Erador-Royal Palace. [Callan/Caeline]
Mar. 2nd, 2005 12:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
callanoferador.
Callan sat at his ease in his sister’s receiving room awaiting her return from a day of public duties. Ignoring the upright posture of the wing-back chair in which he was sitting, he had rested one long, dark-clad leg over one arm and was slouched down comfortably with his back against the other, fingers tapping an idle rhythm.
The doors swung open and his sister entered, shedding her gloves and handbag as she walked and handing them off to a hovering servant girl. Dismissing the girl, she set to work on the pins holding her hair up, shaking it loose before she noticed her brother’s presence and quickly dropped into a formal curtsy.
“Callan.” she said, surprised and pleased. “No one said you were here. I am sorry.”
Callan waved aside the apology with a smile. “Sit.” he said. “I want to talk to you.”
Since his return from Calera, Callan had mostly been closeted with his advisors and various other figures of power, discussing the success of the trip, the ramifications of the signing of the deal and accepting their congratulations for what they saw as his outstanding maneuvering in securing so much for Erador. He took great care not to disabuse them of the notion.
He’d searched their faces, listened to their lies, and watched the respect dawn in their eyes, their allegiances shift and re-form. Finally, he delivered the coup de grace, the marriage proposal, and knew instantly that his position had become unassailable, that finally he was truly in charge.
Now it was time to tell Caeline of her future.
His half-sister had taken the seat opposite his own in the chair that exactly matched the one he was sitting in. She perched straight-backed on the edge, hands folded neatly in her lap, her clothes, jewelry and manner immaculate, faultless.
Most people said they looked alike, despite having different mothers, though neither of them truly resembled their father either. Caeline’s mink brown hair and full lips were certainly echoed in Callan, but where his eyes were Caleran blue, hers were the deep rich nut-brown of the majority of Eradorian’s. Callan and Caeline were close in age, if not in temperament. Caeline had been raised a dutiful daughter of Erador and it suited Callan admirably to have her be so.
Callan’s mother had died when he was young, enraging his father who had paid dearly for the right to marry her. He’d quickly re-married, this time to an Eradorian Duke’s daughter and many people thought, but would never say aloud, that the death of his first wife had planted the seed of his madness.
Caeline was waiting patiently for him to speak and would continue to do so until he was ready. However Callan was not in the mood to test his sister at this time and so he said, quite casually, “I have contracted a marriage for you.”
Her only reaction was the slight raising of an eyebrow and a small nod and Callan wondered briefly what Christian was going to make of her. He pushed the thought aside and gave her leave to speak.
“That is wonderful, Callan.” she said. “May I ask when?”
Not ‘who’, when. Callan could not help but smile at it. “There will be a meeting first, naturally.” he told her. “Refusal is a possibility, which is why there will be no premature announcement.”
That did get a reaction from her, albeit a mild one. “Refusal?” she said, plainly puzzled. “Who would dare refuse you?”
Ah. That explained it. Caeline was thinking of a local marriage to some Lord or Duke who deserved rewarding or whose favor Callan curried. He shook his head and smiled.
“Marton of Calera could.” he said. “But it is his son who has right of refusal.”
“Calera!” His sister’s mouth parted in a little ‘o’ of surprise, but she seemed pleased which made things easier. Callan had little understanding of how her mind worked, what she liked or disliked. Though they had grown up together, Caeline had had different tutors, different demands placed upon her, and the two of them, while mildly affectionate with one another, were not close. “A Caleran prince! Oh my!”
“The Crown Prince.” he told her, watching as her eyes widened.
“Prince Christian!” Her hand flew to her breast and the look on her face was one of fluttery admiration. “Oh Callan! I’ve seen his picture. He’s so handsome. Is he as handsome in reality?”
Good grief! Callan mustered his patience and smiled, nodding his head. “Yes, darling, he is. Handsome and charming, intelligent and strong.” He supposed that, as closeted as her upbringing had been and still remained, that Caeline had every right to be flustered.
“It’s an amazing triumph for you, is it not?”
There! That was better. Callan was pleased his sister’s intelligence was kicking into gear. He nodded. “Yes, it is.” he said. “Arrangements are being made for you to travel to Balize for a meeting. If all goes well, the marriage will be formalized, contracts drawn up etc. So we must hope all does go well, mustn’t we?” he finished with a pointed look at Caeline.
She nodded in earnest agreement. “Most certainly.” she said. “I shall do my utmost, I promise you.”
“Good.” Callan got to his feet and Caeline also rose. If she managed to charm Christian, all was assured and he kissed her cheek, pleased with her responses, her enthusiasm. Callan was finished here, his duty done and he wanted to leave.
Edward had promised that the more thorough investigation he’d done into the legal clause he’d shown Callan in Calera would be ready by this evening and he was anxious to return to his own rooms and see if they’d arrived.
“I shall see you at dinner.” he told her. “Edward will be along in the morning to fill you in on the trip, all right?”
Caeline nodded, curtsied once more and walked with Callan to the door. As he walked away, he thought he heard a small whoop of delight coming from behind the Princess’s door and he smiled.
Inside, Caeline did an excited little dance, her delicate fingers clenched into a fist that pumped the air once or twice. Calera! Yes!
Callan sat at his ease in his sister’s receiving room awaiting her return from a day of public duties. Ignoring the upright posture of the wing-back chair in which he was sitting, he had rested one long, dark-clad leg over one arm and was slouched down comfortably with his back against the other, fingers tapping an idle rhythm.
The doors swung open and his sister entered, shedding her gloves and handbag as she walked and handing them off to a hovering servant girl. Dismissing the girl, she set to work on the pins holding her hair up, shaking it loose before she noticed her brother’s presence and quickly dropped into a formal curtsy.
“Callan.” she said, surprised and pleased. “No one said you were here. I am sorry.”
Callan waved aside the apology with a smile. “Sit.” he said. “I want to talk to you.”
Since his return from Calera, Callan had mostly been closeted with his advisors and various other figures of power, discussing the success of the trip, the ramifications of the signing of the deal and accepting their congratulations for what they saw as his outstanding maneuvering in securing so much for Erador. He took great care not to disabuse them of the notion.
He’d searched their faces, listened to their lies, and watched the respect dawn in their eyes, their allegiances shift and re-form. Finally, he delivered the coup de grace, the marriage proposal, and knew instantly that his position had become unassailable, that finally he was truly in charge.
Now it was time to tell Caeline of her future.
His half-sister had taken the seat opposite his own in the chair that exactly matched the one he was sitting in. She perched straight-backed on the edge, hands folded neatly in her lap, her clothes, jewelry and manner immaculate, faultless.
Most people said they looked alike, despite having different mothers, though neither of them truly resembled their father either. Caeline’s mink brown hair and full lips were certainly echoed in Callan, but where his eyes were Caleran blue, hers were the deep rich nut-brown of the majority of Eradorian’s. Callan and Caeline were close in age, if not in temperament. Caeline had been raised a dutiful daughter of Erador and it suited Callan admirably to have her be so.
Callan’s mother had died when he was young, enraging his father who had paid dearly for the right to marry her. He’d quickly re-married, this time to an Eradorian Duke’s daughter and many people thought, but would never say aloud, that the death of his first wife had planted the seed of his madness.
Caeline was waiting patiently for him to speak and would continue to do so until he was ready. However Callan was not in the mood to test his sister at this time and so he said, quite casually, “I have contracted a marriage for you.”
Her only reaction was the slight raising of an eyebrow and a small nod and Callan wondered briefly what Christian was going to make of her. He pushed the thought aside and gave her leave to speak.
“That is wonderful, Callan.” she said. “May I ask when?”
Not ‘who’, when. Callan could not help but smile at it. “There will be a meeting first, naturally.” he told her. “Refusal is a possibility, which is why there will be no premature announcement.”
That did get a reaction from her, albeit a mild one. “Refusal?” she said, plainly puzzled. “Who would dare refuse you?”
Ah. That explained it. Caeline was thinking of a local marriage to some Lord or Duke who deserved rewarding or whose favor Callan curried. He shook his head and smiled.
“Marton of Calera could.” he said. “But it is his son who has right of refusal.”
“Calera!” His sister’s mouth parted in a little ‘o’ of surprise, but she seemed pleased which made things easier. Callan had little understanding of how her mind worked, what she liked or disliked. Though they had grown up together, Caeline had had different tutors, different demands placed upon her, and the two of them, while mildly affectionate with one another, were not close. “A Caleran prince! Oh my!”
“The Crown Prince.” he told her, watching as her eyes widened.
“Prince Christian!” Her hand flew to her breast and the look on her face was one of fluttery admiration. “Oh Callan! I’ve seen his picture. He’s so handsome. Is he as handsome in reality?”
Good grief! Callan mustered his patience and smiled, nodding his head. “Yes, darling, he is. Handsome and charming, intelligent and strong.” He supposed that, as closeted as her upbringing had been and still remained, that Caeline had every right to be flustered.
“It’s an amazing triumph for you, is it not?”
There! That was better. Callan was pleased his sister’s intelligence was kicking into gear. He nodded. “Yes, it is.” he said. “Arrangements are being made for you to travel to Balize for a meeting. If all goes well, the marriage will be formalized, contracts drawn up etc. So we must hope all does go well, mustn’t we?” he finished with a pointed look at Caeline.
She nodded in earnest agreement. “Most certainly.” she said. “I shall do my utmost, I promise you.”
“Good.” Callan got to his feet and Caeline also rose. If she managed to charm Christian, all was assured and he kissed her cheek, pleased with her responses, her enthusiasm. Callan was finished here, his duty done and he wanted to leave.
Edward had promised that the more thorough investigation he’d done into the legal clause he’d shown Callan in Calera would be ready by this evening and he was anxious to return to his own rooms and see if they’d arrived.
“I shall see you at dinner.” he told her. “Edward will be along in the morning to fill you in on the trip, all right?”
Caeline nodded, curtsied once more and walked with Callan to the door. As he walked away, he thought he heard a small whoop of delight coming from behind the Princess’s door and he smiled.
Inside, Caeline did an excited little dance, her delicate fingers clenched into a fist that pumped the air once or twice. Calera! Yes!
