Side Court Room

Hoping his presence or message would not anger the already grief-stricken King and Queen, the young page cleared his throat and bowed low.
"My lord, Countess Aemilia of Devon begs your audience." Behind him, the young woman stood hidden by the closed door.

Brushing her gowns skirts out, she took a deep breath, her hands shaking with fear and dread. Maybe it had indeed been a mistake to come to Alrania and seek her half-brother's merciful grace. But as her father had always been fond of saying. 'A deed done must be completed with honour; else folly is upon the doer'. Her headdress had already been perfectly arranged, but she straightened it nonetheless, praying fervently that perhaps a small amount of kindness would meet her rather than hostility and anger.

How would she say it? She had rehearsed her approach a hundred times on the carriage ride to Alrania. None had pleased her. Now she found that her entire life with its preparation for her duties had all been for naught. Aemilia of Devon was speechless and frightened beyond her wildest dreams.

Oberon sat beside his Queen, pouring over maps and battle strategies. He would need to come up with something either solidly used with great success throughout history, or something entirely new that Jahan had never seen before in the upcoming war. He was to ride out with the first company the following day. To say he was numbed by the thought was both truth, and lie. His grief had hardened in the days passed into a firm resolve - a much firmer one than the attempts he'd made days prior. He'd called for the aid of those from Lancaster by his wife's suggestion, and they were surely mere hours from the capitol now.

Only in private were his brother, his wife, and his young son allowed to see he still wept.

At the sudden noise, dark sapphires darted upward in search for the source of the disturbance. Without meaning to he set the page with a distinctly displeased glare, though the countenance softened to a more neutral tone in the space it took an eye to blink. So involved had he been in studying his maps and texts that Oberon had forgotten he was still in the Court Room, and therefore not exempt from receiving audiences.

Setting aside the parchment and tome, Oberon straightened. "Very well; we shall speak with her," he replied in referring to not one but all of the royal family present, fairly certain she was within very close range elsewise the page would have waited or indicated her arrival being imminent but not immediate.

In waiting for the Countess to enter, Oberon surveyed the other royals in the room with a masked gaze in an attempt to discern their moods.

Cassandra was tired, beyond tired... but she refused to givin to it the moment, if she did her daughters young face flashed before her face.

She let Oberon go with his battle plans, she was no military genius there was little she could advise he didn't already know...

No she was doing more behind the scenes work going through the list of all the men Her father had sent for Oberon when he road out. So many names...

Prince Liam was obsrving his father and what he was doing... trying to keep his mind off of the horried news that had been divugled to him.

When the page entered both the Prince and Queen rasied there heads.

Cassandra was curious but wary as to what a countess would want at a time like this, a time of war and giref.

A small sigh escaped her as she straightend the papers infront of her, a waiting the visitor..

Theseus stood to the side, staring out the window, looking longingly, with envy at the birds flying freely through the winds. After spending a good deal of the day reviewing battle strategies, throwing in suggestions, he began to grow weary, his head beginning to ache and throb. He needed a moment away from the stresses, fears, and anxiety of the impending war, if only for mere minutes.

Sapphire orbs broke away reluctantly from the window, at the sound of a page entering. Interest illuminated the orbs at the exchange between the boy and his brother, to be replaced with slight panic. The Countess Aemilia of Devon? Oh dear...

Frantically, his mind searched through his "archives" trying to recollect any encounter he may have had with the woman. He had been done this road quite a few times before, three to be exact, and it didn't always solve itself cleanly. Particularly if his wife found out again...

Confusion furrowed his brow as he couldn't seem to remember anything about Aemila. While the Countess of Devon, presumably her Mother, may have been named in a rumour or two, for the life of him, he couldn't recollect anything. However, the thought did little to ease his nerves, for if anything life had taught him, the truth was often stranger than fiction.

Determined not to let his thoughts show, however, Theseus made his way back to where his family stood, waiting to see the girl, hopefully, for the first time.

Ushered in by the page and guard, Aemilia desperately tried her best to stay the shaking of her limbs. She felt like a leaf caught in a merciless wind storm. Bowing low, she hoped the royal family would not notice who frightened she was. Perhaps her training would hold; her lie would keep.

"My lord king." she began, wishing perhaps that it had been only the king. There was something odd and foreign about speaking to her blood father's near entire family. Perhaps guilt rose within her heart; but she decided to call it fear. Guilt that she would bring to light the pain of a faithless father, one whose secrets had not been taken to his silent grave. "May I please express my deepest condolences on the loss of Alranian's princess and dowager queen." Aemilia rose from her deep curtsey, her eyes making contact with her half-brother only for a brief moment.

The queen looked compassionate; but it was not the queen's mercy she had come to beg.

"With my beloved father, friend of said court and ally to Alrania passed into peace, my mother made it known that she desired my marriage to a man whose unfaithfulness was known. Upon speaking with her, she proved unreasonable and refused my pleas for abstinence. With my life seeming forfeit, I fled my homeland in hope of escaping what Fate herself may have laid before my ungrateful feet." She paused, hoping she had not said too much too soon.

"Thus I beg my lord king, to allow my stay within his lands." So far she had not said anything that could warrant a refusal. Her brother would not go Devon's king and ask for war simply because a fearful maiden fled his court. But there was more and she cursed herself for not saying it now. But fear is said to be one of the strongest emotions and she was held tightly in its grip.

Weariness, a resilience to the darkness clouding their skies, and a longing for happier times – this was what Oberon saw in the trio closest to his heart that were present. How the king wished he could remove their pain with but a few words and gesture of affection, but alas it would take much more than that to relieve his own sorrows let alone theirs. Yes, he still blamed himself for the deaths. He knew better than to come out and say it, because he didn’t want his wife to also feel guilty. Oberon also didn’t want his son to hate him. Where his brother would stand on such a feeling he wasn’t sure, but he could tell that war was not a place Theseus wanted to be. Oberon couldn’t blame him at all, for he really did not want to be upon the edge of death and suffering either. But action needed to be taken...

The king gave his son a small smile, albeit a sad and wearied one, and placed the boy upon his lap so that he might better see the map being pored over, small pins with the Alranian and Mystenian flags stuck into the parchment here and there.

Oberon’s optical attention was diverted from his son at the arrival of the Countess, however he still made sure his son was secure sitting upon his knee. He saw that the woman shook, though for what reason the king couldn’t be sure. Fear, chill, or a variety of other reasons could be the cause. The king stiffened slightly at the mention of condolences, still finding the deaths of his mother and daughter a bit unreal and a tender topic, though nodded his thanks. Oberon wasn’t so certain his voice was up to the task of verbal thanks. For the briefest of moments, his dark sapphires met Aemilia’s gaze. As in the presence of anyone not closely associated with him, they were neutral so as not to show weakness in such a gloom-ridden hour as this.

"With my beloved father, friend of said court and ally to Alrania passed into peace, my mother made it known that she desired my marriage to a man whose unfaithfulness was known. Upon speaking with her, she proved unreasonable and refused my pleas for abstinence. With my life seeming forfeit, I fled my homeland in hope of escaping what Fate herself may have laid before my ungrateful feet. ... Thus I beg my lord king, to allow my stay within his lands."

Oberon placed a hand to his chin, a pair of fingers just touching his lips as he thought. Unfaithfulness... something he heard about rather frequently when his sister-in-law Hilda was present. While it wasn’t entirely a legal problem, he could understand the countess’s dilemma. Princess Desdemona was in a similar situation, scheduled to be married to a Baron whom almost none – not even Oberon himself – agreed with. It was not necessarily the age gap, for Yorick appeared to be in his sixties and such unions were not uncommon, but rather a deeper feeling somewhere in his gut. It couldn’t be adequately explained. And, like Desdemona’s own parents, there seemed to be no negotiating with the reached decision. The King already knew there was no interfering with Desdemona’s fate, and in actuality he had little say in the matter despite being a member of the family by marriage.

But perhaps he could assist Aemilia...

Oberon retrieved a list that consisted of Knights’ names that would be staying in Alrania as a means of defense should Jahan send a force directly to the castle. Deep blue eyes scanned the parchment for a brief moment before returning his focus to the countess. “My condolences regarding your father, Countess Aemilia of Devon. Fate hath provided for us both an ill hand, indeed. Alrania is preparing for war upon Mystenia, as it may have been heard.

“While such unions are not uncommon, your request is not unreasonable so I shall grant it. A page shall see you to your guest chambers when you are ready and if there is nothing more,” he replied, giving a nearly imperceptible nod to a random page also in the room to do as bade once everything was settled.