#Lord Clarmont/Revaire Widow

[angstmongertina]

contest

I am once again now technically two days late, but I had a lot of fun writing out this first date with Clarmont properly, especially with Morgaine’s more... cynical approach to it all, so you know what? Worth it. :P

The two lines of dialogue were lifted wholesale from the game.

Day Eight: Reticence

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When she first received the invitation from Lord Clarmont, she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. In her time at the capital of Revaire, he had always been studiously polite and certainly well-liked within court, but just quiet enough, just distant enough, with an air of melancholy and mystery to attract the attention of more than one besotted and ultimately unsuccessful noblewoman. Then again, suspecting what she did about his… affiliations, it was perhaps only a surprise that he, dashing and burdened as he was, did not hold more interest than he already did.

Which only made his request that she join him for a meal all the more baffling.

Were it anyone else, she might have suspected that he had an underlying motive, that perhaps he had figured out her intentions at the Summit and meant to do away with her before she could have a chance to reveal his secrets to the Crown. Except she knew she had been careful, had surely passed his test, such as it was, with the nervous Wellish princess. Had worked hard to win his trust.

It made a little more sense when her preoccupation led to another test in the form of the serving girl and the fallen letter. There was no doubt that, regardless of her own mental state, the collision would have occurred and the missive so carelessly dropped so as for her to see its contents perfectly. Even if the idea that she could be fooled by such an obvious test was laughable, it was, in some ways, almost a relief, both that her secret had not been found out, and that her adversary, such as they were, was not entirely incompetent.

It would have made for a disappointing, if not embarrassing, show otherwise.

And yet, sitting opposite of Lord Clarmont in the small dining room, faced with his earnest expression, his brilliant smile, she was beginning to wonder whether she had underestimated the man. Inquiries and deflections fell from his lips with ease, natural and understated, and she found herself intrigued despite herself, especially at the authenticity, the simple truth that rang in every statement.

In that moment, it suddenly made sense why he was likely acting as the face of the Revairan rebellion.

The revelation and its implications were almost enough to make her visibly stiffen, and certainly enough to completely derail her thoughts. Rather, she found herself fighting the sudden urge to gasp, to give any indication on the direction of her thoughts with more difficulty than she cared to admit.

Which was, of course, exactly when he spoke again, calm yet mischievous and utterly disarming as he asked about her past.

It was not, in any sense an unexpected question and certainly a strategy that she was intimately familiar with; she knew full well that information could be obtained from any type of personal information, that knowledge about a person lay in everything from the content of a tale to the way it was presented, and as such, she had long since prepared answers to such inquiries, tales and half-truths designed to show herself in the best possible light.

And, catching the warm earnestness in those bright blue eyes, she found the words dying on her tongue.

Instead, and without any conscious thought, she found herself transported back to her childhood, back to a time before the world had fallen into pieces around her, and she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out how.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of conversation and frantically racing thoughts. His story was lighthearted and innocuous enough, or at least would have been if not for the slip of tongue, and yet…

And yet, for the first time, rather than making a mental note of it, of finding a way to use the information to her advantage, she found herself wanting to distract, to comfort, to wipe the melancholy, the heaviness, from his brow, and it was infuriating.

As she rose to her feet with a quip at his proffered assistance, she once again found herself struggling for words against that heartstoppingly dazzling smile. As if sensing her hesitation, he bowed his head.

“Thank you very much for agreeing to have dinner with me, Lady Morgaine. I have enjoyed our time together very much.”

It was nothing more than the niceties expected of him and she knew this, knew the socially dictated lie that rolled off her tongue without hesitation, even as she curtsied, resisting the urge to send him a sharp look, to ascertain just how much subtext was hidden behind that studiously polite acknowledgement.

“No, thank you for the invitation, Lord Clarmont. I also enjoyed myself a great deal.”

Only when she stepped into the hall, his bright smile at her words still lingering in the back of her mind, did she allow herself to breathe. While it had certainly been an… experience dining with the man, and thus informative in it of itself, at least in earning his trust, it had also been, in some senses, an inefficient use of her time. She had gained little in concrete information and, considering her slip, perhaps lost more than that. On information useful for the Crown, she had nothing.

And despite it all, when she made it back to her quarters, it occurred to her that her parting statement had not been a falsehood after all.

[angstmongertina]

contrast

I love how I thought to myself “Oh, I should do something simple for opulent since I have an exam I want to take tomorrow” and instead ended up with like three scenes. It’s fine. We’re FINE. The exam is open notes anyway.

At last, my ability to actually incorporate dialogue has returned from the war, even if my ability to write things quickly and finish on time did not.

Day Twenty One: Opulent

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The journey to arrive at her new home took more than a few hours but despite all of the activity of the day, she could not find herself able to doze off. It was of no fault of the carriage, richly decorated for both appearance and comfort, such as she could barely feel the bumps along the roads they traversed, but try as she might, she remained stubbornly awake.

Whether it was the fault of her situation or the heavy, elaborate gown she had been dressed in for the ceremony, not even she could be sure.

Her new husband, thankfully, had no such qualms; he had fallen asleep not long after the first hour of their journey, leaving her blessedly alone with only her own thoughts for company. Just as she liked it.

Still, it was almost a relief when they turned off the main roads in favor of passing through a thickly wooded path. She sat up, barely noticing when her husband blinked awake and offered her a smile that was as salacious as it was unctuous. Instead, when they turned a corner and the grounds of her new home came into view, she turned to face the window, hands fisted into her lap as she stared.

While the estate of her childhood had been a castle of crumbling stone and musty corridors, of lands that had long since been bled dry of wealth, the barony before her was bright and plentiful. Fields, golden and luscious, stretched as far as she could see, a wealth of treasure that was almost extravagant in its abundance. Birds and small creatures darted through the trees. A stately mansion overlooked it all, all white stone and majestic stature, sitting with impeccable form, the trophy upon an already unspeakable richness.

And she was now mistress of it all. The thought was enough to bring a smile to her lips as Baron Namaire helped her from the carriage, his eyes sweeping over her form, as he led her through the rooms, hands lingering just too long against her bare skin. As he commanded her time for the night, to do that which was expected of his new bride.

It was all worth it.

It had to be.

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After her transition from the genteel poverty of her childhood to the wealth of her husband’s estate, Morgaine had thought that she had been prepared for her arrival at court.

She was wrong.

Picking her way through the crowd, she slowly traversed through the room, keeping an eye out for any familiar faces. Around her, young lords and ladies wheedled away their time, with hardly a care in the world, and no doubt blissfully ignorant of the whispers that threatened their very livelihoods. She was almost envious of that level of unawareness, caring only for the daily gossip and the most recent fashion. It would certainly have been a simpler life than the one she had carved for herself.

Then again, she would not even recognize the woman she’d have been had she been afforded such luxury.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced about her surroundings. When she had first arrived, the parlors and ballrooms within the royal palace had seemed almost comically large, an astronomical waste of space for the more intimate gatherings held within that could have been put towards better use, or so she had thought. But still, she had plastered a smile to her face, meeting with the other young lords and ladies, the wealthy sons and daughters of ruling nobles, learning of their circumstances and interests, beliefs and ignorances.

Despite the famed fickleness of the wealthy, gaining the trust of the Revairan elite had turned out to be simply a matter of a listening ear and a well-placed falsehood, an almost disappointingly simple challenge compared to the tasks of investigating the whispers of rebellion. And so she had climbed, rising in the ranks until she found herself invited to the upper echelons of court, winning the adulations of many and, more prestigiously, an invitation to a ball held in the royal prince and princess’ honor.

For one of her aspirations, it would have been societal suicide to turn down the offer. Between the whispers about the potential delegates for the Seven Kingdoms Summit and the opportunity to discover more about her fellow noblemen, it was hardly an imposition.

A flash of tanned skin and dark red caught her attention, a now familiar figure after her repeated investigations into the rebellion’s active members, and the slightest hint of a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth before she set off across the room in pursuit.

Besides, the general foolishness of those around her only made those who had some level of competency all the more interesting.

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It was strange to be back on Revairan soil.

When she had first accepted the invitation to attend the Summit, it was with the knowledge that her goals were first to identify more information about the rebellion, second to earn reputation and respect from the royal family, and third to find an advantageous match for herself, preferably one that allowed her to leave the reach of a land that seemed to care even less for her than she did for it.

She certainly had not anticipated returning in the arms of the very man she had gone to shadow, one who watched her with a mix of soft affection and nervous anticipation. Tilting her head up to meet his gaze more fully, she raised a single eyebrow.

“What is it?”

She laughed, settling more comfortably against him and reaching a lazy hand up to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes. “What’s on your mind? And don’t try to deny it.”

He made a face, even as his chest rumbled with the strength of his chuckle. “Am I truly so obvious?”

“Only to me.” The retort was easy, familiar, and she let her eyes flutter shut as he leaned down to brush his lips against her forehead, though she opened them the next second when he pulled away. “Do not think such shoddy attempts at misdirection can get you out of answering my question, though.”

“It’s nothing.” When she only stared at him, he coughed, the faintest hint of a flush crossing his face. “Nothing serious, at least.”

“I’m afraid you’ll find that only intrigues me more, not less, my lord.”

He shook his head, though the fond exasperation in his eyes only served to warm her heart. “I suppose I should have been expecting that. I promise it’s only the pointless concerns of a besotted fool.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, he stiffened, sitting upright so abruptly that his chin collided with her forehead. Wincing, she pressed a hand to her forehead but said nothing as she followed his gaze out the window.

Before her, the land seemed to almost rise to meet her gaze. Rolling hills dotted with flowers, small fields, and a brightly emerald woods stretched out across the land, almost dwarfing the manor itself. As the carriage drove past, faces turned towards them, open and cheerful at the return of their master. One bright, discerning eye caught hers with a wink before a splitting wolf whistle echoed through the air, and she nearly choked on her laughter at the mortification that suffused Clarmont’s face.

His cheeks were still somewhat red as he helped her out of the carriage, eyes roaming over her features with endearing hesitance. “It’s not much compared to the capital, or even your former barony, but…”

“Hush.” She stretched upward, cutting him off with a quick kiss. “It’s perfect.”

A grin blossomed across his face, warm and contagious, as he bowed over her hand. “Well, in that case, welcome home.”

[angstmongertina]

Impressions (7KPP)

After talking with @teaandinanity about Widows, my finger slipped and now I’m deep in Widow hell and have two (2) new Widows to romance Clarmont and Lyon. This is all her fault. :P

Lady Morgaine is a result of me deciding I wanted to make a Widow with a horrible backstory, as well as a selfish, immoral Widow who was at the Summit in part to investigate Lord Clarmont as a part of the Revairan rebellion, only to fall in love with him. And because of the angst potential, she has risen to become one of my favorite ships. Go figure.

AO3 Link

There were a few things that Lady Morgaine, Dowager Baroness Namaire, knew to be true regarding Lord Clarmont of Revaire.

She knew that despite his favor with the royal family, he had a reputation for being a recluse at court, hardly showing up for social functions, at least in the year that she had been there. She knew through… organizing her now late husband’s correspondence that there were darker forces at play within the power struggles of the kingdom, forces in which the lord more than likely had his own involvement. She had seen and heard enough in the past two weeks to know that he had additional interests, that the same plots which swirled around the Revairan throne existed too at the Summit, with him in their midst.

She knew that Lord Clarmont was dangerous, that his conspiracy threatened the carefully constructed position that she had given up so much to achieve for herself. He was a threat in every sense of the word, to her and to her position and goals.

He was also nothing like she would have expected from the shadowy figure who haunted the Crown with the quiet threats of revolution. Quiet and controlled though he may have been, he was also oddly trusting and disarmingly sincere, a combination that could no doubt win him allies, but also allowed individuals with less savory ideals, individuals like her, to infiltrate his defenses and gain access to his thoughts. A handful of blithe lies, some basic observational skills, a smile or two at just the right time, and the man had turned into putty in her capable hands.

It would almost have been disappointing if it weren’t so convenient.

Then again, there was something to be said for the fact that at least something had gone right in the past two weeks. It was one thing to be dismissed so summarily by the Matchmaker—that, at least, she could and would prove the woman wrong on—but between the sheer audacity of someone to attempt to blackmail her on the Isle and what was likely a separate attempt to kill her by way of out of control horse, one that she was beginning to suspect was set up by the daughter of the very family she was supporting through her investigations…

Gritting her teeth at the sudden wave of anger that swept, fiery hot, through her veins, she marched out of the castle. There were too many people inside, too much conversation and general noise, between the bustle of servants and the chatter of the other delegates, apparently intent on spilling all of their secrets to others under the foolish guise of friendship, under that naive concept of trust. Instead, she found herself crossing the grass, moving with so much fierce intent that a figure she belatedly recognized as Emmett leapt out of her path without so much as a greeting.

Not that she was in the mood to offer him much of one in the first place.

It was not until she had made her way into the gardens that she slowed, feeling her body relax as the sounds and sights of the castle disappeared, replaced by hedges and flowerbeds that shone in brilliant colors, some of which she had never seen before, in her small corner of Revaire. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she was alone, far from the pressures of the Summit and the threats to her livelihood and…

“Lady Morgaine?”

She froze, the voice ringing out already familiar after just the scant week and a half. Naturally, if anyone had to be within range, it was him. For a moment, she contemplated turning around, disappearing into the shadows and retreating to her room, far from the expectations of her fellow delegates, but she set her mouth, forcing her limbs into stillness.

She had already done more than her fair share of running in the past years. She would do so no longer.

Instead plastering her most charming smile on her face, she turned, dropping into a proper curtsy. “Why, Lord Clarmont! Good day.” She glanced at the direction from whence he came, towards the hedges which rose easily above her head in a labyrinth, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you lost?”

As she expected, any hint of suspicion disappeared from his face faster than the sun in the bitterest Revairan winter, and he laughed, the sound natural and strangely pleasant. “Do you have so little faith in me that you presume I would get hopelessly lost so close to the entrance, as poetic as that might be?”

She let her eyes widen in a show of innocence. “Not at all, my lord. Only inquiring as to the success in your presumed endeavors.”

“A most pretty way of saying the same thing, I see, but I fear you have made one error in your inquiry.” For a second, she froze, cursing her glib slip of the tongue, before schooling her face into appropriate curiosity, but if he noticed, he gave no sign, instead only chuckling. “You supposed I might answer truthfully though it would be most unbecoming to admit anything but success before as magnificent a lady as yourself.”

In spite of herself, she could feel her body relaxing as she smiled back, this time with all the sincerity that her previous expression lacked. “False flattery, while always appreciated, will not serve to distract me from your lack of answer.”

His eyes seemed to dance as he bowed at her, offering an arm. “Then I suppose I have nothing to it but to prove myself directly, if you are amenable to the offer of an escort.”

She hesitated, taking the time to examine him until he grinned down at her, expression openly boyish. “Unless you would prove your stated faith in myself, not to mention your faith in your own navigational skills, false?”

Reluctantly amused, she dropped into another curtsy, this time in a facsimile of propriety. “Then how can I refuse such a challenge? I suppose I will simply have to thank you kindly, Lord Clarmont.”

It only occurred to her later that, though she learned nothing new from the endeavor, she could not find it in herself to consider the hour spent exploring the gardens a waste of time.

[angstmongertina]

arrival

I was a bit stumped on this one, before I remembered the climate of Vail Isle, and then of course Clarmont had to interrupt and actually have some dialogue. Damn my shipper self LOL.

Day Twelve: Temperate

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For all of her plotting and scheming, for all the time and energy she spent making her case and winning the approval of the royal family, it was a very different thing to be actually on her way to the Seven Kingdoms Summit. Especially for a young widow from the most backwater county in all of Revaire, who had, until that point, never traveled farther than to the capital, the trip, complete with conniving fellow delegates and several bouts of seasickness, was an experience that she would be perfectly happy to never repeat again.

Standing at the bow of the ship, Morgaine squinted out across the water. The seas had calmed since the night before, gently rolling waves and a warm, steady breeze propelling them along at a rapid pace. Even so, she could hardly wait to be free from the confines of the ship, to set about furthering her goals and investigations, the responsibilities, so to speak, that she had not the opportunity to pursue while in such close quarters with half a dozen delegates that she didn’t trust as far as she could throw.

“Anything in sight?”

The voice, light and cheerful, caught her off-guard and she turned on instinct, stiffening as she recognized the bright hair and lithe build of the man who had, at some point, appeared beside her.

“Lord Clarmont.”

As if noticing the surprise in her gaze, he offered a warm smile. “Good day, Lady Morgaine. I hear from the captain that Vail Isle should be visible any moment now. I suspect you are as eager as I am for the first glimpse of the place that will decide the future for both ourselves and the kingdoms as a whole.”

She lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Perhaps less so that than the need for some fresh air, as well as some semblance of peace. Our fellows are not always the most… serene, even in the best of times. Present company excluded, of course.”

His chuckle was quiet, tinged with some strange emotion, though the sound was carried away by the swift wind before she could attempt to identify it. “Indeed, though I fear that would be a rare trait to find in Revaire.”

She opened her mouth, though before she could think of what to say, her eye caught the view on the horizon and her jaw dropped.

Seemingly emerging from nowhere, Vail isle was a far cry from the simple land of her imagination. Soft green grass covered the ground, adorned with flowers of all hues and emerald trees. Rising from the blanket of green was a sturdy plateau, upon which rested a breathtaking palace of stone and glass. Even from the distance, it seemed to shine in the midday sun, a bastion of warmth and welcome.

“Beautiful.” The soft voice drifting over her shoulder was full of awe and wonder, and she couldn’t help but agree; for a moment, for one shining, impossible second, even she found herself believing in the magic of the island.

“Look!” The loud screech from behind her shattered the illusion, and she stiffened as Lady Veronique rushed up to the railing, nearly knocking her arm out of the way. “The isle! We’re almost there! Oh, it’s so lovely I can scarcely believe my eyes!”

Biting back a retort with some difficulty, she instead plastered a smile to her face. “Indeed. If you’ll excuse me?”

The woman hardly seemed to notice, but Lord Clarmont reached out a hand and she paused, giving him a questioning look. “Yes, my lord?”

“I don’t suppose you wish to stay.”

“With everyone here?” She chuckled. “I expect I will have spent more than enough time in such company by the end of the Summit as it is. Besides, as you said, with our arrival so close at hand, we have our futures to prepare for.”

Her voice was lighthearted, but when no response was forthcoming, she raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“I—” He shook his head, the serious expression on his face morphing back into a polite smile. “Nothing, my lady. I apologize for my wandering thoughts. I suppose I will see you at the banquet, then. It should be an interesting seven weeks.”

She gave a small smile and a curtsy, though before she descended the stairs below deck, she couldn’t help but turn and give the island, and her conversational partner another glance.

It would be an interesting seven weeks, indeed. Of that, she had no doubt.

[angstmongertina]

Also, in case my previous posts crying over Duke Lyon haven’t made it abundantly clear, @voidnoodles got me into playing Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem about a week ago, and it’s so good! The plot is very intriguing, the characters are so varied, THE LIs CAME FOR MY FUCKING LIFE, and there’s great replayability value to it!

Featured here are my Jiyel scholar, Lady Camellia, and my Arland girl, Princess Temperance.

Camellia and Duke Lyon are adorably nerdy together and also best friends with Noodles’ Wellin Countess Peti and @seckritlab‘s Hise Lady Rosa (both of whom were instrumental in making sure she had the courage to ask him out by helping push her off the cliff LOL).

Meanwhile, Temperance is quite taken with Lord Clarmont and also nearly inseparable from Noodles’ Revaire Lady Adelaide after a bit of a rough start. Because the idea of the Revaire Widow and the Sheltered Princess supporting each other to shed their duties and live for themselves is SO GOOD.

Long story short, I love this game and I can’t wait for the full release! :D

(Dollmakers are found here and here respectively.)