192, Spring: Orissa, the Territory Court’s Private Landing Pad and then tour of palace.
(This thread follows Bend Toward Skies Most Grey and I Spy with my Little Eye.)


Nharkava.

It seemed impossible that this fierce jungle paradise bordered the frigid Glacian basin. Not long ago, standing upon the Landing Pad at his cousin - the Sapphire Priestess Hjordis Nurmi - regal ancestral home in Glacia, they had been surrounded by icy wind, crystalline air and the pristine joy of a spring snow storm. Now, warm silken air caressed around and over the Red Shields Haakon had used to shelter both himself and his cousin from the Winds as he carried them to Orissa.

The capitol of Nharkava, the land of which he was now Steward.

Haakon’s arm tightened briefly, as he carefully helped his Cousin find her footing before he dropped the Shields. Released, the last cool breath of Glacia’s air poofed into a steaming mist, then blew into the rich, vibrant jungle. Macaws and Toucans cried out as the brilliant morning sun warred with the sudden cloud. Monkeys and other jungle animals hollered as the cool air startled them. Brilliant, diamond hard sky was pierced with a thousand colors of green, and a rainbow of pearlescent colors formed into leaves, flowers, birds, frogs, lizards and insects. Flowers of all sorts and sizes ringed the green canopy that ringed the Territory Court’s private Landing Pad, an untamed riot that seemed both promise and threat.

At least to Haakon.

Framed in that perfect imagery was the lavish Territory Seat of Nharkava. It’s brilliant colors and ornate decorations were fair warning of the vibrant people and rich customs of the land. Lady Brenden’s wrath had left a surprising amount of the palace untouched, and the highly competent staff had swiftly put to order that which needed repairing. That swiftness, the very quality of the work, spoke not to their devotion to their Glacian overlords, but to the loyalty and love they bore for their own history and culture.

Only two weeks after the biter destruction of Lady Maarika Sydän-Harmaa’s Court in Glacia, this complex edifice did not yet feel like home. Yet the warm air, the intricate mix of jungle scents and Psychic presences which greeted Haakon, did. Even the foreign-feeling Nharkavan auras.

It was their home, after all.

Haakon’s harsh voice was less jarring, with the jungle serenade in the background. “Welcome to Nharkava, Lady Nurmi.” He bowed formally, pride in her warring with a sinking feeling. He realized that he had planned her first glimpse of this place so carefully because he wished her to adore it. He moved forward and off of the stone lip, before turning to assist her in stepping down from the Landing Pad. Upon his expected arrival the Gate of Webs, Craft and weapons between the Landing Pad and the main Estate had been lowered the moment he arrived. The very competent staff had notified him upon private Thread the when it was safe to debark.

The Coach carrying his cousin’s dependents and possessions would be arriving soon after them, so Haakon could not give Hjordis as long as he would have liked to catch her breath and brace against the veritable assault on the senes that Nharkava could offer. Once Hjordis was safely on the ground, Haakon saluted the officer in charge and introduced the Sapphire Priestess to each guardsman there. Their deference was for more than his Red Jewel; it was something deep and indefinable that had come to his Queen’s people in recent weeks. Yes, there was respect for him as Steward; care for his Cousin as his relative, a Priestess and their Queen’s chosen High Priestess. But it was even more; that silent cry to battle that echoed every now and again in their Queen’s scent had changed them all.

The pain at Nharkava’s core was familiar enough. It was the hope he felt, when he thought of caring for this Territory, that seemed so alien. Nothing could save his beloved Glacia from the cruel Messiah at her helm; but for Nharkava, there was yet hope. He saw no way out, for his Queen or her sister; for the gentle Lady Sanna or the other hostages gathered to bend their neck beneath Lady Brenden’s heel. But here?

Hope.

Into this war zone, the Red Prince brought his beloved cousin. Haakon did not fool himself; Lady Brenden had declared war upon this nation when she’d murdered her own parents without even an attempt to negotiate their release. He trusted no one more, to guide his Queen; Hjordis Nurmi was both devout, and wise. If anyone could think of inventive ways to subtly protect their charges from their overlords, it would be Hjordis.

His stern features softened into an almost-smile as he offered his cousin and the court’s true High Priestess his arm, prepared to Escort her on a brief tour of his favorite places. His mind ranged further afield, notifying Prince Raines of their arrival and brushing his Queen’s mind with no more than a sense of accomplishment, and his presence. She’d know he was back, anyway; that he did not doubt.

192, Spring: Orissa, the Territory Court’s Private Landing Pad and then tour of palace.
(This thread follows Bend Toward Skies Most Grey and I Spy with my Little Eye.)

Nharkava worked it’s magic upon Prince Haakon’s cousin.

Every fierce cry of the birds and fluttering wonder of the butterflies seemed etched onto the souls of the people here. You could never subjugate them; the only way to force them into Glacia’s mold would be to burn out the jungle and invite an eternal winter. Not even the Eyrien War Machine had managed that; the terror of two Realms had retreated in confusion after a year. Glacia, of course, was more stubborn. His homeland’s cursed Messiah held all Glacia in thrall. No Glacian could hope to truly belong; their frozen souls must melt. No conqueror would ever rule, not in truth, for the jungle life could not be forced, only yielded too.

He’d have missed it, if his Queen had not taught him the dance and rhythm of souls; the yielding and the taking in turn. Yet his cousin saw the truth of this place at once; pride soared within him. A bitter joy; bitter, because he risked her. Risked them all, for a Queen he hadn’t wanted and a Territory that could only hate him.

Yet now? He would not choose differently.

This was the fight he’d been born for. One with a chance at winning, however slender.

No more than Lady Hjordis, was Haakon prone to public displays of emotion. But his own, rusty laugh had mingled with her beautiful, richly dark one, as the last gasp of their shared homeland mingled with the jungle and was gone. She was beautiful, on any occasion; yet today her cerulean eyes glowed as she drank in the fierce and vivid life around them. Without hesitation, or doubt she understood the deadly trap here.

Lady Hjordis’ moral courage had ever outstripped his own.

The warm, jungle air brushed over her, cooled by skillful craft that let wind and sun through only enough to Heal, not hinder. Haakon wielded the same. The instinct to maintain hers was strong but she must be able to stand on her own, so he contented himself with studying her work. It had been a skill he’d learned only after his arrival, yet hers seemed well practiced. Siphoning cool in instead of out had not ever been necessary in Glacia. Not once. Now it was literally life or death; too much sun caused its own series of bitter illnesses.

Haakon’s own skin was weathered and rough; sunburnt despite Glacia’s cooler climate, due to his rough lifestyle. But his cousin had not even that protection; her skin was silken soft and without visible flaw in the pale gold and cream confection she’d chosen. Her laughter had transmuted to a vivid fear; that and rage lashed through her Psychic Scent, darkened her eyes even as her grip upon him grew fierce. The emotions storming within her transmuted to that odd guilt so many here bore, for the actions of their enemies, upon those who now must perceive them as enemies in turn.

The sacred brush of his cousin’s power assured him that Lady Hjordis shielded them from anyone overhearing them with a Sapphire Aural Shield.. Courteously, he followed suit at his own depth of the Red. Life seemed to breathe into her, from Nharkava; as if it’s very daring and hope had ignited some heretofore unknown fire of the soul in the devout Priestess. She touched her Prayer Book - the one she’d made herself, with her own hand.

Roughened, battle hardened fingers brushed he spine of her Prayer Book with reverence.

“You’ll need to make a second volume. For Nharkava.” He pause, thinking over all she had said. There was no easy answer in any of it. His hand lifted to brush reassuringly over the back of her hand; dual Shielded as they were, it was the lightest of intersections.

“The contract is signed, post dated, and sealed in Blood and Craft. It will at least complicate matters, and buy us time.” A long silence followed, as he sought the right words; even here, he did not outright voice treason. The cost to others would be too high, if it were scried.

“I believe that Glacia cannot possibly succeed in ruling Nharkava. Yet Lady Brenden’s last official act, before assigning our Queen here was to destroy the native rulers. Their Territory Queen, all three Province Queens and any Wards or students of theirs. At a minimum, four of that rare and sacred Caste were killed that day.”

“Every Nharkavan must hate every Glacian, even when they offer them shelter.” Haakon hated speaking that truth. Hated the coldness in him, that left him unable to comfort one who was so dear to him. Who risked everything for the binding trust and love between them. Yet he could not say it; could not risk a thank you in so public a venue.

“They must hate us, if all they know of you and I, our Court, is where we were born, how we look.” That hate was justified; but it was not helpful. It interfered, so Haakon battled it the only way he could: Slowly. He gave his tactic as a gift, offering not comfort or the warm hug she deserved, but ... hope.

“The word ‘we’ is our enemy, now.” He chose his words with extreme care, meticulous as always. Almost he had resorted to a private Thread between them, but she was alive and he did not wish her to feel that mental touch as a scold or rejection to the subtle joy she revealed. He cherished that fearful joy, the light of purpose in her eyes, and feared to so much as breathe lest he endanger it.

“Any generalized term should be avoided when referring to this Court. Each of us must differentiate ourselves as individuals, even to the point of allowing first names. Not ‘a Glacian Steward ruling Nharkava.’ But ‘Prince Haakon Gunvadlsson, Lady Maarika’s Steward.’ Not the Glacian High Priestess of Orissa, but ‘Lady Hjordis Nurmi, Lady Maarika’s High Priestess.’” This, from a man who still struggled to use his Queen’s unadorned first name, and had addressed his beloved cousin so only a handful of times in their life.

“It seems a small thing,” he said firmly, willing it to be true. Yet ... it is vast. “We must become distinct individuals, especially the Queen of our Heart, thus standing apart from our heritage or theirs.” He paused, for it was so slender a thing. So fragile. When every move had to be so terribly subtle, and the people they were so arduously courting had no reason to search for hidden truths in their words. Despair threatened; was battled down by the symphony of life around him. He waited for the cries to fade, as if speaking as much to the jungle as to his cousin.

“I never argue with their hate; I never insinuate my post is anything but temporary. They have a right to their hate and fear; it is justified. I strive to be seen for what I do rather than who I am.” a vast stillness echoed his words, as if something out there listened.

“We do not belong here, as a conquering people. It is entirely possible we will not be allowed to stay, even if hope wins out. But I think Nharkava will leave it’s mark upon us, forever.” His gaze lifted from hers at last, to drink in the vivid landscape.

“Their land is sacred to them.” To me.

“I believe it will change us like a Queen’s Bond does. If we survive the conflict, we will neither fit here, nor within Glacia.”

 “But we will be the better for it.”

192, Spring: Orissa, the Territory Court’s Private Landing Pad and then tour of palace.
(This thread follows Bend Toward Skies Most Grey and I Spy with my Little Eye.)

Haakon Gunvaldsson watched his cousin’s lovely, cerulean gaze; the way her face so subtly mirrored the intricate emotions of her Psychic Scent. The rage and disquiet he knew his words must produce pained him, deeply. He felt both the shame of hurting her, and the coiled rage of not being able to protect her from that very painful truth. If he’d only been Darker Jeweled, smarter, stronger he need not surrender his homeland to the Silent Civil War.

Hjordis listened intently, not offended, though he knew his manner could irritate. Nor did she tune him out, or interrupt with questions. She heard him out, and her brilliant mind considered all that he had said. She summarized his points with vastly fewer words, and his almost-smile snuck out of hiding once more. He nodded approval to each of her statements, though his expression retreated to remote as he considered the incredible trial she would face just trying to get any Nharkavan to discuss their actual customs or beliefs with her. Not after 20 years of systematic repression.

Outlawing dancing.

Haakon was not about to arrest, detain, harm or complain about anyone for a dance.

The utter stillness that came over his cousin, was as loud a shout of defiance and rejection as Haakon had ever seen. If what the Queen of Glacia had done to their people and the Dark Religion near to broke Haakon’s heart, how much heavier would the rage and hurt feel, to a devout Priestess like his cousin? He could not mend the wound, nor even bind it up. But he could offer what tiny sliver of hope he’d found, before addressing her deadly dangerous comment upon the Glacian Territory Court.

“They love music, with their worship. One of the early rules enacted to suppress the local faith was to forbid dancing. I’m unclear, even yet, if its only Priestesses dancing our predecessors took exception to, or any religious or cultural performance. But you might find a common ground through your own great love of music.”

His gaze swept over the area, searching for those who might have reacted to her words; the gesture was habit, not true expectation that they were being observed. He considered her questions carefully, with all of the serious thought he’d into that very subject since the day his mother died.

“The Blood have no law against murder. Which means you can only avenge a murder if you can gather a larger strength of Jewels than the killer.”

“A Queen’s Bond ... is bitterly powerful. Even if her own Bonded hated her, I doubt they could either act against her, or stand aside for someone else to do so. And she has three Ebon Grey’s for her Triangle. Lady Maarika’s whole gathered Court could not protect our Lady from even one, when he dared to touch her against her will.”

“Yet ... until recently, all of the Territory Queen’s actions have been small, incremental violations. Most of her assurances and edicts have been first spread amongst the Priestesses, who are the symbols of Justice in Glacia.”

His voice dropped, to a deadly quiet, furious whisper. “It is only in the last year that she has taken to moving against Dark Jewels, as well as light. You know where this is headed. Before she is done, only those of her Jewel rank or Darker will be free.”

Perfect, soft hands adjusted her hat, and Haakon fell silent until it was perfectly arranged. He nodded, to indicate approval when it at last met with the rigid, exacting standards of their homeland. Then he reached out with Craft, and chose a small, local flower to complement her eyes, and wove it delicately through the brass brads upon her hat. He had no notion if his cousin would tolerate the small rebellion, and would make no demure whatsoever if she removed it.

“First to your rooms.”

Yet the walk, from the Landing Pad to her rooms, was nearly all either outside, or through courtyards. At last, they fetched up at a lovely private courtyard, which opened onto an exquisite room. The fountain in the middle was filled with native, brightly colored fish, and the large trees offered welcome shade and the illusion of coolness.

“I thought it would please you, to have a fountain. But your rooms can be changed, if you prefer elsewhere.” Unlike most ruling palaces, there were many empty rooms, for Maarika’s staff was far from full strength.

192, Spring: Orissa, the Territory Court’s Private Landing Pad and then tour of palace.
(This thread follows Bend Toward Skies Most Grey and I Spy with my Little Eye.)

Haakon Gunvaldsson remained a stoic, unyielding stone in his beloved cousin’s rage. He reminded himself that telling her these things now, Sight & Sound Shielded, Psychic Shielded, warded by every power at his command, he was protecting her.

Not tormenting her.

The battle rage that gripped the fierce Priestess threatened to erupt into motion, for a few seconds. When she went still, curled upon herself, but he was not fooled; she was protecting every thing here from a wrath that wanted to demand a Price from anyone who prevented another from reaching out to Mother Night.

His own tension eased, as hers did; only when she’d returned enough to herself to see him, and address him, did he clasp her hand between his own rough ones. He nodded her approval of trying to find a way to at east avoid persecuting dancing, should a way be found that would not condemn them, dancers and all, to Lady Elisif Brenden’s wrath.

“The Northern most Province is nearly entirely possessed of Glacian trained and approved Priestesses. Child Priestesses who, at their Birthright, might descend to a Dark Jewel are systematically taken to Glacia to be tutored until their Offering. I have so far been unable to discern where they are taken. From what my records show the other two Provinces are less in Glacia’s thrall.”

When she spoke of that great hurt in her heart, Haakon raised her gloved hands to his lips and pressed a reverent kiss upon them. “We will speak with Lady Maarika; if he remains in the Palace ... it is unlikely. But we may be able to attain a residence for him out of public view. Would it wound you less, to have me hold it?” The offer was neither condescending nor arrogant; his cousin knew his secret. The one that would tear his family apart, should Glacia learn of it. But that very flaw, that deep fault, might ease her heart, a tiny bit, while they sought healing and true freedom for her father.

They walked on then, as she placed her hand upon his arm once more. Gently, she soothed the near-invisible, bitter rage he felt. The soothing connection between them, real and deep, silently assured him that she was safe. That she was here, where he had some small chance to protect her. Their silence was soothing and familiar, rather than brooding.

Haakon’s gaze was fixed upon Hjordis, as they came to the courtyard. He was absurdly proud of the fountain here, for no reason that he could discern. Only that something of it beauty and shape had reminded him of his Cousin. The staff here had gone from utterly terrified to the same bemused indulgence his Lady’s bore when as he fussed over their preparations for the arrival of his cousin. The fourth or fifth time he’d offer to attempt to Cleanse the Psychic impressions from the room with his Red, Lady Patel had finally stepped in to shoe him off. It was one of the kinder, happier exchanges he’d ever had with a Nharkavan, and that left a subtle brush of warmth, welcome and acceptance in the room.

Watching his cousin come alive for the elegant rooms pleased Haakon immensely, and he slowly relaxed. Her soft, delighted laughter summoned him the rest of the way indoors. She fit in her rooms, as he did in his. How neatly and easily she placed her things was proof enough of that.

But it was the sudden, deep and genuine hug that wrung a laugh out of him. He wrapped his arms about her in a sheltering, loving embrace, his face threatening to squish her perfect hat. He, the Prince, the diplomat was bereft of words. He could not share with her his deeper emotions, as he could with Lady Maarika.

Once again she reached past that barrier within him, offering him the quiet solace of Communion; tending to his Jewels and soul at once. His fierce embrace softened, and the words in his heart sought release.

“I could not settle, with you so far away.” The Queen Bond was so much; he could not choose to be other than with his Lady. Yet it had not erased or lessened those ties and loves that guided and shaped who he was.

Lady Maarika had not let it, despite the initial instincts to make it so.

His beloved cousin examined him quiet carefully, her scrutiny both practiced and concerned; he had no doubt she correctly traced the lines of stress and work upon his features, but also the spark of hope that burrowed under his skin.

“As you are rested, let us by all means seek out my Lady. She has a great need of you.”

They walked this time through the palace itself. Brilliantly colored rooms filled with life sized friezes of elephants (Haakon paused in mild bemusement and delight at each such item), and brilliant crimson and gold decoration (complementing his Jewel, oddly enough) alternated with elegant water works and lovely gardens.

Until they came to the large Orissa formal garden. There, in the midst of the grand display, was his Queen. He paused, though he needed no Craft to know precisely in what direction his Queen was. The shear effort of attaining anything resembling proper security for a Garden of that size had given Haakon nightmares for weeks; he was utterly grateful to be Steward, and not Master of the Guard. Yet Finn Hallman was a devious and clever man who had eventually come up with a security organization that they could all live with.

Haakon’s unerring gaze went at once to the small, elegant white building, that in Glacia would be some sort of Gazebo. Here, he had no notion as to its formal name, merely referring to it as  the prettiest gazebo in the Orissa formal garden. Silently, he guided his cousin to this meeting, tension once more clawing at him.

He needed, quiet desperately, for these two central people in his life to be in accord. Once more words failed him; he’d told Hjordis all about the factual things she needed to know, yet had never found words for the deeply spiritual and brilliant Lady who was the central heart and crowning Jewel of this entire palace.

Haakon approached slowly, formally saluting the Blood Opal Warlord Rugaar with a closed fist to his chest, then bowing with deep precision to his Queen, all with a deadly, athletic grace that did not dislodge his beloved cousin from his arm.

“Lord Lang, Lady Sydän-Harmaa, my beloved cousin, Lady Hjordis Nurmi ...”

His words faded to silence; a subtle feeling from the Wound-in-his-Soul stole the breath from his lungs, that would have allowed him to finish his introductions.

If the time to consider the moment of meeting Haakon's Queen had been given more than the nervous jitters than Hjordis had allowed it, a soft, amused laugh might have been her response for the very idea that she fall so completely as she had into the other blonde's presence. Lady Maarika was more soft, pleasant sunlight in early spring with a touch of winter to Hjordis' own glacial moonlight presence. Even though Haakon had told her plenty about the Lady Sydän, to be presented with the woman herself was terribly startling. It was akin to having a blessed, perfect painting described rather than the heart healed while still beating. Hjordis had spent her life in a protected, cautious state, but now, in this moment she was aware vividly that only half breaths had been taken her entire life. The Priestess' lips parted, then closed. Almost, she took a step forward, body practically moving upon its own accord before she swiftly rethought that approach; Haakon's cousin or no, there was Protocol to be observed.

If the lady was confused, then surely Hjordis only echoed the same feeling and thoughts. But ah, then the issue was relieved for her, because Maarika herself stepped forward with a smile as bright as the Nharkavan sun. For several moments Hjordis only stared at the woman's hands, before it shortly dawned upon her that she was being invited to take them, which of course she did. What Hjordis did not expect was warm silk. That was what the Queen's skin felt like, a combination of a best friend, the warmth of a friend that with Glacia the way it was, she had never been able to obtain, not to speak of give to another, and so many other things. It took everything not to gently sway upon her own feet while trying to understand what it was she was feeling. With confusion, she looked at Haakon, but was immediately drawn back to the Lady Maarika like a moth to a bonfire.

Head bowing, Hjordis threaded her fingers with Maarika's. That felt like it made perfect emotional sense. "Possible? I could entertain the mystical and scientific discourse, but I cannot imagine that is what you mean, to desire such dry and boring conversation," It was a soft, soprano echo of the Queen's words with her own refined opinion added in all while the Priestess did her very best to stop falling into Maarika's eyes but couldn't exactly manage that feat. Perfectly pale cheeks turned a soft pink in a combination of confusion and slight embarrassment. Absolutely no-one would want to listen to her go on for hours about various historical ramifications of Craft, she was sure of it. Hjordis had shaken her head as she attempted to parse through what the lady could mean, until the knowledge of her own Priestess Caste smacked her in the face with exactly what she was feeling, The Sapphire Priestess didn't dare actually speak the word, instead, stepping gently around the issue at hand while marvelling at the incredible. Moreover, she understood with blade like precision why Haakon spoke of Maarika the way he did; she was so beautiful it would have been physically painful to look at her, if of course, Hjordis had not all together been a great deal more settled than her intense cousin was. Not to say that she did not have that same essence, but it was by contrast, despite the Sapphire she bore, ferociously disciplined.

In dislike or disapproval, Hjordis was not the type to shout or yell, but more carefully use reason and knowledge to slam into her opponent with the formality and strength of her beliefs. More over, she was unflinchingly loyal. The Priestess never, ever flaunted the aristocratic bearing gained through her deceased mother, but rather let it breathe sweetly around without judgement. Just now however, she remained perfectly, delightfully centered upon the Queen.

Yours ... 

Because, surely, such a rare thing like a star exploding hadn't just happened to her. The instinct to say, but I am simply a quiet author rose up and fell away. To say as much would have been perhaps insulting to the place that the Lady Maarika had been trying to permit her, was seemingly now solved, one might so hope. "Ah. Hello. We are ... well met, Lady, I do so kindly pray." The soft laughter caused Hjordis' pulse to rush forth until it was all she could hear, nearly.

Sheer will kept her on her feet, instead of what the riot of colour dancing before her eyes demanded - fainting. "The garden suits you," she said in a rush of interest. "The greater question however, is do I suit your purposes?" Almost absently, her left thumb brushed over the back of Maarika's hand while waiting for an answer.

Please let me stay, she thought, aware suddenly that she'd do almost anything safe, or even not safe for this lady, this Queen. It was blessed and curious, even as a piece of her was terribly afraid for them both and everyone here by connection.

Hjordis' lips parted as if to offer some manner of sensible reply before she realised that the Lady Maarika was every so gently teasing her, but also trying to draw her out, that they might learn the other. Having built a life based upon knowledge and its place in the world, especially her own, she certainly understood the balance in using one's head as well as the heart to gauge a situation. She too, looked back to her cousin, with absolute bafflement and delight in her expression. "I too, would like to learn you as much as I may," Hjordis finally said with lips that had slowly curved upward. In the riotous colour of the garden, the Priestess was akin to a pale, moonlit figure brought to life. Around her and fueled with Craft, the air remained pleasantly cool, while she smiled and moved to sit with the Lady Maarika when asked, cerulean eyes keen upon her new lady in service but as well, heart.

A still shocked gaze moved toward Prince Haakon, and though she had half a thousand words she wished to say, none of them seemed remotely accurate for the moment. A pink hue bloomed along her cheeks and she bowed her head. "Yes, I suppose that is true. I simply cannot help wanting to know why, but I will spare you from questioning my own worth," the lady said in rather dry amusement. She couldn't help but caress Maarika's hands, a bubble of adoration rising in her chest like sunrise on a perfect day.

It seemed only correct to tell the Queen about herself. "Well, about me. Haakon and I grew up not far from each other. As he is my elder, he has always been very carefully protective over me, for which I have always been appreciative. Ritual Craft brings me great joy, I should mention. I am entirely willing to learn the people here, and their Rituals to set them at ease ... if one could ever be at ease in such a situation," she said very gently, with great compassion and a particularly pointed lack of judgement, even as in Hjordis' eyes, it was clear enough that with her calm, was also concern.

Pleased as ever to find her Queen a clearly very strong, and beautiful woman, Hjordis could barely tear her eyes away, save for studying Haakon every few moments. But more than anything, she did not want the Lady Maarika harmed, and wars, even the silent type, were expressly painful. "You may call me Jordi, or Jo, if you like, my lady, if we are not required to be stiff-necked parodies of a certain Dark Court." It was both conspiratorial, the comment, but as respectful as she could manage toward a woman like the Lady Elisif and her desire to claim everything or at least, as it appeared on the surface.

Haakon's struggle wasn't lost on his Queen. Maarika was neatly torn precisely into two, one half of her heart wanting to shut away the world in its entirety so that she could soothe the male whose soul called her, and the other half wanting not even that beloved distraction from the focus she gave the Lady Hjordis. She compromised by turning her head and meeting Haakon's eyes, feeding more of her Touch into him via Craft, and assuring him with a look that she saw him, and cherished him. But even while her Craft continued to try and soothe him, she turned her eyes back towards the Priestess and listened as the woman spoke.

A knowing little smile surfaced at the reference to Haakon being "protective", though Maarika suspected it had little at all to do with the Prince being the elder of the two. She had little doubt that all such ladies for whom Haakon cared suffered the same loving treatment, regardless of age. Maarika nodded at the notion of learning the local rituals and people, and thought that a very useful interest to have.

"These are difficult times between our court and the natives of this land," she admitted, furthering the nod a little. "Any bridge right now is a welcome one. We've a long road ahead of us before the people here will know true comfort in our presence, but any steps you take in that direction will only help."

Hjordis' final comment caused Maarika to glance towards Haakon briefly, before returning her attention to the Priestess. An Opal shield climbed the space around them, containing their conversation among the three of them alone. Maarika had no doubt that if Haakon was already shielding the space he'd let her know, and if he wasn't, he'd insist on taking over the task without much room for argument.

"I do not know how much your cousin has yet told you," the Queen said, gently. "But we must be very careful for the time-being to appear outwardly to support Vaasa at all times. Even here, even when it seems we are safe and unobserved. We have taken measures to help increase the security against trespasses here, but we have been forced to take on a substantial number of help from among the locals. It's impossible to say whether they're all just what they seem to be or not. We must give them no cause to doubt our loyalty. Say nothing here outside of a shield that you would not say while standing before Lady Brenden herself. Threads are preferred even above shields, lest you wish to give your cousin a more severe case of heartburn than he surely already suffers," she said, warmth softening her words into a gentle tease at the last. She glanced up at the Prince in question, and invited him without words to stand at her back and set his hands on her shoulders. She desired contact with him, even if she kept the bulk of her attention on Lady Hjordis.

"Hjordis is a beautiful name," she commented. "And you must call me Maarika. Protocol has its place, but the Darkness has made us sisters at the very least." Haakon's insertions about Hjordis drew a smile to the Queen's lips, though she tsked a little sadly. "Then you have sacrificed much to come here and serve," she recognized. "I don't think you'll find snow or piste anywhere in the whole of this Territory. But some of the dances and customs they have here are enchanting in their own right. You must come with us when we make our rounds next month, and see for yourself. Nharkava is not without its challenges, surely, but it has its share of charms as well."

A faint sadness wrapped around Hjordis, but it quickly there and gone. The last person to shorten her name so kindly had been her beloved mother, the woman she so often had tried to emulate the best parts of. However, the Priestess did not view the moment as a defeat, but a postponement. Perhaps she would explain sometime why the less formal did in fact, matter to her for those that were closest. Haakon, as much as Hjordis absolutely adored her cousin with an unconditional love, she would never have expected him to address her in any fashion that Protocol did not dictate. He often fretted over her father - who was their shared relative and did not, she expected, recall her mother as well as she did. While some might have been territorial over sharing the moment of a Queen's Bond, Hjordis was not at all. To her, it was sublime joy itself that one of her very few living relatives could attend and she hoped, be proud of the rare gift. After all, it was even rarer than the males that Bonded Queens to almost be unheard of. With Maarika's touch and the softly amused knowing smile, the Sapphire Priestess let out a quiet and stately laugh.

"I do not mind his protectiveness, I promise. We have always worked well together, I see it as a tender indulgence that I can allow to show Prince Haakon how very much I care about him, even if there are matters we do not agree upon. One of those is a husband and children, you should know. That is my goal, someday, but I would not wish to choose someone that would take me from you, Maarika. Haakon was assisting me in considering someone that would suit." Where his hands laid upon Maarika's shoulder, Hjordis sighed and rested one on his while keeping her fingertips of the left hand in the Queen's keeping before returning her right hand to the lady's possession. To Hjordis, it was truly perfect. She was delighted that the Queen agreed with her about the local rituals, even if being saddened by the reasons they were here, at least they could surreptitiously assist the Nharkavans. "He did explain a number of things to me, but we are shielded, my dear Lady," she said with a gentle smile and bemused pleasure at her new Queen's protectiveness. A blush suffused Hjordis' face, even.

"He always shields me. Always, Lady," Gripping Maarika's hand, she stroked it, soothed each time they touched but allowed her own shields to be visible, which were interlaced beautifully with Haakon's Red Shields. It was a layer of protective, breathable, skin-tight shields, but as well, a mutable Aural Shield that included whomever the Prince wanted within it. They had relaxed with Maarika's touches and shifted to allow the woman to touch her, Hjordis noticed.

"I would never speak of Glacian politics without being careful. I have been warned. We would not want him to worry too much and make even more unhappy faces," she said with the constantly firm, but agreeable nature, though there was a hint of answering amusement in her expression, as she understood that not everyone found Haakon's manner welcome and useful. "Moreover, I would not desire to endanger you especially when we have only just met! Your shields too, are beautiful and useful. One cannot be too careful, I realise quite keenly." Hjordis reached out her hand to allow her fingers near the Opal Aural Shield but did not touch out of respect.

Appreciation filled her expression the way Maarika managed to focus on her, but also offer tender attentions to Haakon. She hesitated at using the woman's name consistently even though her heart screamed to do so. Was there anyone else in her life that she was so informal with? The answer to the self-thoughts was surprisingly sad, but also curious. "Maarika," she murmured, leaning forward and whispering the Queen's name into her ear. "Sweet Maarika, Lovely Lady Maarika, passionate star of my life," Hjordis said softly again before settling back and squeezing her hands. Tender laughter resounded at Haakon's interjections. "I do like those things, yes, but I do not see it as a sacrifice at all. Not when my two best-loved people are here, and there is ever so much more to learn about life than snow, and piste! Making the rounds with you would be delightful. Are there any particular duties you require of me firsthand? Shall I meet the rest of your Court? Truly, I am amenable to whatever you need."

For several moments she was quiet.

"But first, may I hug you both?" She couldn't help the delicate sheen of tears in her eyes, but they were paired with an excited smile and did not last too long, Hjordis preferred a private display of most emotions if she could help it. "My only request before we might attend upon others as duty demands." This, however, was a terribly rare and special moment, and she did not want to lose the pure, precious essence of it, nor how terribly, beautifully light her heart did feel just then.

192, Spring: Orissa, the Territory Court’s Private Landing Pad and then tour of palace.
(This thread follows Bend Toward Skies Most Grey and I Spy with my Little Eye.)

There was a strange flicker in Haakon’s beloved cousins’s aura, there and gone, when he teased her. His teeth gritted; he had known better than to attempt to tease. His hand ghosted gently over her shoulder in apology. Joy overwhelmed her sadness, before he could explore it’s intricacies in her aura. He could not say why she sorrowed, but he knew Maarika to be the cure for it. It plagued him, that flash of out-of-place sorrow, his mind worrying at it with relentless tenacity. He retreated to a more determinedly implacable neutrality, only to be pulled from his retreat by his Queen’s tender entreaty.

*Of course, Maarika.* Haakon let the informal address linger between them like a caress to the soul. It was a struggle, sometimes, even now, to address her so intimately, when her affect upon him was so profound. He would never risk the address Hjordis so easily, naturally claimed. Maarika, as well as his cousin, wielded too much power of his uncertain, deadly emotions. He was cold, frozen ice over a glacial storm; one crack, and no one was safe.

*As soon as Hjordis is safe, and settled, I will come to you.* If she was not done with her duties, he would become a looming, disquieting presence until those disrupting her day departed. If it was diplomacy that was required, he would expedite it. And if mere paperwork, well ... he was skilled in that, as well.

The flare of Shields as his cousin demonstrated the interwoven, loving protection between Haakon and Hjordis seemed to Haakon the very essence of Protocol. It soothed, as comforting to Haakon as any touch or caress. The care, respect and risk each Caste entailed was painstakingly interwoven with the strength of Jewel and will that truly defined each relationship.  He studied the weave most carefully, searing for any flaw. Finding none, of course. His beloved cousin was meticulous and brilliant, both.

Almost, Haakon missed that moment of envy, of hurt his Queen revealed, when witnessing such beauty. A frown furrowed his brow, the urge to destroy that which wounded either lady threatening to coil in upon himself. This one ... he’d glimpsed it once more, just obliquely. This time he’d discover just why, and how.

His cousin’s gentle touch soothed, as it had always soothed. Haakon’s rough hand, so crass and out of place, was always rendered just right by her acceptance. The calm created by his ladies conversation was shattered by his harsh voice, as he interjected only, “I have given her dossiers on Lord Lang and Prince Raines.” They were his first choice for spouse to Hjordis, amongst his ladies Bonded. If his cousin sought the restraints and rules of marriage for herself, instead of the right of Consort, he very much desired the very best for her. To Haakon, those two had epitomized the loyalty and courage of a Blood male under dangerous circumstances. His Queen’s glance to him, upon trying to find words to define his Blood brother’s won a brief, rusty laugh. So much of his divided, profoundly driven feelings towards her Bonded were summed up in that very look.

Haakon was not easily given to public displays of affection; he did not often seek touch when in public. But before him were two ladies who could literally ask any such thing from him, at any moment. He deftly helped each to their feet (not that either needed any such aid), and allowed them a long, private embrace. Only then did he wrap his arms about the pair, kissing each one upon the top of the head in tender, reverent caress. To have obtained either of their devotion, let alone both, baffled him. Yet having been granted such regard, his greatest fear was to lose it. He might break their care to pieces, even, in his urgent need to protect, cherish and obey. He would shelter them with his heart, his mind, his soul, his Jewels and his power for as long as he had breath