Thread: A new king and his queen (Closed)

Roger watched the entourage as it entered the palace, the carriage surrounded by guards as the soldiers escorted his sister, the queen to be, back from the convent. He remembered Gwyndolyn as a small child, a sweet little girl with whom he had played occasionally before she'd been sent to the convent following her mother's death. He remembered her golden hair and large blue eyes that had always regarded him with a certain mature curiosity as they played, perhaps the young girl wondering why her brother, several years older would choose to spend time with her. He had felt bad for her when their father had sent her away, sending her to the convent for an education and also because she reminded him too much of his late wife. He'd visited her a few times in those first years that she lived with the nuns, the time he got to spend with her growing increasingly strained as the distance between them grew, the paths of their lives diverging. The last time he'd seen her was on her sixth birthday, a stiff and formal meeting between the young girl and her pre-teen brother, neither one of them having any real connection to the other. He had heard that she had grown up an educated and beautiful young woman, devoted to the church and determined to take her vows to become a nun, a plan that he had ruined when he summoned her. He had chosen her not simply because of some gentle childhood memories, of some familial desire, but for what he believed to be solid political reasons. His choice would no doubt shock some of the nobles, rumors were bound to fly as quickly as people could talk, but he had chosen her not for her rumored beauty but to bolster his own power. He needed a wife that had blood ties to their neighbors but was also of their people, he must marry a woman who was as connected to the people of their own land as she was to their allies. After many hours of careful consideration, of weighing and judging every woman of noble birth that he could think of, Roger had finally chosen his half sister as the only candidate that didn't have some black mark, some rival political affiliation that might weaken his rule. Have her taken to my mother's chambers, he instructed Jeremiah, knowing that the suite of rooms had already been cleaned and prepared for her arrival. Gwyndolyn would stay in those chambers until the ceremony crowning him king was complete, their marriage made law by his assumption of the crown. Have some maids assigned to her, let her rest for the day. I'll meet her tomorrow evening, he concluded, wondering what kind of woman his sister would turn out to be, what sort of wife he'd chosen for himself. The next evening, Roger was once more seated on the hard uncomfortable throne as he half listened to a report on the wedding plans, the details of the celebration boring him as the pompous official appointed to planning the royal wedding recounted how many flowers, how many doves, how many cakes were being prepared. He was wondering if the man would tell him how many grains of rice they had procured for the celebration when Jeremiah approached his side, leaning down to whisper in his ear. The princess Gwyndolyn is here, the old politician told the new king quietly. Very good, Roger nodded to this Chamberlain as he raised his hand, the wedding planner falling reluctantly silent as he began to talk about rice. I'm sorry to interrupt but I'll ask you all to excuse me, my future wife is here and I'm eager to meet her. Thank you for all your hard work, he added, waving his hand dismissively as he sat up, squaring his shoulders as the servants filed out, readying himself to meet his sister once more. Roger had heard the rumors floating among the palace servants of his sister's beauty but he was still shocked as the lovely young woman was led into the chamber, her golden hair pulled up and coiffed in the latest fashion, the luxurious gown highlighting her slim waist and ample cleavage as she was introduced to him. Roger waved his hand, signaling for the servant to leave them as he regarded the beautiful young woman that was his sister as she stood before him. He was just opening his mouth to greet her when she spoke, protesting against their marriage, refusing his suit in a clear challenge of his authority. Well said, Roger nodded his head, a smile crossing his face as she stood there, arms crossed in a regal attitude that defied her religious upbringing. She couldn't know this but her refusal, her challenge of his right only piqued his interest in her more. I heard you were as intelligent as you were beautiful, Roger complimented her as he leaned back, regarding his sister carefully. He could still see the small child that he remembered playing with in her face, her graceful features more mature but that same serious expression was still there as she regarded him. And while I accept your protests, your refusal means nothing. We are to be married, he assured her simply, it is my wish and therefore law. I need you as my wife, Gwyn, and so you shall be my wife. It really is that simple, he assured her. You don't have a choice, my dear. This is what your king requires of you.