#there is great potential for tragedy for fane

[emerald-amidst-gold]

3, 6, 20 for the writing meta asks!

Why hello there! I won’t lie, I was, of course, extremely happy to see another ask in my ask box! Perfect thing to wake up to, and get the brain juices flowing! So, let’s do some answering! >:D

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3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

There’s one particular scene that’s actually been in my head for days, but of course, when I try to actually write it, my brain just fizzles out into the unknown. However, the scene I want to write and will have to write is Fane and Solas ‘reuniting’. More or less, when Solas finally realizes what and who Fane is and vice versa. It involves a lot of build up from previous chapters and scenes, and since those aren’t written yet I’m a little stuck on how to get it off the ground. I can share a few little concepts though that I did manage to write up!

“May I?”, Solas asked quietly and softly, carefully lifting a hand to hover near the aggravated gash. He would not touch it unless Fane explicitly stated that it was amenable. He would do no more harm than he had already.

There was a long pause, the two of them sitting practical inches from each other until Solas heard a sound between a growl and huff exit past sealed lips. That had a small smile working its way onto his face. How painfully nostalgic that sound was to him, like rolling thunder during a downpour..

“Hmph.”, Fane huffed out again before jerking his head lightly to indicate that it was fine, but he could see how a serpentine jaw locked up instinctively. 

Solas frowned slightly at that before shifting a bit closer, not ignoring how the other tensed up even more as he let his palm rest against the seeping wound. 

To have such adverse reactions.. How much have you had to suffer due to my rashness? A heavy, crushing feeling bore down on Solas’s heart--it was like a spiked cage was closing in around it, threatening to puncture and leave him to bleed out. He did not know all of what happened surrounding the Herald’s early life, but he had witnessed the man’s sensitivity to magic, watched as a normally proud and dominating form crumbled into no more than weak shivers and suffocating retching. He had also, during a moment of childish weakness, caught glimpses of magically burnt, jagged patchwork scars along an uncommonly naked arm--the skin, for once, having been freed to breathe and scream. Solas had not been close enough to see more, at the time, but the severity, the deepness of those torn segments he had seen, and the fact that Fane’s body was covered neck to waist in leather wraps told him then that strong arms were not the only place such...familiar, but gruesome scars existed.

The scars upon his arms, and most likely his entire body… They are indicative of what his kin had endured, but how…? Solas felt his frown deepen further upon that thought before refocusing on the wound marring a porcelain visage, which was as hard as stone as it peered into his own. He would have to think on those aspects later. He would get no answers while Fane refused to speak to him, and it would do neither of them favors to speculate. 

Solas gingerly swiped a thumb along the crimson gash on Fane’s cheek, involuntarily hushing the man softly when a light hiss escaped tight lips. The wound would scar, no matter how much healing Fane would allow. It was deep, nearly piercing through the thin skin of a cheek, and Solas had done that. In self defense, yes, but he had still caused damage.

He had caused harm due to an inability to stay. away.

He must suffer another scar because I was blind. He cannot not wrap this one. He cannot hide it from sight to make its deepness feel more shallow. I have marked him, in two ways, and neither are kind.. The weighty thought flitted through his mind before Solas blinked as he felt and watched Fane lightly lean into his touch, gold glittering in emerald despite the dimness of the cave as those eyes narrowed a bit from both stinging pain of a wet wound and, dare he say, contentment from a century absent gesture. 

That had Solas’s smile turning sad as he absently stroked under a brilliant golden emerald eye, unphased by the two toned hue that encompassed a blackened pupil as it met his gaze unflinchingly. How had he not seen it before? The truth was always staring at him--figuratively and physically. Why had he averted his own gaze? To hide? To run? Or was it to protect? He knew not. However, he did know, from the way a warm, but crushing feeling wrapped around his entire soul was a truth that could never be denied for fear of justifiable rage--for fear of punishment for mistakes so grave as to render a vow completely moot.

“...I missed you.”, Solas whispered against his better judgement and earlier thoughts, watching as Fane’s pupil widened a bit before it trembled slightly with emotion, the emerald within the iris deepening to drown out brilliant gold. He had to close his eyes at that, a feeling of weightlessness and oncoming longing threatening to have him, too, drowning within emerald. “What am I saying? I have no right to have missed you, but I can’t.. No. I do not have the right..”, he murmured  in the next moment before lightly shaking his head, absently cupping Fane’s warm cheek more fully. 

There was no use dwelling upon his lack of foresight, for it was his own blindness that had shaded him from the truth--his own pride and fear. He had not wanted to believe there was hope, and he did not deserve to have such lofty ideas after what he had done. He deserved to wander about in darkness, happiers visions obscured while only ghostly apparitions haunted him beyond the Veil, clambering, clawing for a way out of the prison he had locked them in. This was nothing but a hopeful dream--one of many that constantly plagued him with falsities and--

“I missed you, too..”, a hoarse, exhausted, but distinct voice sounded, completely cutting off the wave of his thoughts to shove Solas’s mind back into reality before it came once again, quietly. “I’m sorry..”

Solas’s eyes shot open upon those words, ignoring the way he could feel the hand that rested upon Fane’s cheek trembling slightly to gaze into deep, deep emerald as it shook just as much with concealed emotion. No--no, this could not be real. He did not deserve for this to be real!

“Sorry? For what? I am the one that should be sorry..”, Solas stated with a deep frown, gaze flitting down to the hand that bore the Anchor--his magic. “I have shackled you without even rattling the chains before you myself. It is a sound you should never have known..”

Fane let out a tired sigh, shaking his head slowly with a tiny grimace. “You have never held them, Solas.”, he said before sighing again. “The chains were always there, and you weren’t the one to make me aware of their sound.”

“But the orb--the mark, it is..”

“Yours, I know, but it’s not the same. I remember the difference. Trust me.”, Fane said before leaning into his hand more. “I remember...everything. Well, mostly everything. Some parts are still fuzzy, but I know you, I know who or...what I am, I know the bond we held, and I know how I died..”

Solas couldn’t help but flinch at that last statement, almost retracting his hand until Fane reached up weakly to keep it in place. “Herald, I--”

The corner of Fane’s mouth twisted into a tired sneer. “Don’t recede into formality. I hate when you do that.”, he said before letting his hand fall back to the ground with a light thump. “Responding as if I’m a stranger to you is pointless.”

“How would you have me respond after all that has happened? Should I feel jubilant from the pain I have inflicted upon the world, upon my people--upon you? Should I ignore that all that has transpired and will transpire is my doing--my mistake?”, Solas questioned, a niggling of irritability born of mental exhaustion working its way into his voice. He was exceedingly growing weary due to not resting for more than several hours at a time, the two of them having to swap routinely for watch.

He watched Fane’s chest rise and fall heavily with another sigh before glittering eyes shut with equal weariness. Solas frowned at that. What had gotten into him? He was tired, yes, but so was Fane, and he had not just had his identity sundered like a torn blanket, only to be stitched back together again with completely different patchwork. He had also not just suffered having his mind nearly broken from magic so potent and so sickeningly familiar as to cause an age old frenzy to take hold without an ounce of hesitation. This whole ordeal was simply exhausting and unbelievable, even as proof practically...leaned against him?

Solas blinked, thoughts once again veering off a depressive trail as he felt a heavy, but warm weight resting itself on his shoulder. He turned his head a bit to see that Fane’s head had lulled forward to find a place to rest--eyes shut and snowy brows furrowed as if in some kind of discomfort.

“Fane..?”, he called out softly, tentatively reaching up to card a few fingers through snowy hair--the strands coated in a grey hue due to residual ash and dirt. 

Emerald made a reappearance as Fane cracked his eyes open, glancing up at him drearily before starting to shift as if to move away. “Sorry.. I was--”

Solas quickly, perhaps too quickly, shook his head, weaving his fingers into dirty hair to gently guide the other to stay put. He should not do this, but...he couldn’t help it. Against his better judgement, Solas let his own head come to carefully rest upon the side of Fane’s before he shut his eyes--an instant wave of contentment filling in the void of his soul.

“Rest. We will speak more of this at a better time.”, he commanded quietly, smiling a bit as he felt the other relax his tensed up form. “I can tell you are exhausted still.”

“So are you..”, Fane muttered, his voice rumbling pleasantly which had Solas letting out a quiet hum. How he had missed that sound, even when it had had no voice to go along with it..

“I will wake you in a few hours. I can manage until then.”, he said softly before absently stroking through silky strands of white. He couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at the texture. How was it, that despite the grime and despairing ash, there was still a softened quality to the dragon’s hair? Perhaps that said something about Fane himself..

“Mm..”, a content hum reached Solas’s ears, the small smile upon his face growing by a fraction before he felt warmth and strength wrap around the rest of his body in the form of two tired arms. He tensed a bit before he realized what was happening; Fane was hugging him--holding him as if Solas would suddenly disappear..

He shifted his head a bit to gaze down at where Fane was resting against him, his heart growing tight upon a matching frown etched into a pale face. Oh, my dragon. I only cause you harm, so why do you continue to tempt more? And why can I not dissuade it? His mind questioned before his own arms came up to wrap around Fane’s shoulders, tangling a hand into snowy, short locks. 

He should not do this. He should not give false hope and promises to someone who deserved better, but it was like a tidal wave of longing, of yearning, and of grief had suddenly come crashing into him--slamming him against the rocks, wet and spent from fighting the tide. He wanted to drown in a sea of emerald and gold…

“Ma’isenatha..”, Solas whispered out the Elvhen without a shred of hesitation, even as his mind practically screamed for him not to. “Ma’isenatha..”, he said once more as he buried his face into Fane’s neck, the man’s own arms tightening around him to pull closer.

Obviously, there will have to be one hundred percent more context and soul searching, but I’m mainly just playing around with ideas of how both Solas and Fane will handle the situation. Like I’ve said before, I don’t see them avoiding each other, even with Solas constantly stating he’ll only cause Fane harm. Fane isn’t made of glass and Solas knows that, and he also knows that Fane has a place upon this particular chess board, but not as a pawn, but more along the lines of a rook or a knight. Fane’s involvement is essential to Solas, even if he’s not happy about it since it could end the same way it did before. It also helps that Fane is stubborn and as his abilities reawaken, he can back Solas into a corner to make the man face what he’s fearful of. That was Fane’s role as a dragon, after all. To guide emotion and unclog the dams of them so they could flow freely in a realm where emotion and imagination were the world’s very foundation. But again, this is just a concept of what could potentially happen after Haven, so it may change later on when I finally get there! 

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

In terms of my OCs, it’s obviously Fane since I can still find ways to evolve his character and add on to what I already have established. In terms of those not of my own creation, I would say Solas. He’s easy for me to write, to formulate thoughts about. I think it all boils down to the fact that, in a certain way, he and Fane are parallels. There’s evidence in canon, of course, to support the Inquisitor is a mirror for Solas, but I took that a bit further. I also wanted to explore the emotions, that I believe, Solas would showcase with someone he not only knew before the Veil was erected, but loved in a forbidden way. I will never tire of making Solas melt over Fane and vice versa. There’s not enough softness in the world, so I seek to rectify that! >:3

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I’m a slut for symbolism. Yes, I said it, I’m a slut for it. The whole reason I have focused so heavily on eyes in my fics is because eyes are the gate way to the soul. Fane can see into that window with his abilities and even without them depending on how open a person is, and it allows him to properly communicate without offending. It’s more or less a way of saying, ‘If you just look at someone, truly look at them, then you don’t need words to understand them. You can see the pain, the happiness, the sorrow, the whispered love without ever uttering a single word.’ That’s the whole basis of Solas and Fane’s relationship, and how it even formed in the first place. I mean, how else do you think a Elvhen god and a dragon became friends, and then lovers? It took a lot, I’m not gonna lie, but Fane is Solas’s heart and Solas is Fane’s sky. A heart and sky don’t need words; they only need someone to listen to the beat or gaze upwards to the clouds. Fane and Solas from the start, as two elves, synchronize with each other as if their souls are greeting each other without their physical forms knowing. You might say, ‘Well, wouldn’t Solas clue in after watching Fane? Or wouldn’t he know from his eyes?” 

Yes and no. The eyes throw Solas off, but he doesn’t focus on them because the memory of them belonging to another is too painful. This is another way of me saying, ‘If you don’t face the truth, it will remain hidden to you, but the pain it harbors in its very shadows will not. It will stalk you, it will taunt you, and it will tear you apart from the inside until you look.’ Solas denies his heart, even as it beats before him, from a fear of foolish hopes being mere dreams, and a grief that is so aged from hands died with draconic blood and magical chains. Fane turns his potent gaze from the sky, even as blue eternity stretches before him with love and understanding, for fear of turning it grey as he is and trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care even though he cares so much. It’s tragic in its own way, but I visualize a happy ending or at least bittersweet one.

There’s also a very heavy focus on color, primarily grey. This is physical in some way to Fane, things look muted to him or take on a greyish hue, but overall, its how he views the world at present. It’s grey, not black and white. Same things happen for different reasons and sometimes neither of them are good and neither of them are bad. Fane views the world in grey because that’s how he feels on a daily basis. He’s grey because he doesn’t know who he is or what race he should answer to. His existence is not black and white and sometimes, he wishes it were because it would be easier to accept. Those feelings lessen over time as Fane reconciles with the fact that he’s a dual creature with experiences spanning two lifetimes and two races, but the world’s greyness doesn’t lessen for him because between all the political intrigue, war, corruption, and ignorance, there’s red, crimson. As much as grey can make Fane feel hollow and out of place, red is another ball game--a terrifying one that houses inevitability and every time a noble topples peasant and opponent alike for personal gain, every time a plain of nature is destroyed for expansion, every time magic is used as a dominating influence rather than a ritualistic one, every. time. a dragon is erased permanently from a world that sorely needs them, that angry hue paints Fane’s vision and hands where there was otherwise indifference. And once again, it is inevitable, those happenings simply spur it to climb faster and faster. What is it, you ask? Well, I think we all have an idea. 

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Thank you for the ask and apologies for it being so loooong! You chose the question for me to ramble and I ramble ramble ramble! >:3

[fanesavin]

The day following the Quiver meeting the Driftwood Princes, Grand Lady Cassandra and Lady Ciara walk to town to find a measure of the reaction to the passing of the High Raj and instil some hope. Meanwhile, rumours stir.

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (x) | (x) Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 (x) (x) | Part 7 | Part 8  (x) ]

@bumblingbrujo / @ianncardero / @cassiegermaine / @thatwhichbindsus

The announcements were scribed, and given to the Inquisitor to read over and give his sign-off. The first paperwork of the High Inquisition; but important paperwork, nonetheless. Because words were just as powerful as anything else, to set the tone of a city waiting on tenterhooks for news from the Bluesprings Castle.

Prince Iann and Grand Lady Cassandra spent the night working on making two announcements, to be read out loud in the piazzas and markets, and also posted side by side on walls, boards, and doors around the city. Extra enforcement was supplied by various Houses to stand by as the announcements were made, but to assume a more casual stance depending on what part of the city they were in.

The announcements were twofold: one to state the death of the High Raj. It was not stated as murder, but a tragic death that should be greatly mourned by all during a Three-day period of grief wherein the people observe the rites of mourning, visit the Cloverry often for alms, and wait for the funeral to open the city up again. A curfew has been implied. The second announcement was that a second Inquisition had now been instated in the Capital by the High Inquisitor of the North and Dawnguard Commander, Stefan Savin. The Inquisition swore to remain in power only until a new High Raj was found. As Avitej had no heirs and there was no one else in House Sharma suited to rule, it was a given that the Inquisition had to look elsewhere for this resolution to be carried out. But there was a strong assurance and guarantee that they would indeed get a High Raj, and unification of Bluesprings, and peace in the realm.

It was expected, natural really for fights and skirmishes to break out. Minor lords and wealthy members of the merchants in the Upper City gathered at the closed Gates of the Keep, believing it was some haven there and frightened that the commoners might try to take advantage of the tragedy. Those Lower City tested their limits to see how much they could get away with in the chaos. The people who lived on the outskirts of the Capital continued their daily slog - fishing and farming and defending their lands from brigands, but wary of being plunged once more into this world of uncertainty and potential upheaval.

Within the confines of the Bluesprings Keep, the nobles actually do put in the work to achieve these goals. Despite the chaos, they have progressed and accomplished a lot - if one counted preserving lives as an accomplishment. Some in the Keep do, while others couldn't care less; but the point was that war was still a nightmareish memory that no one wanted to return to.

NOTE: the Gates are not officially open, but nobles do have the option of venturing out independently (with guards etc) into other parts of the city. They must return to the Keep afterwards though; please do not let your characters gather & remain outside the Keep! Thank you!~

The bells tolled constantly now, or at least it seemed that way. Iann was vaguely unfamiliar with the Rites of Mourning in the Capital, but he found some servant to fetch him a tome on such policy soon enough, skimming it over. Bells and Cloverry solemnity and the Upper City wore black, while everyone else wore black armbands and generally wandered around looking very sad. Fish and venison were the only meats allowed, pig and poultry forbidden, not that most people could afford anything more than fish anyway, so their diets would hardly have to change unless they were being particularly pious. The merchants and artisans were trying to out-do each other with their demonstrations of mourning and piety. The sale of candles and death-paper went up - a paper that one burned to ashes while saying prayers, and the ashes were then written onto the person's skin. It was all just traditional nonsense to Iann, but it kept people busy and occupied in between their daily lives. The presence of soldiers helped as well, of course. Although he'd heard already of House soldiers getting into a fight here and there - not the commonfolk, but the soldiers themselves. Iann wanted to leave, badly. He stood at one of the balconies overlooking the city, giving him a beautiful view of his own five ships in the harbour. Five more would join them by tonight, creating a strong presence around the city's coast, and of course indirectly competition for the fishermen who fished these coasts. His men needed to eat too, after all.

Tuah held himself back during the early investigation, preferring to listen rather than voicing his opinion when it was unnecessary. With Fane leading the investigation, he felt he had nothing else to contribute, other than perhaps be a sound board for the High Inquisitor to bounce his ideas on. The councils were already pointed, and he had no doubt that they would take this opportunity to show their prowess, being the first few that offered their armies. He couldn’t spare his army, feeling that they were better be put to use guarding his own small country than the chaos in the capital. So he was left alone to his own device for now, until it was required for him to play nice with other Houses once more. His gaze fell onto the crown and the throne on the dais, the sun shone brightly behind it just as it did yesterday. But instead of filling him with hope, it only made him mourn on the things of what could have been. He heaved a quiet sigh and slowly made his way towards the throne, gently placing his hand on the frame, his head bowed.

"Here," Ciara said, carefully pinning the hem of a young servant girl in the corner of the courtyard. It had blood stains from the high Raj on it, from cleaning up the drips of the throne room when he'd been carried away. She had no other clothes, but Ciara had enough skill to notice that the young girl had been trying to hide it, and was miserable in her failing. A moment's kindnes might cost her the court's opinion, but often enough her face was enough for that. Her silence did the rest. "Clean your face, and you'll be fit for service." This was not one of her mice, but to be seen helping someone random made her own spies more loyal. Besides, it was an easy distraction. She smiled kindly as the maid wiped her tears and curtsied, and hurried down out of the courtyard, but her face fixed in the position, her mind slipping out of focus as she stared at the now closing door.

Movement in the courtyard below the balcony caught Iann's eye, and it took a moment for him to recognize Lady Ciara down there, attending to some servant girl. The girl was sobbing - most of the servants were, they clearly loved the High Raj and this new installation of the Inquisition so suddenly in the Castle threw all their working systems and loyalties into a tizzy - but the Lady seemed to be comforting her, or reassuring her, or something. Iann was no fool; he knew servants were carriers of rumour and gossip, like an infectious plague that spread and shared between them until it either died away or the were all infected. The temperature of the servants was as important as the moods of the nobles who now stayed here. Still, he didn't move, observing Ciara as she seemed to be observing something hidden within the inside of her skull. He did cough though, loudly. Enough that it would echo in the courtyard below.

Ciara startled at the cough, and looked up at lord Iann above. It was no real cough, and there weren't many out there for him to be signalling. She looked up at him, squinting at the bright sunlight. There was no way for her to call back at him in a dignified way, so all she did was tilt her head, and walked to a spot out of the sun, on an ornate bench.

It looked to Iann as much of an invitation as he currently felt curious. Being locked up in the Keep was a good idea of course - especially as news trickled in on the state of the Capital. The Inquisitor might soon allow the Gates to open up again, but until then they were as much caged as the people out there were kept out. He disappeared from the balcony and came down to the courtyard. Iann paused a few feet away from where Lady Ciara still sat. "At this rate you might think that I'm purposely hunting you; but I assure you, Lady Ciara - you are no white-gold Whale of the West."

 "I don't know enough of the beast to understand the level of reassurance there, Lord Iann, but do not worry that I think you are hunting me. I simply assume that you are bored. No great adventures to be had." Ciara replied, with a calm, quiet demeanor. She was staring, again, into the distance. Over the city. It was impossible to find quiet in this place, never mind peace.

Miguel walked through the courtyard on his way to bring Faye and Danian more books and scrolls he had found that might be useful. He tried to walk through the courtyard as much as possible, he had the same wanderlust as his brother, and being locked up in a keep was keeping him tightly wound. The courtyard was an inkling of freedom, at least enough sunlight to warm his face, and enough breeze to clean his lungs. And of course, it helped to keep an eye on Iann. He was bothering the scarred lady and Miguel walked out of his straight line path to stand at his brother's side, knowing that his presence alone would annoy Iann, and taking enjoyment from that fact. "Hello Iann, hello Lady Ciara. I would say good-morning, but that might seem a little treasonous." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Still, the sun shines."

Cassie had collected the small pouch of coins and guards she would be needing for her visit out in the city. She stood out in the courtyard, waiting for one of the stable hands to bring her horse and Adeline's pony. The princesss had stood obidently next to her mother only for so long before a fountain captured her attention, and the girl with flaming red hair began tossing stones inside and dipping her hands in the water to retrieve them. Cassandra turned when she heard the soft sobs, and frowned seeing the maid and Ciara. She took a step forward, but then her brother in law announced himself from the balcony and Cassie could only stare up at him, "Don't fib to the poor girl. You have some vipor about you."

"Still the sun shines," Iann replied slowly, as he watched Miguel approach with that respectful but infuriatingly earnest way. He'd dimmed his chipperness out of respect of course, but somehow still managed to come off as pleasant even during mourning. It was irritating. Sure of course people had varying degrees of actual grief for the High Raj - the shock Iann felt from the murder had faded fast; his prevention of chaos in the streets was a strategic move, nothing particularly to do with the High Raj's honor. Plus in retrospect it was satisfying to slaughter that Sharma Herald. People even commended Iann for his actions after all. But Miguel managed to make his strategy far more effortless. Arms folded and one hand tapping at his chin, Iann turned and spotted Cassandra in riding clothes. "Where are you going, Grand Lady? With the Princess?"

Arin had nearly chewed his thumbnail down to the bone. Every sound, every scrape of a boot or cough in the distance had him on edge. The corridor was little used, mostly housing random bits of furniture or things stuck there and forgotten. "I'm telling you, it'll be us next. Just you wait,' he whispered to his companion. "That fucking fool acted on his own and now he's got the gods damned Inquisitor to deal with..."

Cassie blinked at Iann's question, tilting her head slightly to the side. She motioned between her and Adeline still at the fountain, "Why we're going out to console and provide alms to the people. It was your suggestion at yesterday's Quiver after all. As we all try to keep the pieces together behind castle walls, the people will want to see from one of us."

Iann smiled, grim amusement. "It was my suggestion to provide alms. It was your idea to go yourself and extend your hand with grace and charity." He saw that his Knight Harrison was waiting there as well, ready to guard Cassandra and the little Princess. "After that kidnapping attempt from Kesley yesterday, it would seem quite brave of you to go out there for the people..." And there was still supposedly a kidnapper out there, the one his knives didn't strike. He made a decision then. "Very well, I shall accompany you." He turned to Lady Ciara and bowed. "It seems adventure's found me after all."

Elia held onto Arin's arm as they walked, "m'lady isn't impressed... I overheard her and Lord Kesley consider his imprisonment a slight on their honour." She shook her head, "he acted on his own but was he wrong?" She lowered her voice more conspiratorial "they've let witches and wolfmen through the gates... Have they all lost their wits?"

"Lord Cardero," she greeted Miguel with a soft smile, finding herself suddenly with even less peace than before. "If the sun were to stop for us then we would know the end was truly coming." She looked to Queen Cassandra and Adelina, tilting her head in admiration. "It will do the people good," she agreed. Adeline had been at each meeting until now - courtesy of a protective mother, and yet Ciara couldn't help marvel at the little wonder. Pristine and Beautiful, and would remember none of this, if they resolved it now.

Iann smiled, grim amusement. "It was my suggestion to provide alms. It was your idea to go yourself and extend your hand with grace and charity." He saw that his Knight Harrison was waiting there as well, ready to guard Cassandra and the little Princess. "After that kidnapping attempt from Kesley yesterday, it would seem quite brave of you to go out there for the people..." And there was still supposedly a kidnapper out there, the one his knives didn't strike. He made a decision then. "Very well, I shall accompany you." He turned to Lady Ciara and bowed. "It seems adventure's found me after all."

Miguel watched his brother go. "Stay safe," he said lightly. He had plans for Iann yet - and time to enact them if he would be out with Cassandra and Adeline. "Very true, Lady Ciara." Miguel glanced up at the blue sky. "Though it's comforting, is it not? The sea and sky don't care much for what we do above or below them."

"It is a slight to their honor," Arin said lowly. "And m'lady is never impressed on the best of days. Let alone when someone moves without her say. Gods..." Arin made a disgusted sound. "Wrong? For acting alone, yes. But for the rest, no. Someone has to show the people that there are monsters among us..."

"Safe travels, my lady," Ciara said, glancing to the guardsmen that came to accompany them. One little mouse amongst them all. She wished no such thing to lord Iann, but to watch him go left the strangest twinge in her stomach. Perhaps it was the events of the last days catching up with her. "It brings me no comfort," she told Miguel, watching as the gates began to open. "We are the ones who must live in our world, after all."

Cassie stared back at her brother for a moment and then smiled, "Very well, I'm sure Adeline will enjoy your company. You're ready now then?" She prompted, seeing a stable hand coming up the walk with a pair of mounts. Cassie quickly settled Adeline into her own small saddle before taking her mares riens and telling the stable hand to fetch another horse for Iann.

Iann gave a haughty and dismissive nod at his brother before following Cassandra back to the stables. He disliked horses in general, and he especially hated using a horse that wasn't his own. Iann waved his hand to dismiss the old nag being brought towards him. "I'll walk," he said shortly, staying beside Adeline's pony. He kept his hand on the pony's mane. A glance over his shoulder as they headed to the gate, towards Miguel and the Lady Ciara. Something about it left a sick bilious taste in the back of his throat, and Iann looked away. He was glad to turn his attention to keeping vigilance while Cassandra did her charitable acts among the commonfolk.

"No, she isn't but Josef never had much in terms of wits did he..." she gripped Arin's arm a little tighter leaning in as she spoke "I heard the witch burned his eyes right out of his head with her magic..." Elia made an equally disgusted noise frowning "and, what's worse it's not just one... but two witches they let sit on the council?"

"No, he didn't," Arin agreed. "Though it may fall in his favor if he can claim to be feeble-minded. Though I doubt he's that clever." Arin laid his hand over Elia's where she gripped his arm. His already wane features tightened. "Aye. I heard so as well." He lowered his voice, stopping to turn to Elia. "There /has/ to be some... enchantment at work there. Something that's... poisoning their minds. Clouding their judgements." He looked back down the corridor. "Don't you think it odd that the first ruler in ages was murdered in a room full of people... without a hand being laid on him? At the same time as two witches happen to be in the city? When was the last time you heard of such creatures? Let alone saw one?"

Cassie sighed at Iann's blatant dislike of the horses. She knew the man was used to ships and the sea, but a loyal mount really something valuble if he ever sought to give it the time. "Fine." Cassie waved her hand in dismissal, not caring how Iann tagged along, as long as they got started. While Cassandra was distracted with the task at hand (and occasionally fixing the toddlers posture on her pony) she noticed the weary glances Iann had back to the castle gates. "I see you and Miguel are getting along as well as ever." She commented sarcastically, trying to see if her brother would elaborate on his feelings at all.

Miguel pursed his lips. He could see what she meant, but he wanted to lighten her mood at least a little - to endear himself in some way to this enigmatic lady. She reminded him of Lady Lacroy, and he wondered if he had a problem with trying to ally to underdogs. "Is it no comfort at all when you think there is something that you can always depend on that does not rely upon you?" He shook his head. "When I'm weary of responsibility, it can be something to ground the mind and slow the tensing of the muscles."

Iann glanced up at Cassandra, wanting to trust her but when it came to matters of his brother, he was unable to trust anyone except his own people. "Which of us do you prefer? And don't pretend at being impartial - I know you must have a favourite. Everyone does," Iann stated, then pet Adeline's straight, laced-up back, as he smiled. "I know at least who her favourite is. Second only to her dear mother, of course. Isn't that right, Princess."

Cassie laughed when he asked who her favorite was. She thought about it for a moment before answering, "Your brother Juan, my dear husband." Which she knew was not the answer Iann was looking for, but her husband however absent, was one of the brothers. Besides, it kept her from chosing sides so blatantly. Adeline glanced back to Iann and smiled, before a few people moving just outside the castle gates caught her attention and she waved with a small shy smile, blue eyes wide as the streets and city continued to open to them.

"Perhaps if you phrase it like that," Ciara acquiesced, shifting in her seat slightly. "But the sun can be unforgiving." She looked up at him, with a flicker of amusement. "You sound like a healer. Relaxing the muscles is not something I'm well suited for. I would rather be out in the forests, but here we are. At least you have family to entertain you." Ciara knew full well that was incorrect - even her small observations of them showed endless squabbling.

Iann couldn't help but smile at Cassandra's answer. It was, after all, the perfect answer and once more confirmed to Iann the kind of person - and leader - Cassandra was. He watched as Adelina waved shyly to the people, who were naturally entranced by the child. Iann was tempted to indulge in the adulation as well, but it was good that he was on foot. He didn't want to be a part of this charistable show, so much as an escort to the Queen and Princess, in Juan's absence. The Upper City was bound to adore the beautiful young queen and her cherubic child. But Iann still has misgivings about going to the Lower City. "Shall we head to the Cloverry Cathedral? It's where they allow the poor to assemble during Mourning Rites."

Miguel looked at her and blinked a moment, and then he laughed. "Oh no, I'm far from a healer. I'll admit, I find the work of physicians and alchemists interesting, but... it's not for me." He took a chance and sat beside the Lady. "Truly, the woods?" The side of his mouth turned up in a little smirk. "You seem so well suited to the capitol. Do you have no family here?"

"I dread to think of what they're doing to him, and the Inquisitor didn't even see the justice in his act... Instead he chose to protect the witch... And he dares to call himself a man of the people." Arin spoke the only sense that she'd heard, "they must be bewitched... Lord and Lady Kesley are the only ones seeing sense, the only ones that want to protect us..." They turned and walked a little way, "I never have," Elia shook her head, "pray to the gods I never do but I've heard rumours about them, they paint themselves in the blood of innocents and bring death on all they touch." She grew quiet as they moved, eyes downcast to keep from drawing attention "it's our duty to make others aware of who is truly responsible for the death of our beloved Raj... They deserve to know the truth."

Cassie nodded in agreement "The Cathedral it is then." She watched Adeline with her own amount of admiration. The waves and greetings could improve of course, but that would come along with years. Currently, cherubric cheeks seemed to cover up any imperfections. Luckily, the Cathedral was not so far away from the castle, and before they even reached the entrance, Cassandra saw the people flowing and littering outside. The kingdom had already grasped mourning tightly, it seemed. A few of the poorly dressed and nourished citizens turned, gawking wide eyed at Cassie, Iann, and the others that accompanied them.

"Perhaps in another life," Ciara replied idly. He was the third child too, she knew. She understood the call for duty without the honour of the eldest. "Truly. My family is out west, in the Eades. The glades are beautiful this time of year. I enjoy the city life, apart from times like this, but there is not much space to oneself." She looked back out at the city, her lips in a tight line. "Right now especially."

"I hope you have a speech ready to go with your coin-distribution, Grand Lady," Iann murmured, his shoulders tensing as he gazed around the crowd like a predatory hawk. It was one thing to be greeted and admired by lesser nobles and artisans, but the milling many of the poor assembled in the gated Cathedral courtyard (it opened to both the Lower and Upper Cities) could include anyone among their dirty throng. Cassie wouldn't be swarmed by them of course - an iron gate separated them from the crowd, but someone with a crossbow could easily take aim. Knight Harrison seemed ever-vigilant on the other side of Cassie's horse, so Iann stayed close by Adeline's side. Arrangements had also been made for Cloverry priests and nuns to emerge as well, carrying baskets of bread as well as vegetables from the Cloverry gardens. All paid for, by Summerset coin. Or rather, by Forty isles coin, as Summerset had no coin to give. The priests and nuns waited, and would start distributing food at the Grand Lady's permission.

Arin made a disquieted sound. "Who's to say he's not been bewitched as well?" He gave Elia a pointed look. "Why else would a man of such standing not look upon such a creature without at least a modicum of suspicion? He witnessed the attack... and yet... she remains free. As does the deadwood witch." Arin nodded gravely. "Aye. Our Lord and Lady see the truth, and will do what they must." Arin guided Elia down the dim corridor, features set stoicly yet still befitting a servant. "I fear the rumors may even be less gruesome than the truth, dear one. Now come... there's much to be done..."

"From what I've heard, the glades sound beautiful. I'll have to visit some time, though I can't imagine life far from the sea." Miguel ran a hand through his tight, dark curls. "Lady, if you're looking for some silence and peace, I could take my leave. I exist to torment my eldest brother, not beautiful women."

"Why do you think I was up so late last night?" Cassandra posed to Iann. As if she would approach the masses unprepared. Still, she waited a few moments so that their arrival was properly registered through the crowd and any surprise had hushed down for the time being. Cassie stayed on her horse, just so everyone could see her. "It's tragedy that brings us all here today. And we all mourn the loss of our Raj deeply, but we must not despair even in trying times such as these. We all want peace, and are working towards a solution tirelessly. Find solace with the clergy and within yourself." She made a motion for the food and coin to start being distributed, "We must stand together as a kingdom, and surely our faith and loyalty will be well rewarded."

"No, no. I shouldn't speak so. The company does me more harm, and it is likely good to keep out of my mind." Ciara looked over with a knowing smile. "It is perhaps terribly femininely of me to be so shaken by the events of the last day. Besides, I could be in much worse company." There was something about the Young Lord Miguel that set her at ease. A dangerous trait, no doubt, but there was little harm in indulging at a superficial level. To find some small pocket of comfort before the raging storm.

"Even if you are shaken on the inside, your exterior speaks nothing but calm and collected." Miguel moved his hand to touch her elbow in the quick gentle way he had with his sister-in-law, but quickly thought better of it and clasped his hands in front of himself, between his knees. "Will you be travelling back to the Eades once all this excitement is over?"

"Staying up writing my assignment, naturally," Iann teased her, although he wasn't exactly smiling as he said it. She had a way with written word that Iann certainly didn't. He liked to speak, not to scribe. Cassandra was good at both though - her voice was clear and strident and rang over the Cathedral courtyard in a way that even quieted the crowd of poor. It turned them from a tense, hungry mob, into a gentle, adoring audience. There was silence and murmuring for a while, as those nearest the gate started to get food. With the Cloverry's assistance, it was more organized than Iann expected, although he still watched carefully. But then from the back, someone yelled out: "God's blessings on the Grand Lady of Summerset!" It was a man's voice, hoarse and desperate with gratitude. The call was repeated, and taken up. "God's blessings! God's blessings!" And as the chant picked up, people at the gates not just reached for coin and food, but also for the Grand Lady's blessing, trying to brush their fingers against her horse, or the hem of Cassandra's dress. "Please, my Queen! Please bless us!"

"Time will tell. I wish to see how this will all play out, and my movements will depend on what comes after. My father has no need for me there right now." Ciara answered, each sentence a half truth. But there was no truly returning to the Eades to stay. She had entangled herself into too many webs to truly ever depart the political sphere, and while today was a challenge, that did not mean the future would be. This was an opening door, a whole new playing field. It could serve her well. "Where will your ships take you after?"

Cassie was relieved the speech had gone over as she had hoped. Not that she doubted her words, but any crowd could be unpredictable. As the crowd came closer, brushing fingertips where they could press between the guards Cassandra smiled softly down at them, "You are all too kind, we are all blessed with or without my saying so. Please, collect what you need and know all of us in the castle are keeping you at the forfronts of our minds."

Miguel looked plenty sympathetic, his father let him do what he wanted ever since he had taken himself off the playing field as someone to be married away to form alliances. He had no easy comparison for what Ciara had gone through, except the expectations that chained him in his youth. "Back to the Forty Isles. Our father is ailing, and I need to be there to show my support, if Iann is to take command."

Iann watched closely, his heart accelerating as the crowd surged. He wanted to drag Adeline's pony back, to prevent those grabbing hands from trying to touch the Princess. It would be so easy for things to get out of control. Gratitude could easily turn into madness. Fortunately, Cassie's response, gracious as it was, also sounded like a retreat. Iann clenched his jaw and slowly steered Adeline's pony around. "Come, Grand Lady," he said with a brief smile. He spoke quietly, just for her. "You've made your point quite well, I should think."

Now that was interesting. Not quite enough for her to show it, but to tuck it deep inside the robes of her clothes. If Iann were to take the throne. This brotherly bickering may be brotherly mutiny. Ciara thought of Iann, directing Savin to take the lead. She thought of him trying to steer who looked at the body when, she thought of him leaving now, with Lady Cassandra, and steering that too. Perhaps this was a good thing. “You believe it will be soon?”

Cassie was indeed ready to leave, and didn't fight when Iann attempted to turn the entire party around. It was hard not to notice his tense jaw and shoulders though, sure the crowd could be intimidating, but Cassandra had kept relatively calm. "You think?" She smiled at Iann, almost baiting him to praise her more, but then she leaned down speaking to him softly as well, "Perhaps you should be among the commoners more often. They're wants and desires are not so far from our own. Offer a bit of kindness, and they will return it tenfold."

Miguel leaned down and brought his hands up to his chin. "I do. He's been ailing for most of my life." His brown eyes flashed toward Ciara for a second. "Our mothers have been controlling the day-to-day." All three of the sons loved their mothers, all of them. It didn't matter who had birthed whom. All three of the women were respectable and necessary for the good of the islands, they were just as untouchable as Adeline in the little games Iann and Miguel played. "Recently they sent a message that father has been confined to his bed. That's no way to live. Especially not for the King of the Driftwood throne."

For once, Iann had nothing witty to reply. As the Grand Lady leaned over her little daughter to speak to Iann, the Prince seemed to stare straight ahead, but his eyes darted this way and that. Not only was he keeping a lookout for anything dangerous, but he was also caught up in what Cassandra just said. Only when they reached the Gates of the Bluesprings Keep, did Iann eventually say, "Wise words, Grand Lady. I shall heed them." And he would; but not in the way that Cassandra meant it.

“I am sorry to hear it.” Ciara replied simply, and truthfully. “I hope you are able to return to him soon.” There was something about him that made her want to reach out and comfort him, but she did not. “Is that why you were so quick to Investigate?”

"I hope you do." Cassandra responded quietly, somewhat surprised to still see Miguel and Ciara chatting in the courtyard. She dismounted with Adeline and thanked the groomsmen that took the horses away. "Flowers, mama." Adeline stating pointing towards a small gate that led to a path towards the castle gardens. "Hmmm." She hummed, crouching slightly to lift the toddler in the air before carrying her on her hip, "Let's collect some boquets for the castle sweetheart." Cassandra agreed, "The keep needs some form of cheer besides lust and drink."

Miguel had been being so earnest with Lady Ciara, the fact that he had to lie to keep up appearances caused him a moment of guilt. But he had put too much work into this, too much energy, to let one woman's opinion of him change his plans. "Partially. I want to go home. I've been away - it's the nature of all the Driftwood princes - we travel. I would like to see him again, alive." He pulled away from the heavy sadness that didn't belong to him, and offered Ciara a small smile. "Thank you for your condolences, I appreciate it," and it was true, even if he had been hoping for the death of his father.

"I apologize, I have no head for determining what rose goes well with what carnation," Iann replied, although he did follow Cassandra to the castle garden, along with Knight Harrison. "But I'll be happy to keep you company, Grand Lady. We must talk some business."

“Of course.” Speaking of, Lord Iann and Queen Cassandra had returned to the courtyard, and Ciara watched them a brief moment. “I am afraid, your lordship, that I must retire for a short while. But your company was a pleasure.” She put her hand on his shoulder as she stood, affectionately, and smiled down at him. “I have no doubt we’ll speak again.”

Cassie turned slightly after unlatching the gate, brow raised at her brother, "Further business?" Addressing the masses was the pressing matter in her own mind, and now that it was over she was ready to idlely roam. She dismissed Danny quickly however, unsure if it was something the knight should be privy to, and besides she was safe within the castle walls now. "What weighs on your mind brother?"

"No doubt," Miguel repeated. There was only so much room in the keep, and Ciara was interesting to talk to. "Have a good day, as good as possible. And think about the blue sky if things get overwhelming." He touched her hand lightly as she went. And cursed his brother for how close he already seemed to the Burned Lady.

"I believe Inquisitor Savin is doing an exceptional job. He's from the North, he's a Dawnguard war hero, and he's a proven Inquisitor. I also believe the Quiver of Houses has collected a very interesting group of people to Counsel the Inquisitor, don't you think? Including two noblewomen newly emerged from accursed lands, and a child who a Priestess of the Light insists deserves a chair at the House table - despite the child continually refusing it. The ten-year war in Bluesprings has certainly created a very eclectic group in the wake of the High Raj's death." Most of the more traditional Lords and Ladies, Dukes and Duchesses, Kings and Queens - they were all dead. What was left? In truth, it was those who either powerful enough to keep themselves out of the war, or took advantage of it for their own gain. "While I'm sure it'll make for lovely colourful songs and poems in the years to come, right now I sense it can only make the Inquisition seem slightly unstable, hm? We need make sure every member on the Quiver creates inspiration in the hearts and minds of the people, rather than wonder. Imagination in the hands of the commonfolk creates superstitions and false beliefs."

"You're babbling." She pointed out to Iann, because this wasn't really business, this was reflection. Reflection was good and well, but it still felt like he was dancing around something. She wet her lips thinking when he mentioned the emerging nobility. "The Priestess can insist, but this heir is only going to have a seat if she wants it. Which as you stated, she doesn't." Cassie couldn't exactly blame her. It was a dangerous seat. "Are you suggesting we raise all the others to our recognition so not to strike jealousy?" She tilted her head agian, "I'm not sure what you're searching for brother, I apologize."

Back in her room, Ciara found the encrypted note hidden behind a wooden panel. A report of what had happened in the places of worship. A report detailed fully, that she devoured in moments, and then tore the paper to swallow it. No secrets left to be found. It ended on exchanges words her mouse had not heard, but the rest was plentiful. She digested a few minutes, then wound her way down to the servants quarters. “Matron,” she spoke softly. “Please assign Aziza to cleaning Lord Iann Cardero’s room from now on, it has barely been a day and he should not notice. Please send Gizelle to my room at the earliest convenience.” No one else needed reassigning. Ciara had mice for every room, but apparently some needed more than one.

Iann watched Cassandra carefully again. Adeline had a few sweet little pink daisies clutched tightly in her hand, which she tried to arrange in her mother's dark hair like a crown. It was endearing, in the dappled sunlight. The pair of them looked almost out of place, a scene of absolute serenity against the backdrop of bloody murder and fearful concerns. He made a choice then and bowed deeply and formally. A bow of formality that he hadn't used with Cassandra for years, ever since Juan Carlos left for another of his crusades, and Iann informally and unofficially installed himself as an (occasional) guardian of Summerset and her Queen. But he used that formal bow now, his face once more inscrutable. "You're right, I am babbling. I suppose seeing the poor gathering for alms has made me more light-headed than I realized. I reluctantly leave you and the Princess now. More her, than you," Iann added in his usual twinkling mischievous manner that lasted a brief moment before he left.