Topic: A Matter of State

Prince Stephan · Date: 2014-12-16 18:35 EST

August 9th, 1613

Politics on the continent of Meringia were never as straight-forward as they might have seemed. Many of the countries gathered together on that sea-bound isle were in thrall to the power of Pomerania, whose power indeed came from the growth of its territories to encompass the seat of the Church of the Goddess. With the open support of the Dalai, the head of the Church, the monarchs of Pomerania in centuries past had chosen to exert that power over the other states of Meringia, and only a very few had resisted.

The heretical council of Coimbra, for one, and the oldest monarchy in the land, Francia - both joined in near perpetual war, and neither inclined to accept status as a vassal of Pomerania. Both were a source of constant political friction, yet Francia should have been an ally. And indeed, it would be, if the machinations of the ambassadors came to fruition. As news came to them of the Coimbra incursion across the Frankish border, the Pomeran armies began to mobilise - ostensibly to discourage any thought of the heretical army crossing into their territory, but in reality prepared to answer King Christian of Francia's invitation to put down the heretics should he need their assistance. The High King, Philippe of Pomerania, could not help hoping that the invitation would be extended. He longed to deal a mortal blow to the heresy of the Coimbran council, and in the process, prove to Francia that his word was his bond. But perhaps there was another way to bring Francia under his influence.

Marriages were often political, and he did have a son who was long past the time when he should have taken a wife. Thus, with this in mind, he had called his council and given them their orders, opening diplomatic discussions with Francia, Epirus, and Valentia. As these discussions came to a logical head, despite the trend toward war in Francia, it came time to bring the Crown Prince's attention to a little diplomacy.

He summoned his eldest son to his council chambers, where there were decisions to be made, concerning not only his future, but the future of the realm he would one day govern.

Prince Stephan was a dutiful son who knew his place well. He had, after all, been born to it and the importance of his position had been well impressed upon him since birth. He knew the politics of Meringia as well as anyone and knew what was at stake for all of Pomerania should he fail to live up to both his father's and the country's expectations. As such, he had always been an obedient son, his first loyalty to his father the king and his second to his country, putting all personal feelings aside as was befitting a man of his station. It was not from any lack on his part that he had not yet been wed, but simply a matter of finding the right match. Stephan knew, even from a very young age, that it was unlikely he'd ever marry for love, but for duty to his king and his country. But even now, as he was summoned to the king's council chambers, he was itching to go to war and to prove himself worthy. The matter of a wife was the last thing on his mind.

As he entered, it was to find the room virtually empty. Only his father was present - and the inevitable guards and servants - surveying three portraits that had been set on easels for his convenience. Three very different looking young ladies, by the look of them, and a fairly large clue as to why Stephan had been summoned. Philippe turned as his son entered, gesturing toward the portraits. "Choose one," he told his son. He wasn't intentionally brusque, but things were swiftly coming to a head on the border between Coimbra and Francia, and he, like his son, was eager to join the Pomeran army massing at their own border so close to the conflict.

"What is this about, Father?" the Crown Prince inquired as he stepped into the chambers only to find no one there, but his father, a few guards and servants, and three striking but very different portraits. Of course, he wasn't so dense that he couldn't put two and two together. "You expect me to choose a wife based on a painting" How am I to know which would benefit the country best?" He assumed this a completely political arrangement and was wondering why he was even being asked to choose. "How am I to know which will one day make a good queen?"

"I would assume you know the politics well enough, but as you wish." Philippe gestured to the first portrait, that of a brightly dressed blonde woman, her chin tilted high. "Helena of Valentia," he told his son. "Daughter of King Clovis and his late Queen." There was a pause as the king's jaw clenched - the beheading of Queen Maria did not sit well with him. "Clovis seeks to ally himself more closely with us and suggests his daughter, despite having declared her illegitimate."

He nodded, and gestured to the second portrait, a complete contrast to the first. It depicted a young girl, her dress conservative and dark, blue eyes stark in an innocent face. "Princess Marianne of Francia - young, yes, but old enough for marriage. A cemented alliance with the oldest monarchy in Meringia would benefit both our houses, and severely cramp the ambitions of the heretic council in Coimbra."

And a last gesture, to the third portrait, in which a black-haired, olive-skinned beauty gazed suggestively from the canvas. "Madame Lenore of Epirus. No current royal connection, but she can trace her line back to the first monarch of our first vassal state." Philippe sighed, and sat down. "And of course you should choose your wife based on a painting. You are in a position to choose a pretty one, after all."

Stephan looked from one portrait to another, each of the faces lovely in her own way, but this was not about looks or charm or personal attraction. In the end, it was about what was best for Pomerania and who would make the best queen. If he was going on looks alone, he might have chosen Lenore. She would have made a fine mistress, but he had his doubts about her abilities as a queen. And Helena, while also lovely, seemed a bit too haughty. He knew his father sympathized with the girl, but they also knew her bloodline was questionable. And then there was Marianne. Though younger, she was as lovely as the other two, and there was no doubt of her bloodline.

She was a firstborn daughter, as he was a firstborn son. There was no question she would understand the importance of forming an alliance and perhaps would be agreeable to such a match. The only thing that concerned him was her age. Though she was unquestionably old enough to marry, he was almost but not quite twice her age. "There's no question which of them would benefit us most. Why do you even ask for my opinion?"

Philippe leaned back comfortably in his chair, one hand on his flagon of wine as he watched his son consider the options before him. He knew which he would choose, were the decision purely his own, but not even he was foolish enough to tell his eldest son who was going to be the mother of his children. "Because, Stephan, you are the one who will have to bed her," he pointed out. "Each of them are from proven fertile lines - indeed, Lady Lenore has already borne a son to her husband now deceased, though he was taken before his first year. You are choosing not just a Queen, but your own consort, your wife, the companion of your years. Choose wisely. Divorce is something they only do in Alanic."

Stephan did not feel the need to voice his opinion of each of his prospects. He was no child prince with his head in the clouds and dreaming of love at first sight. Indeed, he thought love was unlikely, but if they could at least be friends, he would be happy with that. Whichever he chose, he would do his best to treat her well and to make her life at least tolerable, but love" Love was for children and commoners. It had no place in a royal match, unless one was very unusually lucky. "Once the light goes out, does it really matter which shares my bed?" he mused aloud.

Prince Stephan · Date: 2014-12-16 18:38 EST

"Well, it makes life easier if you feel some attraction for her," Philippe spoke from his own experience. Though he and his own queen rarely showed their affection for one another openly, they shared a bed every night, something unheard of among their rank and station. He loved her very much, but he had hated her on sight when they had been wed. "It took me years to find your mother attractive enough to bed her regularly, but she did come to me a harridan before her time." he chuckled fondly, shaking his head, and abruptly cleared his throat. "If there is attraction, there is the chance for friendship, and from friendship can grow a deeper form of love than the poets sing of."

"You already know which would most benefit us," Stephan pointed out again. Did his father really expect him to choose a woman of questionable lineage over a princess" "A match with Marianne would cement an alliance with Francia," he added, more for his father's benefit than for his own. He had already decided; he was only curious if his father concurred.

"True, it would," his father agreed, approving of his choice with a certain steely praise in his glance. "Is she your choice, then" She is young, yes, but reports of her state that she is grown well and fine, intelligent and schooled in the feminine arts we expect from a wife. Well, most of them." The king smirked for a moment, but schooled his expression quickly. Virgins were generally at least warned what to expect on their wedding night.

"That is what you want, isn't it?" his son prodded, old enough that he didn't really need his father's approval for such a choice, but still desired it. He took in the three portraits appraisingly once again, trying to imagine himself with each one, but only for a moment before dismissing the thought as childish whimsy. "She will think me old," he mused aloud.

"I doubt that," Philippe assured him. "While it is true that her father is your senior by just a few years, such matches are not uncommon. Her cousin, the Lady Alys Marillier, was wed to Henri of Elan when she was but fifteen, and he a man of two-score and six. No issue from that match, but it is hardly a surprise. A girl should be allowed to blossom before she is wed - in that, Christian and I are agreed, at the very least. And Marianne has certainly blossomed, I'm told."

"You did not answer the question," the son pointed out to the father, showing he was no fool, by any means. He had not yet told him if he approved of the match, though it mattered little, it seemed. It was difficult to choose a wife when all he had to go by was a likeness, which could easily have been embellished to make the lady more attractive than she really was. Youth, at least, was on the Princess Marianne's side, however. She had not yet married or had any children, and as far as Stephan knew, there was no scandal attached to her name.

His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Stephan, you know as well as I do that the best match is the alliance with Francia," he reminded his son. "Is it the choice I had hoped you would make" I would be lying if I said it was not. But I would not have denied you, had you chosen otherwise."

"And you know me well enough to know I will put the good of the crown and the country before my own personal feelings," he pointed out, no boy but a man, ready to prove himself as a worthy leader, in his own right. "Very well. Let us say I have chosen and hope the princess does not find me undesirable."

Philippe nodded, accepting his son's choice without gloating or recrimination. "It will take time to ratify the betrothal agreement," he said thoughtfully. "The dowry and such. But Christian is a reasonable man, even in the midst of a war, and Chancellor Bereth knows better than to hinder us. You are to join our forces on the Frankish border within the next two weeks - if the invitation comes that the Franks need our aid, you are to mobilise the army and march into Francia. I will join you there, should it come to it."

"As you wish," Stephan replied. He couldn't remember when the last time was he'd told his father no. Probably when he'd been a boy and had been told by his father to do one thing or another that he'd found unappealing. He'd learned early on that obedience was not only encouraged but expected. He was no commoner's son, but a prince, and as such, much was expected of him, and though he rarely said so, he longed to make his father proud and prove himself worthy, not only to the man who was his father, but to his king and his country. "The Coimbrans have been asking for war. It would be my honor to put them in their place."

"Try not to get yourself killed before you're a father," Philippe said, his tone wry with warm humor. He remembered his own youth, the eagerness to prove himself in battle and be recognised as a leader of men before he had to wear the crown that had sat so heavily on his own father's head. "You are truly decided, then" You will take Marianne to wife?"

"Or before I am a husband," he added under his breath. "I am decided," he confirmed. The Princess of Francia was the only really logical choice, and he couldn't deny she was pretty, if the portrait was to be believed.

"Then we may hope to have you wed before the new year passes us by," his father warned him. "Time enough to bring Coimbra to heel and set affairs in order. Time enough, too, for word of your betrothal to break a few hearts and give you a few evenings in the arms of the heartbroken to console you for the need to do your duty." He knew how that went, too - the weeks before his own marriage had been very busy in that respect.

"Hmm, perhaps," Stephan said, though he did not confirm any lovers either way. He'd been careful not to create any illegitimate brats or cause any scandals, but there had been a handful of lovers and hopefuls. He was not a child, after all.

"Aye, then, well ..." Philippe nodded to him once again, raising a hand to gesture for his personal secretary to come forward. "Be sure to tell your mother, the queen, before I do, or she may decide to confine you to your rooms until you apologise profusely enough to win her forgiveness. Two weeks, Stephan, and you must be on the border. I will send word when the betrothal is made secure."

"I will not disappoint you, Father," Stephan replied, offering a small bow to the man who was both his father and his king. He knew when he was being excused and when to take his leave. His father was a busy man, after all. He just hoped he had made the right choice, for all their sakes.

((Da-dum! The plot thickens! Yes, we're posting in this folder again. Thanks to anyone who might be reading, and as always, many thanks to my amazingly creative play partner. More coming soon!))