended to make them lose focus and slip up more easily. And with Isabelle, even simple conversation was a war; one she was determined to win. More often than not it was her goal to get people to slip up and say something they hadn't meant to but when it came to men it became a full tilt war in which she was determined to get the upper-hand on them. It wasn't that she disliked men. No that certainly wasn't the case. She simply disliked being treated like a child or some helpless creature that needed protecting. So Isabelle liked to prove to them that this was not the case.

Though this time it was she who was caught off guard. The nervous embarrassment only appeared to be momentary because the king just kept on speaking as if it had only been a brief effect and he had forgotten it by now. This time, maybe it was she who underestimated her opponent.

But then again, it seemed like genuine sweetness in his tone. It was odd. Very odd. There was something incredibly, and annoyingly, endearing about the way he held his hand out to her, not a command or an attempt at giving her a sense of security but instead a simple gesture, a request, an offer of assistance underneath. And she had no clue why but it made her want to oblige his request.

She made a slight face, more at herself than him and walked to the large vanity in between her set of windows and pulled over it's chair to the window. With a small sigh she placed her hand on Jame's using it and the back of the chair to step upon the chair and then slip out of the window and onto the roof beside him. Her hand going from his to the other side of the window frame to keep a grip on something secure.

She didn't want to admit it but it was nice out here. The cool breeze brushing against her skin and colliding with the warmth of the new sun, the view of the green land surrounding the palace. It almost made her forget that she was on the roof and thirty seconds from falling to her death at any point. But even when she remembered that, she didn't feel very scared, not even at her lack of control, just a slight flow of adrenaline through her veins. It was actually quite nice.
Damn him.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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James Henry-Ernest Bandeaux
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Patience joined his subtle smile as his outstretched hand coaxed the woman. Her words were sharp in response to his play, and though taken aback, he liked it. The way she used his own words against him and wasn't afraid to outwardly point out his royal flaws. I can assure you that no woman in Effemane dare speak to her king that way, nor any woman whom he had thought to court. An impressed smirk illustrated his expression as he waited for the little lady to make up her mind.

He watched carefully as Isabelle had an internal debate. James assumed it was about the social acceptability of being out on the roof before breakfast and on top of that draped in nothing more than her underclothes and a blanket. The fact that she even greeted him without properly dressing herself took James a little guard.

Not that he wanted to see her in her undergarments, but he could not help but have his mind wander, especially with the conflicted Isabelle right in front of him. James let out a hearty laugh at the face that she made before going over to her vanity to bring over a chair to step on. At first he thought she was going to reject him, and oh what a stringing rejecting that would be. James would have surely said something if she would have made that face and walked away without another word.

And thankfully the princess showed hope. There was a bit of adventure in her, though it took a little effort, he could now see that twinkle of exhilaration in her eyes. After leading her out onto the rooftop James let out a little sigh. What a perfect way to start the day, first starting is morning alone in the dark hours of the morning and then sharing the lighter part with a beautiful woman. Once Isabelle found her footing James, with only good and honest intentions, moved his hand that held hers to the small of her back.

He was innocent in his actions, instinctively placing his hand there only for her safely, should anything go madly wrong atop the slanted roof. The silence between them was not painful, nor awkward, it was peaceful and respective. In tandem they absorbed the rushing wind, the sound of chirping birds, and the smell of the great forest to the west.

ā€œI do this every morning, you know.ā€ James said in a bit of a matter-of-factly tone. The unoccupied hand ran through his hair once again, an obvious nervous habit. Most women thought of it as a cute way of getting there attention, but really it was just James trying to collect his thoughts.ā€œThough of course, back at home itā€™s not quite as troublesome... I have an actual balcony there.ā€ A soft chuckle escaped his lips; James had always been one to jest. And if he wasnā€™t amusing his company, he was at least amusing himself.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: Lyanna du Lac Character Portrait: Elijah de Montefort Character Portrait: Bliss Barnard Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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Isabelle Marcot




Isabelle kept her balance as she carefully unfolded her legs and stretched them out on the rooftop, hidden beneath the folds of fabric from both her sleeping gown and the cloak she draped over it before going to her window just moments earlier. She kept one hand firmly placed on the bottom ledge of the window frame and the other beside her on the roof.

She was barely seated comfortably -or as comfortable as one could be while sitting on a downward slanting surface, not ever meant for people, let alone princesses to be sitting on, hundreds of feet off the ground- when she felt his hand slide from hers and find it's way to the small of her back. Her entire body stiffened slightly in reaction. She was not used to people having any sort of physical contact, and certainly not something as intimate as that. She liked to keep her distance, only allowing the briefest of touches and only allowing them when she wanted them. But then again, that was just another way of her keeping control of the conversation and was all a part of playing the game. She also didn't climb out onto roofs with strange men simply because they came to her window and invited her to either though so clearly this interaction was one completely unfamiliar to her.

For once in her life she was enjoying the silence, it wasn't uncomfortable or forced, it wasn't due to a battle of stamina or anything of the sort. It was simply just silent, save that was for the background noise coming from the light wind and the early morning birds flitting around in both the open air and the densely leaved trees.

When he broke the silence she looked up quickly and then to him with a soft humming noise. "Oh." She said quietly, having processed that the new sound had been him speaking again. "Well, I would hope you mean the watching the sunrise and not people sleeping." She smiled softly even though she knew he hadn't meant the latter, it was just something of the moment she could use to tease him with.

When he spoke of his balcony at home, she remembered her own. A large stone-walled balcony perched outside of her bedroom at home. Though hers was never used for the same purpose as his. Instead she mainly would lean against the top of the stone wall and watch the people below, the fields, the farms, everything, and she would think, daydream even. Her balcony was probably the only place she ever really got any time to herself, though it was often interrupted by someone coming to reign her back inside. Maybe in truth the roof was the better idea, she made a mental note to see if she could find a roof at home to sit on instead. If nothing else it would sure be amusing as a way to watch her parents get worked up and angry.

"It is quite nice out here though. I can see why you do it. " She mused. "I have watched the sunset before, I can only imagine how much nicer it must be from such a height." Quiet too. She didn't add that out loud though, it wasn't proper to complain about ones parents especially when they were also one's king and queen. She did wish though that sometimes she would have a moment like that to herself, alone from all others, watching as the world too wakes up slowly.








Elijah de Montefort




A small smirk played on Elijah's face at the response that came his way. He obviously found it quite amusing. He could tell that she was clearly having some sort of internal debate with herself over how to respond to him. He could also tell she seemed uncomfortable by both her own response and his presence in general.

He found this quite odd as he had seen her multiple times with Ephraim and she never once seemed uncomfortable or intimidated by him, though most thought that she ought to be. It was odd to see her look so...scared?- She was, after all, a knight for Gods sake. You would think she wouldn't be afraid of what was simply a few words.

He watched carefully as she switched courses and quickly began apologizing profusely, another small smirk on his lips. ā€œOh no, by all means, keep going.ā€ He said, still clearly amused. ā€œI'm finding this quite entertaining. Besides, I like bossy.ā€ He couldn't help but slip that bit in there. Flirting was like breathing to him, and it was almost as if it came with an extra bonus if it added a bit of social awkwardness to his... well victim would probably be the only appropriate term.

Before he had an opportunity to say anything else another voice quipped up from the opposite side of the room. She made a slight face, rolling his tongue against his cheek. Damn. This was almost as bad as trying to play with Giselle in the room. But on the brighter side, Bliss was much more easily swayed with a smile than Gigi ever was.

ā€œOh you hush.ā€ He told the handmaiden. ā€œYou know very well I am plenty of fire.ā€ He made sure to catch her eye with a stare of his own before she looked away. Another grin danced it's way across his face. ā€œOh, don't you worry about that, dear. I know exactly how many people want me.ā€

Maybe that was one of the biggest downfalls he had, though he certainly wouldn't think so. He wasn't unaware of his charm, nor unaware of the effect it had on women. No, he knew exactly it's power and used it to his advantage. And in practice it had worked quite well for him. Because though he might have his arrogance and self-centeredness and conceitedness he was still the charmer that he was. Even things that elsewise might have been seen as vulgar, off of his lips it was nearly always a proposition, a challenge even. And he loved every second of it.

He enjoyed watching the way women fought between wanting to find him repulsive and yet still blushing at the things he said to them, though it was generally much easier one-on-one because then he could also throw in a few whispers or allow his hand to brush against their skin. But he would take this, watching them both squirm was just as, if not more, fun for him. Besides, if it got boring or they got over their shyness he would always have the opportunity to simply walk away, and sometimes that made him more wanted than anything he said could have.

Oh yes, this was going to be fun.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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James Henry-Ernest Bandeaux
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James only noted the tension from his companion and did not dwell on it. She may not have liked the fact that he was in such close proximity to her, but no one would like it if the Princess Isabelle were to fall off a roof. Jamesā€™ bright spirit showed through as he kept a subtle smile across his face. It was almost a habit around women, and the poor man couldnā€™t really help himself around a beautiful one like the Princess.

His blue eyes carefully watched her as she described the feeling of being atop the roof. That was one of the many reasons that he started his mornings above the kingdom. It was a good time to reflect on past decisions and to ponder issues of the kingdom.

Truly, getting up early, inhaling the cold air and watching the sun awake was one of the most calming experiences. It was jump-start for him, a moment of quiet for him before going down to the barricades and training. After which he usually went to the kitchen to eat breakfast before a day filled with kingly duties. But while he was in mederva it was different. James didnā€™t need to keep himself on such a tight schedule. He was able to enjoy his time here and still get his work done.

He chuckled as she continued to poke fun at him. ā€œIā€™ll have you know that women would die to have the king at their window in my kingdom.ā€ His expression was cocky, but his voice was filled with humor. James was an honest man, and although he was having his fun, his words were true. Common women and noble women alike were falling over themselves to even get a glance at the young king. Not only was he known for his kind heart and wonderful leadership skills, but he was also known for his looks. His lump some of money also helped.

That was part of the reason that James decided to get away from Effemane for a while. Though he still took care of business in his kingdom and did his daily paperwork, he still needed time away. He loved his people and his kingdom, but the young king needed a reminder of what he was standing for and who he wanted to become. Getting away from Effemane was the perfect opportunity to do that.

James had the feeling that their moment on the rooftop would not last long though. Princess Isabelle's handmaiden would come in soon and would be appalled at such a scandalous sight. Then word would get around. The mere thought of people saying such things about him and Isabelle made James smile. Why not let them assume? It wasn't hurting anyone, was it?

"I have one more request, Princess." James said, no longer looking at her but gazing out at the beautiful kingdom in front of him. At first, James thought of asking Lyanna to accompany him to the ball that was being held tonight, seeing as they were good friends, but had a feeling she would not accept such an offer. James understood that Lyanna did not like social events, let alone being escorted by a king. James looked over at Isabelle with a crocked smile on his face. The man adjusted himself so that he was facing her better before asking, "Might you accompany me to the ball this evening?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: Lyanna du Lac Character Portrait: Elijah de Montefort Character Portrait: Bliss Barnard Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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Isabelle Marcot




Isabelle grinned slightly at the king's response to her poking fun about the window incident. "Then I guess it's good that I'm not a woman of your kingdom." She replied. "I'm not easily swayed by a fancy title. After all in most cases its just good parentage or sheer good luck. And I'll have you know that mean would die for being at my window in my kingdom."

It wasn't entirely serious, she knew that, they were simply teasing one another. But that didn't make it any less true. Either of her statements for that matter. The idea of a title wasn't something she concerned herself with, it was always one of the first things her parents told her about potential suitors but she paid it no mind. She was more concerned with their ability to keep her from wanting to kill either them of herself during the duration of their conversation. And regarding anyone being outside of her bedroom window, that was pretty self-explanatory; attempted to climb up to a princess' bedroom window simply was not a good idea, that was unless you fancied getting an arrow shot through your brain.

Isabelle glanced up from the scenery in front of her and back to James when he spoke. said, no longer looking at her but gazing out at the beautiful kingdom in front of him. She swallowed lightly at his question, looking down for a small moment. "Perhaps we should start with breakfast." She replied, "I fear that if we ignore the rest of the palace for much longer they won't want to host a ball for us any longer and there won't be one to attend. "

Though she wasn't one for commitment this wasn't that serious of an offer. After all, the ball was in their honours and since they weren't very familiar with too many of the people living in the kingdom it wasn't exactly strange for them to go together. She used her hand on the ledge of the window to help her rise into a half-standing position so she could duck back through the open window and onto the chair. She stepped down from the chair and moved across the room to the dressing screen and slipped her fingers around the [url=oi40.tinypic.com/2cs6tjp.jpg]dress[/url] she'd hung there the evening before.

"And before we get anywhere near the rest of today my dressing would be a good start." She said stepping behind the screen and slipping easily from the sleeping gown and stepping into the new gown, adjusting it on herself and loosely lacing it up in the back before stepping back into the room. "Help me lace it up?" She asked, turning her back to the window and clutching the gown to her chest with her arm so the king could help her lace the gown up tighter than she could on her own.

"And I assume accepting your offer couldn't hurt any." She admitted in a softer tone after a moment. "But I'll warn you, I'm not exactly much of one for a ball, I have a habit of causing a scene. So I completely understand if you wanted to recant your offer." She added, it was true she wasn't one for a formal party. They were boring and tedious and she wasn't the type to smile and play the perfect princess while held in awful conversation with men of nobility simply because they were so and felt entitled. She had a nasty little habit of telling them exactly her feelings and they rarely took that well.









Elijah de Montefort





Elijah made a slight face at Lyanna's response to the handmaiden. He hadn't been aware he was laughing at all let alone laughing at her. Oh. Then he realized she hadn't meant literally laughing at her. But he wasn't doing it metaphorically either. He made a mental note not to try that again as she apparently didn't take his jokes as being anywhere near amusing.

Before he could even comment or respond, Bliss was talking and even she couldn't finish what she was saying because before she had even gotten near finishing it, Lyanna was excusing herself and walking from the dining hall. So Elijah sat that with the same dumbfounded expression on his face.

She had both confused him with her words and then with her abrupt removal of herself from the situation, especially since from what he had heard Ephraim speak of her she was a woman of honour and that didn't make her seem the type to commit such an informality, especially when it was in regards to someone of his own standing. But maybe that was just his own ego inflating again and blurring his vision.


He shrugged and turned back to his breakfast, which was quickly interrupted by Bliss speaking again, obviously to him. In response to her comment he shrugged. "Why would I? " He asked. "I did nothing wrong and I do not control her schedule. Besides, a prince doesn't chase someone when they walk away." That was the only answer he gave. It was true it wasn't something that a prince did, or at least it wasn't something that Elijah did.

He finished up with his breakfast quickly and stood from the table. "Besides, I have my own things to attend to and I'm sure Gi will need you to brush her hair or whatever you girls spend your day doing together." He pushed his chair back from the table and walked from it and out into the hallway to attend to his own paperwork before the rest of that's day's festivities. At least getting that over and done with would make his brother at least moderately happy and then in turn Eliah would get nagged at much less since he would have all of his paperwork and attendings to done with for the day. That would also open him up to spending his afternoon doing much more entertaining activities.

He allowed himself to stride from the dining hall with no further excusal, not that he really needed one because he knew far well that no one left in the room would dare question it or say anything about it. Not to him anyway. He headed directly to his office nearly directly across the hall from his brother and sat down at his desk, leaving the door open; after all it wasn't like he was doing anything secretive and he liked to know if anything was occurring in the hallway or nearby while he was working. One wouldn't want to unintentionally find themselves under siege and not even know it until you were slaughtered. Plus the opened door kept people from spying on him while he worked and he wasn't unaware of the staff's tendency to do so through closed doors, not that he would have done any different then they.

He eyes the stack of papers, much of which he'd been putting off dealing with for some time now, and groaned. He hated this bit, though he couldn't really complain as this was really his only required task, well he could complain technically, and did on occasion but that was just him. He pulled a paper from the stack, the bit at the bottom that had been there for damn near forever now and actually decided to read its content. Dear all things godly this was boring, and this was not the 'important' things that he couldn't pass off to an adviser. He made another mental note, this one to never become an adviser.

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Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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James Henry-Ernest Bandeaux
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A pang of rejection hit the young king in the stomach. James had probably never been rejected in his life, and Isabelle had so calmly avoided answering his question that it felt like a rejection. He raised his eyebrows in dismay as the Princess so promptly lifted herself up and went back inside. James would have said something clever and likable, but he was so surprised by her reaction that the poor man was lost for words.

James turned to follow her as she continued to speak. He listened carefully, waiting for some sign of acceptance. Then again, she hadnā€™t actually said no. Maybe James had overestimated himself. He thought that they had grown into friends enough for her to accompany him, and the request wasnā€™t strange. They were both guests in Mederva and it made since for the two of them to go to the honorary ball together. Then again, it made since for them to be separate individuals too. That way the people of Mederva could honor both of them.

The young King followed suit and sat on the window seal as Isabelle continued, his legs hanging into her chamber. James nodded in agreement as she addressed her need to get dressed. Out of being a gentleman, when Isabelle was behind the screen, James forced himself to look around her room. He hadnā€™t expected a woman of her status and etiquette to just undress willy-nilly with James in her bedroom. ā€œHelp me lace it up?ā€ James had been so successfully distracting himself that he was surprised to find the princess right in front of him now. Her back was bare, save for the gown that was loosely strung together.

At first James didnā€™t know what to do. His eyes widened in disarray as the king sputtered to answer her. Isabelle had to understand that this young king had been sheltered; he had never even really seen a woman naked. Yes, he liked to have his fun, but most of the stories that roamed around the kingdoms about him were tall tales. He loved women, but probably in the most innocent and adoring way possible. ā€œI- Uhā€¦ā€ He lifted himself from the window seal so he would be able to assist her, and right when he planted his feet upon the ground is when he was able to speak, ā€œYes, of course.ā€

His gently moved her pale hair to one side, hoping that this was the right thing to do. Jamesā€™ fingers fumbled for a moment with the strings, and before continuing he paused, thankfully almost the entire dress had already been laced. His fingers lightly brushed against her skin as he led the lacing through the links, and James, despite his high title and social abilities, blushed at the sensation. He only thanked the gods that he was behind the Princess when he felt the heat settle in his face.

With the examples of the lowed links he was able to lace her up correctly, now he just needed to tighten the dress. He was careful with how tightly he pulled; he knew not how women liked their clothing. Thankfully his silent battle was covered up when she began to speak again.

ā€œAnd I assume accepting your offer couldnā€™t hurt any.ā€ James agreed quietly, ā€œIt would only hurt those who were wishing for your hand at the ball.ā€ A small smile grew on his lips, knowing how smooth his words had come out of his mouth. James was nearly finished when she spoke of recanting her invitation. He shook his head and said, ā€œI only take women who cause a scene at the festivities! I wouldnā€™t have it any other way, and besides itā€™s much more interesting that way.ā€ Despite his jovial tone James was genuine in his offer.


ā€œIs this alright?ā€ James asked, finishing his last link and beginning to tie the ends. Though he took twice as long as any woman he thought that he had done fairly decent job.

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Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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Isabelle Marcot




The princess waited patiently as she heard the movement behind her. She felt incredibly stupid as she waited there. What in heaven had she just agreed to. She scowled at herself for it. She was being an idiot, losing focus all because of what? Because some handsome man was simply nice to her? No, she was not about to let him get the best of her. She heard what she could only assume to have been an attempt at a reply to her question. She stood their waiting, her lips pursing slightly and her eyes glancing around the room without moving as she waited for any sign that the dress was being fastened around her.

What on Earth was taking him so long? It was a simple task, put the ribbon through the loops and pull it tightly, it didn't exactly take a genius to work it. She was almost glad that it was one that appeared to make him slightly uncomfortable or at least have some sort of effect on him. It was good, it meant she still had some footing here and the game was not all but lost.

ā€œIt's just a ribbon, your majesty not some sort of puzzle. I'm sure you can figure it out.ā€ She told him, still not so much as turning to glance at him. Finally she heard a few footsteps against the floor behind her and felt the movement of the air at her back as the king presumably took the ribbon ends in his hands. She felt the dress begin to shift and pull itself towards the center of her back. She was familiar with the sensation it was one she experienced daily as her handmaiden would lace up the top of her gown for her.

ā€œWell in that case, I'm sure I am not likely to disappoint you.ā€ She replied. Soon enough she felt the dress press itself against her chest firmly and the back ribbon stop moving. She had absolutely no intention of being on any better behaviour simply because it was a king escorting her. If he ended up embarrassed or shamed by something that occurred it was hardly her fault. Especially since she had warned him. No, she was not about to hold her tongue nor would she be any less harsh to those who she deemed deserving of her wrath.

She had decided, being escorted by his majesty would have no affect on her evening. She was here with a purpose and his presence would not get in her way of that. She had absolutely no intention of going back home to her parents' lock and key anytime soon and this King of Effemane was not going to ruin that for her, no matter how nice he was.

She found herself about to tell him that it was fine and thank him but was cut off by a knock and the door to her temporary bedroom opening. ā€œYour highness I- Oh! I'm sorry your highness, your majesty. Didn't mean to interrupt. Please excuse the intrusion.ā€ And with that the young girl, presumably someone sent to help the princess get ready for the day and ensure that she was awake, scurried from the room closing the door quickly behind her.

Isabelle had a smile smile playing on her lips at the girl's reaction. She wasn't one hundred percent what had gotten the girl into such a tizzy. Perhaps it was simply fear of getting into trouble or reprimanded for her intrusion. Either way, Isabelle wasn't overly concerned with it. After all, it wasn't like the words of a chambermaid were anything that might have an affect on the opinion of her to anyone of nearly high enough standing for her to marry.

"Thank you." She remembered to add softly as she walked towards the large door. "I think it might be best for us to occupy ourselves elsewhere before we frighten any more of the staff here. " She said pulling open the door and stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door for King James to close behind himself. "Besides, " She called, glancing over her shoulder. I'm sure we seem quite anti-social up here and there are far better uses of our time downstairs."

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Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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James Henry-Ernest Bandeaux
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ā€œI stand warned.ā€ The King of Effemane said firmly. Oh yes, James had heard of Isabelleā€™s famous outbursts. He, like so many other young bachelors, was well aware of what the Princess Isabelle was capable of. Well, perhaps not well aware, but at least well informed. He had heard through rumor of the many things she had spit out at some of the most powerful men in the world. She was a handful that was for sure.

The idea of having such a feisty date was not embarrassing in the least. A sort of adventure and challenge came from it. Not challenge in thinking that he would train her to sit tight and proper, no, a challenge of her wits and his combined. Surely there was something good to come from the strong headedness of this Princess. James was sure of it. One day Isabelleā€™s fearless speech would pay off in the wildest of ways.

Just as James was about to suggest they venture downstairs a servant girl interrupted him. The young thing was shocked at the sight of them, and frankly a little rosy in the cheeks. Thinking that she had interrupted some divine royal affair, she could no longer form proper sentences. A slight laugh escaped Jamesā€™ lips as the frazzled handmaiden left them to their peace. How silly people were in their assumptions.

His blue eyes followed her first to the door, then his body. She was right of course; a day was never spent well up in the chambers. On top of that the King was growing hungry. Stepping into the hallway he closed her bedroom door quietly before following after her.

ā€œIā€™m afraid, dear Princess, while in your chambers we seem anything but anti-social.ā€ His eyes flickered with mischief as his words suggested scandal. He was playing with her, trying to test out the waters before he would have to deal with her the entire evening. He was good at this game, you see, making sure that while he spoke the handmaiden that walked in on them heard.

This rumor would spread like wildfire, no doubt. His eyes flicked to the servant girl that was now filled so full of juicy gossip that she giggled as she turned the corner. James smiled to himself before he smoothed past the Princess.

ā€œOhā€¦ And there goes our secret.ā€ James cooed sarcastically over Isabelleā€™s shoulder. Now the entirety of the Mederva castle staff would think that the King of Effemane and the Princess Isabelle were lovers. He knew that these words of false facts would not bother him, but he could not say the same for the dear Princess.

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Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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Isabelle Marcot




Isabelle turned her head to glance over her shoulder at the king. She felt her lips curve up into a smile at his comment before lifting a single finger, her right forefinger in this case, up to her lips in a shushing fashion, a small smile still on her lips though. She barely suppressed a giggle as she glanced back over her shoulder again to the poor girl who was trying to walk as fast as she could down the hallway without running in order to distance herself.

After the girl quickly turned around the corner with what appeared to be a small smile of her own. Isabelle had a feeling that the rumour of what the girl had seen, and likely both various versions of it as well as people's own theories would spread quickly amongst the palace, and she had a feeling it probably would spread so quickly that it might even make it up a little higher than just the staff before it died down.

She frowned slightly, though not because of the undoubted and inevitable rumours but instead about the fact that King James had made his way ahead of her. She knew that it would have been proper to allow the king to lead their path however Isabelle was not one to blindly follow. She certainly was not about to blindly follow a man simply because he was a man and had a fancy title. But then again, it also wasn't in her personality to follow anyone, she didn't care who they were.

ā€œI assume that it is. However, on the brighter side of things this could prove to be quite entertaining. After all, you saw how she reacted from our just standing there, I doubt that anyone else who hears of our scandalous escapades will be able to hide their reactions.ā€ She said quietly to him as she quickened her pace a little in order to catch up to his majesty and match her pace to his.

ā€œI actually wonder how far our little secret will have gotten by the time we make it down there. I suspect she hasn't managed to keep it to herself even just this long.ā€ She gave the king a small smile before slipping past him and nearly skipping around the corner and down the stairs towards the dining hall to get some food in her stomach before proceeding with her day. She knew it was a good idea to pick up some sort of breakfast first. Firstly because she knew a large portion of staff would be there and several would be coming and going and it was doubtless that their rumour would probably make it there first. Secondly, it was because she knew she probably wouldn't eat until that night and she hardly enjoyed entertaining with an empty stomach, especially since she was hardly pleasant to strangers while well fed.

The blonde did a small twirl as she moved down the hallway, pausing at the bottom of the stair against the wall to wait for the king to make his way down the stairs. "Come along dear, wouldn't want to miss our debut." She sang, softly enough that her voice wouldn't carry much further than the top of the stairs or end of the hallway. She found it quite amusing that the handmaiden from before wasn't anywhere to be seen, she must have ran down the hallway the second she turned the corner. Isabelle nearly chuckled to herself at the thought.

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Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: Lyanna du Lac Character Portrait: Malik Falmari Character Portrait: James Bandeaux Character Portrait: Su'da
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James Henry-Ernest Bandeaux
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ā€œJust standing there?ā€ The king piped in, ā€œI was obviously lacing up your dress after an intimate night together.ā€ His tone was sarcastic and his eyes were filled with amusement. That was surely what the little maid had seen. Without even thinking the little lady assumed that the royal bloods were developing a scandal. The thought made him chuckle. The staff was always throwing together wild theories and tall tales of those of a higher status, like theyā€™ve nothing better to do.

The King walked at a steady pace, in a happy and confident swagger. His step was so bright that he could have been mistaken for a little skip here and there. Having always been a Crowned Prince and now the King, James was used to having the quicker step. It was a custom in Effemane that the King be ever so slightly ahead of those he was conversing with. It was both symbolic and action of respect. Symbolic in the way that the King was always to lead his follows, and respectful in the sense that his men did not upstage him. Though not entirely keen on the idea, James had developed the habit.

Suddenly, Isabelle was all the chatter, which both puzzled James and amused him. She seemed rather reserved and cold in her chambers but now she was jovial and warm. ā€œOh Iā€™m sure the kitchen will flutter with talk when we arrive together.ā€ James responded. There was no doubt in his mind that that handmaiden had flown like the wind to the first servant she could find. After that itā€™s history, one after another until the entire Medervan staff was enlightened. Rest assured that Isabelleā€™s chambers will be well watched and hesitantly entered now.

With a quicken step and a little bit of a skip the Princess Isabelle had passed him. In instinct James picked up his footing and followed close behind her, almost with the feeling of a race. Just a couple steps behind her he listened to her voice chirp. James rolled his eyes as he met her at the bottom. ā€œPet names?ā€ He noted, continuing on the path toward food. His hand pressed gently against her back as they grew close to the dining hall. ā€œI like it,ā€ He said before adding in a sarcastic ā€œmy love.ā€

In hopes to continue their suspicious behavior and blazing rumor James spoke at a hearty volume. Anyone who was in the hallway would be able to hear his words. James laughed as he thought of yet another maid overhearing them. Oh what fun it would be to fool all of these servants. Then, with some luck, their rumor might hit the nobles. Only then would James have to call to his cousins to explain. Though he wasn't entirely sure that they would care. Ephraim had his hands full with his duties and Giselle and Elijah was... Elijah. He had no real intention of marrying soon. That man wanted nothing more than to have his fair share of women.

Thinking of his dear cousin, James made a mental note to go and seek him out. It wasn't like Elijah to be far from the social event of the morning. After a brief moment James entered the dining hall and quickly came to realize that Prince Malik was sitting at the dining table. He and Malik had spent some time together when James still Prince and seeing an old friend was enough to make the man grin.

"My dear friend!!" James called as he went over and clapped the shoulder of the Prince of Shahari.

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Character Portrait: Giselle Angelou Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: Lyanna du Lac Character Portrait: Elijah de Montefort Character Portrait: Ephraim de Montefort Character Portrait: Malik Falmari
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He noted the lady knight take a few respectful steps backwards when Suā€™da took up a defensive position behind him, though honestly, Malik could have sighed. It would be the height of folly for these people to attempt to assassinate him, and he knew the knightly sorts werenā€™t the kind to bother with something like that. If this Lyanna had any intention of slaying him, she would have challenged him to open-field combat in that quaint little way Merdervans had. As if honor had a place in matters of life and death. Malik had his own code, but it was strange and obscure to most, and it did not treat in too many of the chivalric principles as such.

Honestly, he rather wished his manservant would just eat, but he wasnā€™t going to demand thatā€”heā€™d have food sent up later, perhaps, when he settled into his chambers. Until then, he supposed it would be like this. The absence of company was honestly a bit dreary, at least until two new people entered the room.

He recognized both on sight, though heā€™d only ever met one of them. Heā€™d heard a little rumor that King James of Effemagne was present, but he hadnā€™t expected to run into him so soon. ā€œAh, James! It looks like being king agrees with you!ā€ Malik grinned and reached up to slap the man across the back in a friendly gesture. James was a fellow who knew how to have a little fun now and then, something that was doubtless sorely needed in such a chill place as this.

The lady with him was also recognizable. Princess Isabelle Marcot, preceded by her reputation for manipulation and wiles. He glanced back and forth between the two and raised an eyebrow, his smile growing fractionally larger across his face as his eyes glittered with mirth. ā€œAnd her Highness Isabelle. My, my, it seems that Merderva really is playing host to half the worldā€™s royalty. I do wonder what has possessed you all to come to this little mixer of the high-and-mighty, but of course, I shall not pry.ā€ His tone remained light, jocular, but there was a keen edge to it, as though he didnā€™t really need to ask to understand. And who did? A castle this bigā€”the number of spies was simply outrageous. It always would be; there was simply no avoiding it. He would never deny having a few well-placed ones of his own, for why should he need to deny that? It was a practice that everyone knew about, and almost everyone used. He revealed some things so that what was kept hidden remained so.

Better to tell a small secret, so that people never went looking for the big one.

ā€œPlease, both of you, do join me. I simply must share a meal with such illustrious company.ā€ Malik gestured widely, as if to encompass the otherwise empty table and all the freshened food that sat upon it. If none of the Merdervan royals was interested in holding court over breakfast, he certainly wouldnā€™t balk at the chance. Not when it was bound to be so much fun.



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Ephraim debated the merits of this for a moment, but the waterfall was far enough away from the border of the Western Provinces that it would not be an issue. Not with the armies still caped where they were. So it was with a subtle nod that he agreed, picking up the pace until Sable matched Wen in stride, a stride which increased until both were galloping rather rapidly over the terrain. He didnā€™t travel too far ahead, of courseā€”the simple fact of the matter was that a horse bred for war could last longer than one for leisure, but he chose to remain at his friendā€™s side, his own inborn sense of caution demanding it.

They had not quite yet reached the waterfall when Ephraim spotted something curious in the distance. A rider, from the look of it, pushing his horse far beyond the bounds of safe pace. The animal, as it drew closer, was obviously in a lather, a dangerous state if they had much further to go. The workmanlike quality of the armor and it plainness indicated a sword rider of some kind, and not a member of the nobility, but that did not invalidate the importance of what the person was doing.

ā€œHold here,ā€ he told Giselle, his station settling over him like a shroud. That was the voice of Ephraim the General, not Ephraim the childhood friend, and he spurred Sable to intercept the rider, holding up a hand to call a halt to the manā€™s forward progress. ā€œHold, in the name of Merderva,ā€ he said formally, drawing up when the other did.

ā€œGods save Merderva,ā€ the man replied, his voice leaden with weight of weariness. ā€œI bring a message for their Highnesses. Please, it is most urgent.ā€ As if for proof, the man fished a folded parchment out of his cloak somewhere.

Ephraim blinked. ā€œThat is a title that I hold,ā€ he said mildly, and the messenger did a double-take, scrutinizing him for a moment before he dipped his head in embarrassment. It was the color of his eyes that made him recognizable, he knew, for he did not wear the more ostentatious regalia he was allowed.

ā€œB-begging your pardon, Highness,ā€ the man stammered, reminding him faintly of Lyanna, who was like as not having a rough time of it trying to keep up with the boundless energy and verve of the Shahari prince. Replacing the parchment, he pulled out another, and a light of amusement crept into Ephraimā€™s eyes. It was good to know he wouldnā€™t actually brandish a missive for Royal eyes only to just anyone.

The second paper, he took, reading over the words and resisting the urge to curse under his breath. ā€œAll right,ā€ he said calmly, handing the paper back. ā€œCarry this same message to my brother Elijah, and let no one else see it, do you understand?ā€ The man nodded, tucking the message away again, and Ephraim dismissed him. Lashing his horse with his reins, the messenger took up a full-tilt gallop again, making a beeline for the palace. Ephraim returned to Giselle, shaking his head.

ā€œIā€™m sorry,ā€ he said, and the guilt was obviously genuine, ā€œbut I must return. I have to make arrangements to house the Iron Duke and his party. It seems my request to treat for peace is to be answered in person, long before I had anticipated.ā€ Perhaps the worthiest of all the things he could be doing with his time, but one he dreaded. The lord he was to treat with was not known for his mercy, and it would take more than a few parties and a pleasant stay in Merderva to forge a treaty between these two nations. Ephraim was going into this at a steep disadvantage, and just for one small moment, he cursed the legacy of his uncle for that. But it was no good berating a dead man for his lack of foresight, and he had too much to do to waste any time in so unworthy a fashion.

ā€œWe must head back. Iā€™ll have to host him at one of the mansesā€”weā€™re running out of room in the royal wing.ā€ He would inform the stablemistress to send whomever she trusted the most to supervise that part of it, and the same for the kitchenmaster, the head maid, and several other people. They were going to have to split castle staff to augment the capabilities of the manse. Perhaps he would have to send Laurent as well, to manage everything else. It was going to be a delicate balancing act, but by the time Duke Hastenback arrived, they would be ready.

They would have to be.

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Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: Malik Falmari Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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Isabelle Marcot




Isabelle paused at his comment her face betraying her confusion momentarily at the sound of his comment. She hadn't entirely realized what she'd said and the implications it might have held. She broke into a small smile at James' added notion. She could tell that he had his voice at a much greater volume than necessary in hopes of it being heard by anyone within earshot, she was after all at his side and neither deaf or incredibly old.

She didn't mind though, what difference would it really make to her if the maids and whatnot talked. It wasn't like any of that really mattered. The only time it might become an issue if if it somehow made it's way up to their royal highnesses and keepers of this house. Though from what she had heard of the younger prince's escapades they were in no place to become angered at such a matter. Besides, if that did come about she was sure she could explain the simple misunderstanding and it wouldn't prove to be much of a problem. So for now, it was just fun; a little game of sorts.

Isabelle found herself coming to a halt once they were through the doorway into the dining hall of the Mederva Palace. The hand on her back had been applying -a soft amount of- pressure as they walked and James moved himself along at her side so when he came to a halt the hand was almost invisible at her back causing her to almost instinctively stop along with it. Though she was almost glad to have the hand gone, it had been tolerable, though not entirely comfortable; at least by her part anyway, but then again she also wasn't used to being touched outside of a hand on her arm.

"My dear friend!" Ah that explained it. He knew the man seated at the table, and obviously quite well from the way they spoke to one another. The other had even referred to the king as simply James. Isabelle knew quite well that in their sort of circle first names were reserved for close friends and family. The only people to whom she was ever just Isabelle were her parents. To everyone else she was 'your highness' or 'princess' or something of that sort.

"My apologies, your highness. I do not believe I have had the honour yet, and my companion is apparently both terribly rude and impossible at introductions." She chided in James' direction. She assumed he could only have been the esteemed Prince of Shahari whom she had overheard had arrived but had yet to actually meet the man. "In lieu of that however, I would be delighted to join you. The chance of such a meal is one I cannot pass up." She found herself sliding into a chair near the prince.

She soon found herself graced with a plate of fruits and a small bowl of oatmeal. She picked through the fruit with her fork before settling on a raspberry and piercing it with the fork and lifting it gingerly to eat it. She did not fill the gap of silence that breached the air though. She much preferred to just listen during the beginnings of most conversations. It was always best to go into one knowing to whom you are speaking before actually speaking. And though she had a potentially deadly tongue, often what could be even worse was her sheer silence.

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Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: Lyanna du Lac Character Portrait: Malik Falmari Character Portrait: James Bandeaux Character Portrait: Su'da
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James Henry-Ernest Bandeaux
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James grinned at Malik as he was engaged in his boisterous way of speaking. He had not forgotten the beautiful Isabelle, no, but he hadnā€™t thought it necessary to introduce the two. Though he supposed after her little comment he should have. Truly, even after being specially trained to be one of the most honorable kings James still failed in some ways.

Not wanting to show his slight embarrassment at not introducing the Princess he merely just rolled his eyes and added his own little comment to the mix. Two could play at this game, and whatever sweet talk they had earlier was quickly turning into a bitter and sarcastic humor. ā€œYou really are a Princess, arenā€™t you? Needing always a man to introduce you.ā€ Though he was not his strongest jab, it would do for now. There would be plenty of time at the ball to get under her skin.

It wasnā€™t that James wanted to irritate Isabelle; it was just a matter of dominance over her. He had heard that she was terribly sharp and extremely independent but he wasnā€™t quite expecting this. Perhaps coming back at her wasnā€™t such a brilliant idea.

ā€œBut of course!ā€ James said in a cheery manner to Malik. He would gladly share breakfast with such a fine royal man. In fact, if James had a choice of which royal blood he would wish to dine with Malik would be at the top of the list. Not only did that man come from an intricate and unique country, but he himself was very complex and interesting. There was a lot more than meets the eye with Malik, and perhaps he even had the words that James needed to resolve his conflicts.

After sitting down next to Malik and across from Isabelle he was served a platter of some morning bread, meat bits, and a couple of fruit. He thanked the servant simply and then began eating at a leisurely pace. James almost always ate slowly; he enjoyed food and thought it best to really indulge in whatever he was eating. Unlike his father, who ate his food as quickly as possible in order to get to more kingly business, James took time at his meals.

After swallowing a bit of sweet bread James patted his mouth with a napkin and said, ā€œMy affairs here are simple.ā€ in response to the Princeā€™s comment. He explained his visit to the Medervan castle in one vague sentence, ā€œThey are my kin and I am in dire need of a place to deal with the demons.ā€ It was an obvious place to get away from his worries for a moment. While he was here he could see clearly what really had to be done for his kingdom and what else he needed to do in order to have a firm footing as the king.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Giselle Angelou Character Portrait: Isabelle Marcot Character Portrait: Ephraim de Montefort Character Portrait: Malik Falmari Character Portrait: Sophia Van Alstine Character Portrait: James Bandeaux
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#, as written by Guest


Malik Falmari




The smile left Malikā€™s mouth, but never his eyes, as Isabelle spoke, and he found himself quite pleasantly amused indeed but the cut of this oneā€™s jib, to use a sailing idiom he was rather fond of. She was smarter than she let on, what with the observational silence and the gumption to introduce herself rather than wait on someone else to do it. Boldness was a trait that Shahari men tended to favor in women, and in this, Malik did not consider himself an exception. His mother was, after all, the boldest of them all, and look at all she had done for the country.

ā€œI assure you,ā€ he said in response to her introduction, ā€œthe delight is just as much mine.ā€ Heā€™d never say it was all his, of course, because he was indeed a rather pleasant person to speak with, and that was no accident.

Less reserved than his counterpart was the Effemagne King, which of course Malik had rather expected. There was something very forthright about James, a quality he shared with Ephraim. He knew them both about equally as well, and Elijah in similar measure, though forthright would not be the correct term there, exactly. In all the wheeling and dealing countries did with one another, the royal children always became involved at some point, and it was better to know than to guess.

He was unsurprised that James was here to take the edge off, so to speak. Being a king was not an easy thing, and frankly, Malik was glad that responsibility was not yet his, may his mother live another fifty years. Always the attentive listener, he chewed over his repast thoughtfully and nodded. ā€œAnd frightful demons there seem to be everywhere, these days. Lurking about in shadows and looming above our heads. The specter of war, of course, but there are more subtle pressures as well, and they no less ponderous, no?ā€

His eyes slid to Isabelle, though he directed the question at both. There were a few possible reasons for her own presence, but the most obvious was the one he hinted atā€”the pressure to wed. It was one that his court now and then tried to foist off on him, but he had ever been an independent spirit, and not inclined to do things just because the court thought it wise or best or what-have-you.



Ephraim de Montefort




Were Ephraim a lesser man, he would perhaps have refused to even consider this new complication. The palace was already almost full to bursting with foreign guests, refugee noblemen and women from the Western Provinces, some of them cowards whoā€™d refused to do their duty to their (presently nonexistent) king and defend their lands before fleeing. That was not necessarily a crime to lay at the Countessā€™s feetā€”she looked less a warrior than he did a prince at the moment, and that was saying something. But it was frustrating all the same, that just when his troubles seemed to be multiplying too fast to keep up with, another should blossom in his path.

But he was no lesser man than himself, and so he did the only thing his honor would allow him to do: he offered the poor woman asylum. ā€œYou say you have great need to get to the castle, milady. Then to the castle you will go, and if you have need to speak with me specifically, you may air your worries on the way.ā€ He glanced momentarily between himself and Giselle, then decided that his horse was probably the stronger, and so offered her a hand up to ride behind him.

ā€œForgive, if you would be so kind, the lack of decorum, Countess, but Iā€™m afraid time is short and matters are urgent.ā€ Hopefully she wouldnā€™t fly into a fussā€”heā€™d known more than a few noblewomen who adhered to the letter of etiquette so tightly they managed to forget the intent. If she was insistent, she could ride with Giselle, but they needed to get back to the castle, and soon. He had a feeling, somewhere in his gut, that whatever tidings she brought were related to the warā€”it was evident in the defeat she wore like so many others of her peers wore pride. It cloaked her, weighing down her words and her shoulders in the way only the darkest of tidings could, and he did not envy her that.