Vendettas & Vaticide :: Med/Fant ASoIaF-style

[Lady Grifter]

{ Gaia Vatrix, sole child of Isolden and Ishbell|Twenty-eight|Female|Currently: Speaking with Caeca}

Green eyes, patched with hazel, stared out into the castle gardens as Gaia crossed her legs. The young monarch perched on the railing of her balcony, watching the rain and biding her time as guests gathered in their finest clothes to attend the Gala. She wore a dress of crimson material that hugged her body to reveal the soft curves of her figure and fluttered in waves behind her gliding steps. Her ebony hair was held up in an intricate mass of braids, cradled in a net of golden ivy, allowing for a few stray locks of hair to curtain over her shoulder in elegant curls. She ran her slender fingers through her hair, before sliding off of the railing onto the stone flooring and starting for the dining hall.
The young monarch walked with a graceful glide to her step almost as if walking on air rather that the stone floor below. She held herself like a queen and greeted all those around her with a smile that rivaled Helen of Troy in its radiance.
"Ah, magi Caeca, how fortunate you should attend," she greeted the woman with a frozen smile, taking her in for the first time since her father's death. "I've not your courage to bare my face after such sour endings to your rise and then to waken, properly, alone once more," Gaia spoke softly, almost kindly, as if sharing the evening's gossip with a dear friend rather than taunting an enemy on her scars, both physical and mental, of war. A slender hand, coloured like porcelain rose to touch the garnet that hung from her throat on a gold chain made to resemble the crafted ivy that adorned her hair.

[akitcougar]

Lord Reydrik Anaton, Spymaster :: "Thirty-Six" :: Current appearence {Black shoulder length hair, blue eyes, muscular but not overly so} :: Preparing

Reydrik regarded himself in the floor-length mirror in front of him. Black hair that fell to his shoulders, ice blue eyes, well-built muscles, and several scars. All in all, he looked nothing like himself. In fact, he looked like-

"My dearly beloved brother," he remarked to his servant, his voice filled with sarcasm and disdain. He frowned. The necklace always returned to his twin's image, no matter what he wanted to change into. His twin's appearance always aged with Reydrik, despite having died at nineteen.

"I think it... you look fine, m'lord," the servant said, eyes down towards the floor.

Reydrik sent the servant a death glare. "Dark blue cloak, lion's head brooch, grey tunic," he ordered. The servant scurried and returned with the clothes promptly.

Changed into his clothes, Reydrik looked at his reflection once more. "Send in the mockingbird."

The servant left, and a different man stepped in. "Yes, sir?" the new man asked. He wore brown and black leather armor and a dark cloak. He looked like most of the guards Reydrik employed. The only exceptional thing about his appearance was a silver mockingbird that was hidden on the inside of his collar.

"Make sure I have men throughout the room tonight. I want two mockingbirds watching every potential candidate. Have them all report to me tomorrow with their opinions on the potential rulers. I will be interacting each of them in turn, as well." Eighteen years under Isolden had been... Interesting, to say the least. Redurik, however, wanted a different type of ruler now, one who would listen to the Lord of Lies.

The mockingbird, one of Reydrik's many spies, bowed respectfully to his master and left to complete the orders.

Reydrik, alone, took his knifebelt from his side table and put it on. In addition to the two on his belt, he slipped a knife down each of his boots and hid another behind his back. While he never enjoyed slicing a man's throat himself, he preferred to be prepared rather than leave everything to his mockingbirds.

He smirked, an odd expression on his brother's face. A last minute adjustment of the lion's head brooch that held his cloak on, and he left his personal chambers.

"Let the games begin," he murmured to himself. "And may the best ruler win."

[Quoth the Raven]

(I am so sorry! My writer's block is terrible right now..)

Zephaniah traveled down the hall, greeting his wife with a smile as he tucked her arm into his. "You look marvelous darling." He stood dressed in a silk tunic of green material and black trousers with boots of fine leather that reached up to his knees.
Beside him, Celine soon appeared in a dress of matching emerald material that showed off more of her body than it seemed to cover. Her auburn hair folded in ringlets over her shoulders bringing a great contrast to the hue of her dress. "Are we all ready?" She inquired, greeting Giselle with a solemn smile.
The prince gave a short nod before pausing to glance over his shoulder for the Lordling Yianni. "Perhaps not, where is your son off to?" He quirked a brow at his wife in inquiry at her son's absence.
"I shall wait for the Lordling while you proceed to the Gala. One would not wish to be late to his own celebration." Celine offered in hesitance, turning to watch the halls for the Lording.

[peppersdots]

Giselle Dairamore

42
Married.
Heading to Ball.
Frustrated.

"My son is his own man, accountable for his tardiness," Giselle said straightening her back at Celine. She was somewhat indifferent to her, but did not approve of her dress at all. She made her gaze softer as she turned to Zephaniah. "But he will be here, I can assure you. If someone want's to wait for him, then that is up to them to decide. He will be here." Her mind raced as she hoped ever so dearly that Yianni would show up soon. She smoothed her green skirts and played with one of her golden earrings and the gold brooch that was pinned at her shoulder absentmindedly. She turned to Zephaniah after a quick glance down the hallways, looking in vain for her son, and smiled in a way that a good wife should. "Are we going to head off then?" she said in a milder manner.

[Lady Sabine]

Oh, how she loathed that woman. There were words to describe her feelings that would be more accurate, but they were not words that would ever leave her lips in polite company, and polite company was where they found themselves now. Caeca was a fool in many ways, but she was a clever and scheming fool, and would rise to the woman's challenge on her own terms- and win, if she had her way.
"Ah, Gaia, how lovely to see you again," The Archmage lied smoothly, her own smile twisted bitterly by scars, a grimace after a fashion, jaded and bitter and mocking. "You've changed so much, little princess. I've never known you to be forgetful, especially of titles, but I suppose all the stress of losing your beloved father and meeting your dear uncle must have strained your poor little head. Ah, well, no matter."
Her delicate hand reached out and smoothly lifted two flutes of champagne from a nearby sever's tray. "Let us start this new era with a toast, no?" She suggested, handing the other woman one of the servings. "To new beginnings, and the ends that allow them."

Ferox himself wandered towards the hallway, wondering where Yianni had gotten himself off to. His mother would surely be irked if he was tardy to a function; as little as he knew of the woman on a firsthand basis, he had heard many rumors of her near-obsession with detail and precision. The whispers among the mages had it that anyone late to her table would not be served, that seamstresses who dared deliver her dresses late went unpaid. Of course, who knew where fact ended and rumor began? Surely the woman could not live up to her full and terrible reputation.
Then again, Yianni certainly respected her, and he felt himself obligated to extend some sliver of faith to her, if only for the boy's sake. The boy, he called him, though in truth just a year separated them and Ferox was two inches the smaller. It was the title of Lordling, perhaps, or his youthful appearance, but somehow the Magi could not help but feel somewhat protective, as though Yianni were indeed just a boy.
His tardiness, in spite of the inconvenience, he found strangely adorable. It was a sign of affection, he supposed with a weary heart, that he now found even flaws endearing.

[Lady Grifter]

"These titles you speak of hold no relevance to me, as they are serif-given, rather than earned. Where you stride in name, you lack in blood. I'm speaking to not a queen before me, but merely a spoiled concubine, at best. I'd rather see my uncle to the throne than my father's toffer." Gaia replied withthe sweetest of smiles, accepting the flute but not daring a sip as they spoke. Her eyes briefly searched the crowd for the lieutenant while she awaited a retort. These were games she'd grown used to in childhood, but nostalgia was not a welcome guest between them.
The woman, still a child in her eyes, she loathed gave her little comfort in such exchanges, but despite all else the familiar company made to be a suitable pass-time.
"And to the endings that follow those in dire need of such." She delicately raised her glass, watching the mage. "Gods know two of us will find such endings." She murmured the last bit with a wry smile. Death wasn't something she feared, but the inevitable hung in like a swinging blade over their heads should one effectively take the throne.

[Lady Sabine]

Caeca laughed, a high-pitched, strangely pleasant sound that contrasted sharply with her voice, which was lower and filled with venom. "You have it quite confused, you stupid cow," The Archmage mentioned, her eyes burning with a cold fire. "I give myself nothing and earn everything. I was made Archmage by the council of the Magi, same as your fath- oh, wait. That's right. He was not elected but stole the title himself. You have the blood of a tyrant in you, little girl, but you have the shallow end of the gene pool. Where is the awe-inspiring magic? Where is the force of personality strong enough to take down kingdoms? Where is the vast intellect that could learn a shelf of books in a day? You have his blood, but that is all you can claim. And what of your royal blood? Zephaniah's claim is far better than yours. Your father stole the throne from him... and, in spite of his cruelty, was a great king indeed. Great enough to see that you were no heir of his, and to find a better one."
She drained the flute of champagne in one sip, and set the glass on a different tray, a little smile on her lips. "Your day was under your father's shadow. Zephaniah's day was leading a rebellion. My day is just dawning. Can you see it there, climbing up the East horizon? I shall burn with the radiance of a thousand mortal suns," She declared, her voice soft and eyes glittering with excitement and madness. In some ways, she had undergone a complete transformation since she left- and in so many ways she had not changed at all.

[Lady Grifter]

{ Gaia Vatrix, sole child of Isolden and Ishbell|Twenty-eight|Female|Currently: Speaking with Caeca}

"Now, now, be kind, I was only stating the truth, and name-calling is beneath even you." Gaia replied discarding her half-finished flute. Champagne never appealed to her, even after many years of indulgence. Truly, she preferred the small ales of the lower class. "As for my own status, I've nothing to prove to the likes of you. My lack in magic is utter proof of my royal blood. You seem to forget that my father claimed the crown through marriage rather than blood." She spoke softly, calmly, with the same regal smile as always "and may I remind you, that that tyrant was, at best, your lover. Skin as pale as snow," She caressed the woman's cheek almost teasingly.
"And hair as black as a raven's feather. Everyone tells me I look exactly like my mother because of these two traits; traits you happen to share. Take a moment to think about that and realize something. My father didn't want you for your power or your intelligence. He was simply trying to replace his lost princess. My forgotten uncle even discarded you as soon as he could. You aren't a queen or even a noblewoman. You're the royal family's discarded toy. They played with you until you broke and then tossed you away." With that she turned on her heel, leaving the woman without awaiting her retort to find her uncle. This evening seemed to be in place to fawn over the Spymaster, but she held no interest in berating him with bribes or attempted charm. She was entirely content to simply wait for him to come to her, if he desired as such.

[akitcougar]

Lord Reydrik Anaton, Spymaster :: "Thirty-Six" :: Current appearance {Black shoulder length hair, blue eyes, muscular but not overly so} :: Entering the castle gardens

"M'lord," a mockingbird said as he appeared by Reydrik's side. His pin was golden, rather than silver, indicating a Captain. "Last I checked, the princess and the archmage were trading barbed words in the gardens, and the prince is on his way." As silently as he approached, the spy left.

Nodding to himself, the spymaster ran through his list of what he wanted from the new ruler. A good listener, most definitely. Malleable, although they must appear to be a strong ruler. Or, perhaps, a weak-willed ruler is best, after the mess Isolden left me. Hmn, what to do, what to do, he thought to himself.

As he entered the castle gardens, he put on his most honest-looking face. "Who to start with," he murmured under his breath. Reydrik noticed the archmage and the princess. The princess was walking away from the archmage and towards Reydrik. The Lord of Lies smiled, his decision made for him.

"Ah, Princess Gaia," he greeted her, knowing full well she would not recognize him with his brother's face. He bowed respectfully, but not too much. No, don't want to favor one over the other yet. "What a pleasure to see you."

[Quoth the Raven]

Celine quirked a brow at the woman's immediate change in posture but shrugged it away. "I'd be happy to stay behind and escort your son as soon as he is ready." She repeated to Zephaniah who nodded and waved her away leading Giselle toward the Gala. The tall woman ran a hand through her hair staring down the hallway as she waited for the lordling. Her opinion of him remained indifferent as he posed no threat but didn't make any huge attempts to befriend her.

"He'll catch up soon enough darling." Zephaniah assured her as they walked. "Wouldn't want to be late, now would we?" He asked teasingly. Soon they reached the Gala and immediately, the Prince picked Caeca out from the crowd with practiced ease. He arched a brow in amusement upon sighting his niece with the mage. Gaia was still a mystery to him, mirroring his sister in appearance but matching her father's temper and intelligence. He'd have to regard her just as cautiously as the mage.