State Visit: Day Eight. [Callan]
Feb. 18th, 2005 09:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
callanoferador.
Callan paced, flung himself down into a chair, then got up and paced some more. This was it. Today was the culmination of all the work, the months of planning and of trudging around, cap in hand to the parties involved. Today, in approximately, [he checked his watch] one hour, the historic deal would be signed and his country’s future assured. Financially, at least. His own security on the throne was still somewhat up in the air. He dropped back into the chair again.
Christian didn’t like him. Not that it was a problem, Callan didn’t need the Crown Prince’s fond regard, that wasn’t what the heat in his veins, the twitch of his cock, was over. But it would certainly make things easier.
Oh, their first meeting had been polite alright, excessively so. Christian’s distaste for anything Eradorian and therefore by default, Callan himself, was a palpable entity, despite his best efforts to hide it. And he had tried, Callan would give him that; his attempt to overcome his distaste had been genuine, as any fool could see.
Overcoming Christian’s bias against all things Eradorian was important for this marriage proposal to work, but Callan wasn’t too worried about that. He was a prince of the realm after all; Christian would do what was needful, despite his aversion and Callan had no doubt at all that Caeline would succeed with charm in soothing Christian into compliance. His concerns were far more personal.
By God, up close, he was even more compelling! Only by exercising the firmest of self-control had Callan managed to get through that uncomfortable encounter. Even more determined now to have what he wanted, but so far unable to come up with a way of achieving it. There had to be one. What he needed was the one thing he did not have in any quantity, time. The time to break down the barrier of prejudice that was keeping him from his goal. But time was a luxury for Kings, it, and distance were conspiring to keep his fantasy unfulfilled.
A discreet knock on the door heralded the arrival of his steward.
“Come.”
Edward walked in, closing the door behind him and made obeisance. Callan signaled him to approach, stifling his irritation at the proper gesture and then surprised yet again by how quickly and how thoroughly Marton’s relaxed attitude had affected his own outlook.
“It’s not time yet, surely?”
“No, Sire. I thought perhaps you might like to take a look at this.” Edward managed to look smug without so much as a twitch of a facial muscle. “I had them sent for.”
Callan took the papers his steward proffered and hiked an eyebrow when he recognized the print-out as a copy of ancient legal text. “Why would I . . .”
“The highlighted passages, Sire.” Edward cut smoothly across Callan’s protest.
Edward had first been Callan’s secretary when he was still a lad and now his steward. He was terribly efficient, discreet, forward-thinking and knew his King extremely well, all of which gave him some small leeway in his behavior toward Callan. Callan was convinced Edward could read his mind. This was no exception.
He read the specified paragraphs and a tiny smile began to grow. If the wedding went ahead, if the agreement they’d talked about in regard to it became likewise contractual, then . . .
“You are a credit to yourself, Edward.” Callan praised, glancing up at the impassive face. “Tell me, how did you know?”
Edward straightened up and allowed himself a tiny smile. “It’s my job to know your wishes, Sire.” he said. “Even if they are not . . . overt.”
Callan nodded and tapped the papers. “And this is still binding? Legal?”
“Most certainly, Sire. The law is old, dating from just after the Schism, but still applicable and binding. It was written about in a text I studied many years ago. That is how I came to remember it.” He indulged himself in an aside. “The scholar speculated that it most likely had been implemented as a way of testing loyalty as well as other, more base, concerns. But as it stands, it should suit your purposes admirably, my liege.”
Callan sat quietly for a moment, fingers resting on his chin. When he spoke, it was quietly, even though they were alone. “And what is my purpose, Edward?”
The steward tilted his head a degree. “The Caleran prince, Majesty. That document delivers him, neatly wrapped and right where you want him.” Edward again indulged in a smile. “To your bed.”
Callan paced, flung himself down into a chair, then got up and paced some more. This was it. Today was the culmination of all the work, the months of planning and of trudging around, cap in hand to the parties involved. Today, in approximately, [he checked his watch] one hour, the historic deal would be signed and his country’s future assured. Financially, at least. His own security on the throne was still somewhat up in the air. He dropped back into the chair again.
Christian didn’t like him. Not that it was a problem, Callan didn’t need the Crown Prince’s fond regard, that wasn’t what the heat in his veins, the twitch of his cock, was over. But it would certainly make things easier.
Oh, their first meeting had been polite alright, excessively so. Christian’s distaste for anything Eradorian and therefore by default, Callan himself, was a palpable entity, despite his best efforts to hide it. And he had tried, Callan would give him that; his attempt to overcome his distaste had been genuine, as any fool could see.
Overcoming Christian’s bias against all things Eradorian was important for this marriage proposal to work, but Callan wasn’t too worried about that. He was a prince of the realm after all; Christian would do what was needful, despite his aversion and Callan had no doubt at all that Caeline would succeed with charm in soothing Christian into compliance. His concerns were far more personal.
By God, up close, he was even more compelling! Only by exercising the firmest of self-control had Callan managed to get through that uncomfortable encounter. Even more determined now to have what he wanted, but so far unable to come up with a way of achieving it. There had to be one. What he needed was the one thing he did not have in any quantity, time. The time to break down the barrier of prejudice that was keeping him from his goal. But time was a luxury for Kings, it, and distance were conspiring to keep his fantasy unfulfilled.
A discreet knock on the door heralded the arrival of his steward.
“Come.”
Edward walked in, closing the door behind him and made obeisance. Callan signaled him to approach, stifling his irritation at the proper gesture and then surprised yet again by how quickly and how thoroughly Marton’s relaxed attitude had affected his own outlook.
“It’s not time yet, surely?”
“No, Sire. I thought perhaps you might like to take a look at this.” Edward managed to look smug without so much as a twitch of a facial muscle. “I had them sent for.”
Callan took the papers his steward proffered and hiked an eyebrow when he recognized the print-out as a copy of ancient legal text. “Why would I . . .”
“The highlighted passages, Sire.” Edward cut smoothly across Callan’s protest.
Edward had first been Callan’s secretary when he was still a lad and now his steward. He was terribly efficient, discreet, forward-thinking and knew his King extremely well, all of which gave him some small leeway in his behavior toward Callan. Callan was convinced Edward could read his mind. This was no exception.
He read the specified paragraphs and a tiny smile began to grow. If the wedding went ahead, if the agreement they’d talked about in regard to it became likewise contractual, then . . .
“You are a credit to yourself, Edward.” Callan praised, glancing up at the impassive face. “Tell me, how did you know?”
Edward straightened up and allowed himself a tiny smile. “It’s my job to know your wishes, Sire.” he said. “Even if they are not . . . overt.”
Callan nodded and tapped the papers. “And this is still binding? Legal?”
“Most certainly, Sire. The law is old, dating from just after the Schism, but still applicable and binding. It was written about in a text I studied many years ago. That is how I came to remember it.” He indulged himself in an aside. “The scholar speculated that it most likely had been implemented as a way of testing loyalty as well as other, more base, concerns. But as it stands, it should suit your purposes admirably, my liege.”
Callan sat quietly for a moment, fingers resting on his chin. When he spoke, it was quietly, even though they were alone. “And what is my purpose, Edward?”
The steward tilted his head a degree. “The Caleran prince, Majesty. That document delivers him, neatly wrapped and right where you want him.” Edward again indulged in a smile. “To your bed.”
