Topic: The Heart of the Kingdom

Prince Stephan

Date: 2014-12-17 22:01 EST
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."

Prince Stephan

Date: 2014-12-17 22:02 EST
What Christian had hinted at during their conversation following the battle made more sense now that his mother was taking him into her confidence. "Why was I not told?" Stephan asked, though the question was redundant and he did not really expect an answer. "How dare he?" he exclaimed, his face flushing with anger. Though he felt no great loyalty to Francia, he had taken a liking to Christian and wished no harm to come to him or his family. It was no wonder he was in such a hurry to send his eldest daughter away. "I gave him my word that his daughter would be safe, and I intend to keep that word."

"No harm has been done," his mother told him, not even bothering to offer an answer to his initial query. "As I understand it, the king's sister and his niece were imprisoned for a short while on dubious charges of heresy. They have been released, and Bereth is awaiting his own punishment. If he is very lucky, he will be recalled to Gelre, to suffer the Church's decree. If not, there will be blood spilled." She sighed softly - the death of a Prince of the Church, however corrupt, was not something undertaken lightly. "The princess is already within our borders, my darling. She will be entering Garia very soon."

"He's a traitor to those he was sworn to serve," Stephan said, having very little pity for Bereth if the charges were true. What if it had been his own mother, after all, or one of his brothers" "Bah, all this waiting makes me anxious. Perhaps I should ride out and meet them," he suggested, knowing it was not the norm, but all the idle time was getting on his nerves.

"And what then will you tell her father when he writes to us in fear of the virtue of his daughter before she was lawfully wed?" Catherine pointed out through a half-smile. "It will not be long before you have her beneath your eye, my son. We only await word that she has arrived at the royal lodge, barely five miles beyond the city. The next morning, you will go to her, and escort her here to the castle. And rest assured that the saddle has been modified for your comfort. Your father and I were not in the best of tempers when we finally arrived."

Stephan took all this in silently, like the dutiful son that he was, but he was not yet smiling. In fact, he looked as worried as ever. "What if she doesn't like me" What if she finds me repulsive?" he asked, though it was unlikely. He might not be as charming as Maksim or as handsome as Felipe, but he was the son who would be king.

His mother tried very hard, but she could not help the small chuckle that escaped her lips at his expressed concern. "Stephan, your father and I could not stand one another for years," she pointed out in amusement. "Yet I love him. He is my dearest friend, my closest confidante. He has given me three fine sons. I do not think you will have the same troubles we did. You are more temperate than he was, and from what I hear of her, she is less willful than I. I know her mother well enough; there has been little affection in the princess' life. Give her just a little of your time, your care, and I believe she will love you."

"I do not expect her to love me," Stephan said, that frown still in place. "But I would hope we can be friends," he added. It was not that he was a cynic, exactly, but he wasn't an idealist either. He didn't believe in love at first sight; he only hoped he would be a good husband, a good father, and most importantly, a good king.

"Have you not thought of yourself?" she asked curiously. "Have you not considered that it may be that you do not like her?" She didn't believe either one of them would have much objection to the other, but it amused her that Stephan should be so concerned, knowing what he did of his own parents' history.

"Perhaps," he said, not dismissing the idea entirely, though he doubted it. "She's young," he said, not bothering to mention that she was obviously a virgin, and he was not. He had promised to be gentle with her, and he would do what he could to keep that promise, but he was secretly hoping she was more woman than child. "I am nearly twice her age," he further pointed out, as if that should make a difference somehow.

"Not so young as she was when she was offered to us," his mother assured him in a gentle voice. "She gained her seventeenth year just a few days ago." She sighed softly, smiling at his concern. "She is lucky to be wedding you, my son. There are others, far older, who have vied for her hand and who would not treat her with such respect as you will. You are young and strong, handsome, and good-tempered. You are everything a man should be."

"And you, my dear mother, are biased," he pointed out, but she had finally gotten a smile out of him. He pulled her hand toward him and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "You will always be my first love," he told her, a dutiful son to a beloved mother. It was no secret that between her three sons, she favored the eldest, loving him best, though he'd never been able to sort out why.

She laughed, her hand turning to gently tug at his beard. "It seems only last year you were bemoaning your inability to grow this, and yet before the year's end, you will be a married man. You have always been the jewel of my heart, and I will love her for your sake, if for no other reason."

"It isn't much of a beard, is it?" he countered, an amused smile on his face, despite the solemnity of the subject matter. "You have been around men too long. It will be good for you to have a companion." Although there were plenty of ladies amidst the court to offer companionship, she had never had a daughter of her own, and Stephan was hoping the young princess would fulfill that void in his mother's life, especially since it seemed she'd received little affection from her own mother.

"If she will have me," Catherine chuckled, though it was true - despite the fact that she had fulfilled her duty three times over, she had never been blessed with the daughter she longed for. "But first you will take her on progress before you join us at Castile Woolgar for the celebration of the new year. The people, I am told, are very eager to see you married."

"It will be good to give them something to celebrate," he said, that frown back in place on his face again, for some reason. There was obviously something else bothering him - something he wasn't sure should be discussed with a woman, much less his mother.

Her brow rose at the sight of the frown on his face. "And what is it now that makes such a handsome face stern with private thought?" she asked, though there was a hint of command in her voice. If he didn't tell her, it was likely that she would tell his father to talk to him instead. There was very little Stephan managed to keep secret from his parents.

There was that shrug again, as if to say it was nothing. "Has Father ever spoken to you about..." He faltered a moment, unsure if he should bring this subject up to one who had never seen the horrors of battle or known what it felt like to kill a man. "Has he ever spoken to you of war" Of battle?"

Her expression sobered, gentle understanding touching her eyes. "He has," she said quietly. "In the quiet of the night, when there are none to hear but me, he has wept for those who died at his hand, and at his command. He once likened a battlefield to the plague pits, which I have seen, to draw some understanding from me. Do you struggle with death, my son?"

Prince Stephan

Date: 2014-12-17 22:03 EST
Though he knew his father was a good, caring man, it surprised him to hear his father had shed tears for the fallen, both that of his own men and his enemies. "Only a fool doesn't struggle with death, Mother. War is a gruesome business. Do not mistake me - I am no coward, but we are taught that to kill is a sin, and yet, in times of war, it cannot be helped."

"In times of war, the blood that is shed stains the hands of those who forced the conflict," his mother told him, quiet, but firm in this belief. "A soldier does as he is ordered, no matter his rank, but it is the men above him, and above his commanders, who bear the burden of death. The heretic council forced this war, and with it, the deaths of so many. I pray to the Goddess that they will be ended before they destroy us all with their blasphemy."

He found comfort in her words, but even more than that, he found strength and wisdom. Was it any wonder his father held her in such high esteem' "The Coimbrans brought this on themselves, but it is not just their soldiers who are paying the price." He sighed, closing his eyes a moment at the memory of so much bloodshed. "There were so many lives lost, Mother. Not only our own men, but those of Francia and Coimbra. I pray that this war comes to a swift end."

"As do all right thinking men and women," she agreed softly. "But come, this is no subject for a man soon to be wed. Or do you fear that you will not live to enjoy your wife and sons as they come to you?"

"They cannot win. There are too many of us and too few of them, but still they fight on. Doggedly, foolishly. And who suffers most but their own people?" He shook his head at her question. "It's not that. It's something that Christian said to me after the battle."

"Indeed?" Her interest was piqued by the news, not only that he had spoken with the King of Francia, but that words had been spoken that concerned her son so. "He is known to be a wise man; young, still, as a king, but wise in his dealings both with his own and with others. What said he to give you such cause for melancholy?"

"He spoke of those who live in the borderlands, those whose loyalties could sway either way. He suggested that we show them a little kindness, that perhaps they would serve our cause by handing over those who would sow discord." The words were very nearly verbatim as told to him by Christian. "I believe we should lead by example, more than by force. I am of a mind to speak with Felipe. Perhaps he will listen to me, but if he does not, then perhaps he will at least listen to his king." And there they were, circling back again to the matter of his brothers.

"Wise words, indeed," Catherine agreed thoughtfully. "Felipe is headstrong, yes, but I believe he will listen to wisdom. He has made Merek his home, and must surely know of the nature of those who live in the borderlands. His lust for blood may yet be eased by wisdom from his brother, and if not, his father will order him back to court, and we will all have to endure his bad temper."

"He would make a fine leader, if he could just manage himself better. I fear he will not listen when I become king, and then what am I to do with him' I will not only be his brother, but his sovereign. If he will not obey me, who will?" It was only one of many worries that weighed on his mind. He loved his brothers, like any man would, but as king, he would not be able to tolerate disobedience.

"He is of a strong will, like all my children, but he is not a fool, Stephan," she told him gently. "He will obey, if given a command by his king, whether that king be his father or his brother, as would you." She frowned then, glancing away. "But I fear that he will not live to see you crowned, so eager is he for the glory of battle."

"Then perhaps Father should send him to battle, so that he can see it is not all so glorious," Stephan suggested. Though his brother had seen to some skirmishes, he had not yet been involved in a battle the likes of which his elder brother had just encountered.

"Perhaps," Catherine agreed reluctantly. "Perhaps he should be sent as commander to the army that must go to Valentia, to remind King Clovis of the duty he owes to the High King." It cost her a great deal to say it - Valentia was her homeland, and Clovis her brother, but she was the wife of the High King of Pomerania and could not owe any allegiance higher than to him.

"I will suggest it, if you wish," he said, though he thought if she felt that strongly about it, she was likely to talk to Phillipe herself. "We are not at war with Valentia, Mother," he reminded her, touching her hand to offer some comfort. He knew how hard it was for her to suggest such a thing, but perhaps sending one of her own blood would help sway her brother better than a stranger.

"If my brother does not relent, we shall be, and Valentia will burn," she said simply. She knew how it would go, despite her husband's reluctance to deal decisively with king of his queen's homeland. Her hand covered her son's once again as she sought to change the subject. "I have not yet begun your shirts, I am sorry to say. I think, perhaps, your wife should take that role when she arrives here."

He offered a small smile, more for her sake than from any amusement he might be feeling. He gave her hand a light reassuring squeeze before at last letting go. "If only that is all we had to worry about was my shirts," he teased.

She laughed, raising his hand to her lips to kiss fondly. "You, my son, should think only of the princess coming to us," she told him teasingly. "And of the sons she will bear you. I expect a great many grandchildren before I die, from you and from your brothers."

"And a daughter," he added with a smile. At least one, he hoped, not only for his mother's sake, but for that of his future wife. While sons were often deemed more desirable than daughters, Stephan knew his mother had missed having a daughter of her own, and he hoped he could save his own wife from that same fate. "No more talk of politics today. Tell me all the gossip I missed while I was gone," he prodded her with an affectionate poke in the arm and a playful smile. While she may not have had any daughters, she had one son who held her in the highest esteem and felt for her only the utmost affection and devotion.

She laughed again, batting at his hand as they settled to easy talk between themselves, the way they had always done before. The House of Hasperan might well be the most feared and respected of the royal lines that governed Meringia, but they held something few others shared - a deep and abiding respect and love for one another from generation to generation. Though the court might not see it, and the land at large might not believe it, there was love at the heart of Pomerania, ready and willing to open its arms to daughter promised to it.