October 10th, 1613
News of the defeat of the Coimbran army had rushed ahead of the returning prince in triumph, and with it, the news that following behind that prince was the promised bride from Francia. The court at Berengaria was alive with gossip and excitement, eager for talk of the men folk who had left for war, to see them returned, and to hear of the little princess who was coming to them over land. But it was one woman in particular who longed for news of the Crown Prince, waiting with dignified impatience within the privacy of her own apartments for her eldest surviving son to greet her upon his return.
It was not to the Queen's apartments that the Crown Prince ventured first, but to see his father, the King. A good thing it was, too, as he was looking a little worse for wear after the hardship of battle and the journey home. It wasn't until after he'd eaten and bathed that he made his way at last to the queen's apartments, still exhausted and feeling like he could sleep for a week.
As always, there was the formality to get past - the presenting of his compliments, his announcement into the presence of his own mother, the dismissal of her ladies. But once that was done, Catherine rose to take his hands into hers, pouring her affection for her eldest son into every nuance of her speech and expression. "I have prayed night and day for your safe return," she told him warmly, stroking her gentle hand against his cheek. "All my boys left me to go to war, with no better company than the crabby old man sitting on the throne." She chuckled, drawing her Stephan to sit with her.
"That old crabby man is your husband," Stephan reminded her, a warm if tired smile for the woman who had birthed him and had at least a hand in raising him. "I am well, Mother. Your prayers kept me safe." His entire demeanor and tone of voice changed in her presence. She was one of the only people he knew that he could actually relax with and just be himself. With her, he was Stephan, her son, not the Crown Prince.
"You have not been sleeping enough," she said, predictably turning toward her habitual gentle scolding regarding his habits. "Too much playing at war, not enough sleep in a warm bed. Not a bed warmed by a mistress, either," she added, a playful twinkle in her dark eyes. She was exceedingly fond of him, but that didn't stop her from mothering him whenever she got the chance.
"I do not think this would be a good time for a mistress," he pointed out, knowing she must know about his future bride - it seemed the entire court was alive with excitement at the news. One would almost think it was them getting married and not him. He breathed a sigh as he settled back against the cushions and pushed the wayward curls he never could seem to tame out of his eyes. "In just a few weeks, you will have the daughter you have always hoped for."
"You did not see her while you were in Francia?" his mother asked curiously, though she knew that hope had been a very long shot. Unlike many other political agreements, this one had been guided by her hand, and as such, the arrangements for the princess' safe passage to the capital of Pomerania and her entry to the castle had been given into the Queen's care. "I am told she is a delicate little thing, without much understanding of the world beyond her father's court."
"There is little time for courtship when you are at war, Mother," he reminded her gently. There had only been one reason for his journey to Francia and it had not made for pleasure or to socialize. "Have you heard anything from my brothers lately?" he asked, deftly changing the subject before they dwelt on war too long.
Catherine rolled her eyes, her smile fond for the thought of her younger sons. "As I understand it, Felipe is having fun frightening Coimbran refugees on the border, and Maksim is ....well, I do not know what to think. One report states that he is courting Lady Georgiana, another that he keeps being arrested for lewd behavior. He does not admit either to me, of course."
"Frightening them?" Stephan echoed with a frown, remembering the conversation with Christian and his suggestion to be kind to those who straddled the border. "Does Felipe realize that Coimbran refugees are potentially future Pomeranian citizens?" he asked, wondering if the king knew about this and had anything to say or think about it.
The queen sighed softly, shaking her head. "You know your brother," she pointed out quietly. "He has always been hungry for war, for violence. It is why he was given Merek, a place to channel such desires. But this hounding of those who seek sanctuary - your father is furious. If Felipe does not take control of such urges soon, he may find himself confined to court."
"Are my brothers coming here for the wedding?" he asked further, not just out of curiosity. He thought someone needed to explain things to his younger brother, and he might be more inclined to listen if it came from him, rather than from their father, the king.
"They have been recalled, yes," his mother assured him. "It is a great occasion, and their absence would be noted. Maksim can be easily pulled from whatever his dissolute pastimes are this month, and Felipe will not deny a direct order from the king. There is talk that perhaps Felipe should be asked to escort your bride here from the border, but I am not inclined to allow it. He delights in teasing, and from what I have heard of her, she would not take it well."
From the expression on his face, it was clear that he concurred on the matter of Felipe. "I'm sure Christian will see to an escort," he told her, assuming the King of Francia would take his daughter's safety seriously enough to make sure she had a proper escort to see her across the border and safely to the capital, without either of his brothers needing to get involved.
"The Frankish ambassador here at court has already been dispatched to collect and escort her through our lands, to stand in proxy for her father," his mother confirmed with a nod. "As well as two dozen of the king's guard." She reached out to take her eldest son's hand, squeezing his fingers between her palms. "You seem troubled, Stephan. Will you not tell me what ails you, as you once did?"
One elbow propped against the arm of the chair, he stroked the short whiskers of his beard, a little bit lost in thought, until she drew him back from his wayward thoughts with a simple touch. He stopped stroking his beard and turned to her, shrugging his shoulders lightly. There had been a time when her firstborn son had confined in her most everything, but these days, his responsibilities were of a different sort. He was being groomed to become king, and as such, there were many responsibilities weighing upon his mind and many worries, not the least of which were his brothers and his future wife. "It would seem the King of Francia is having some sort of trouble back home, but he did not expound upon it with me."
Catherine had not survived so many years as the consort of the High King without picking up a few important details here and there. Philippe trusted her with confidences that he did not give to many. "So I have heard," she nodded, offering a little of what she knew to ease his mind. "It would seem that Cardinal Bereth has reached too far beyond the powers given to him and has dared to attack the king's own blood kin in his absence. In light of such news, it is no surprise that Christian was so eager to send his daughter to us so soon."
News of the defeat of the Coimbran army had rushed ahead of the returning prince in triumph, and with it, the news that following behind that prince was the promised bride from Francia. The court at Berengaria was alive with gossip and excitement, eager for talk of the men folk who had left for war, to see them returned, and to hear of the little princess who was coming to them over land. But it was one woman in particular who longed for news of the Crown Prince, waiting with dignified impatience within the privacy of her own apartments for her eldest surviving son to greet her upon his return.
It was not to the Queen's apartments that the Crown Prince ventured first, but to see his father, the King. A good thing it was, too, as he was looking a little worse for wear after the hardship of battle and the journey home. It wasn't until after he'd eaten and bathed that he made his way at last to the queen's apartments, still exhausted and feeling like he could sleep for a week.
As always, there was the formality to get past - the presenting of his compliments, his announcement into the presence of his own mother, the dismissal of her ladies. But once that was done, Catherine rose to take his hands into hers, pouring her affection for her eldest son into every nuance of her speech and expression. "I have prayed night and day for your safe return," she told him warmly, stroking her gentle hand against his cheek. "All my boys left me to go to war, with no better company than the crabby old man sitting on the throne." She chuckled, drawing her Stephan to sit with her.
"That old crabby man is your husband," Stephan reminded her, a warm if tired smile for the woman who had birthed him and had at least a hand in raising him. "I am well, Mother. Your prayers kept me safe." His entire demeanor and tone of voice changed in her presence. She was one of the only people he knew that he could actually relax with and just be himself. With her, he was Stephan, her son, not the Crown Prince.
"You have not been sleeping enough," she said, predictably turning toward her habitual gentle scolding regarding his habits. "Too much playing at war, not enough sleep in a warm bed. Not a bed warmed by a mistress, either," she added, a playful twinkle in her dark eyes. She was exceedingly fond of him, but that didn't stop her from mothering him whenever she got the chance.
"I do not think this would be a good time for a mistress," he pointed out, knowing she must know about his future bride - it seemed the entire court was alive with excitement at the news. One would almost think it was them getting married and not him. He breathed a sigh as he settled back against the cushions and pushed the wayward curls he never could seem to tame out of his eyes. "In just a few weeks, you will have the daughter you have always hoped for."
"You did not see her while you were in Francia?" his mother asked curiously, though she knew that hope had been a very long shot. Unlike many other political agreements, this one had been guided by her hand, and as such, the arrangements for the princess' safe passage to the capital of Pomerania and her entry to the castle had been given into the Queen's care. "I am told she is a delicate little thing, without much understanding of the world beyond her father's court."
"There is little time for courtship when you are at war, Mother," he reminded her gently. There had only been one reason for his journey to Francia and it had not made for pleasure or to socialize. "Have you heard anything from my brothers lately?" he asked, deftly changing the subject before they dwelt on war too long.
Catherine rolled her eyes, her smile fond for the thought of her younger sons. "As I understand it, Felipe is having fun frightening Coimbran refugees on the border, and Maksim is ....well, I do not know what to think. One report states that he is courting Lady Georgiana, another that he keeps being arrested for lewd behavior. He does not admit either to me, of course."
"Frightening them?" Stephan echoed with a frown, remembering the conversation with Christian and his suggestion to be kind to those who straddled the border. "Does Felipe realize that Coimbran refugees are potentially future Pomeranian citizens?" he asked, wondering if the king knew about this and had anything to say or think about it.
The queen sighed softly, shaking her head. "You know your brother," she pointed out quietly. "He has always been hungry for war, for violence. It is why he was given Merek, a place to channel such desires. But this hounding of those who seek sanctuary - your father is furious. If Felipe does not take control of such urges soon, he may find himself confined to court."
"Are my brothers coming here for the wedding?" he asked further, not just out of curiosity. He thought someone needed to explain things to his younger brother, and he might be more inclined to listen if it came from him, rather than from their father, the king.
"They have been recalled, yes," his mother assured him. "It is a great occasion, and their absence would be noted. Maksim can be easily pulled from whatever his dissolute pastimes are this month, and Felipe will not deny a direct order from the king. There is talk that perhaps Felipe should be asked to escort your bride here from the border, but I am not inclined to allow it. He delights in teasing, and from what I have heard of her, she would not take it well."
From the expression on his face, it was clear that he concurred on the matter of Felipe. "I'm sure Christian will see to an escort," he told her, assuming the King of Francia would take his daughter's safety seriously enough to make sure she had a proper escort to see her across the border and safely to the capital, without either of his brothers needing to get involved.
"The Frankish ambassador here at court has already been dispatched to collect and escort her through our lands, to stand in proxy for her father," his mother confirmed with a nod. "As well as two dozen of the king's guard." She reached out to take her eldest son's hand, squeezing his fingers between her palms. "You seem troubled, Stephan. Will you not tell me what ails you, as you once did?"
One elbow propped against the arm of the chair, he stroked the short whiskers of his beard, a little bit lost in thought, until she drew him back from his wayward thoughts with a simple touch. He stopped stroking his beard and turned to her, shrugging his shoulders lightly. There had been a time when her firstborn son had confined in her most everything, but these days, his responsibilities were of a different sort. He was being groomed to become king, and as such, there were many responsibilities weighing upon his mind and many worries, not the least of which were his brothers and his future wife. "It would seem the King of Francia is having some sort of trouble back home, but he did not expound upon it with me."
Catherine had not survived so many years as the consort of the High King without picking up a few important details here and there. Philippe trusted her with confidences that he did not give to many. "So I have heard," she nodded, offering a little of what she knew to ease his mind. "It would seem that Cardinal Bereth has reached too far beyond the powers given to him and has dared to attack the king's own blood kin in his absence. In light of such news, it is no surprise that Christian was so eager to send his daughter to us so soon."