Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20170105222240/@comment-25126355-20170111224831

(Thank you. Still, sorry again for disappearing.)

At some point, along the way, Ser Aldous Hassildor and his small retinue joined up with his elder siblings, before they reached the Daggerfall Host. In her tent, the Cyrodiilic Queen meticulously prepared for her meeting with the enemy prince. Not too vain of woman by nature, Jannia understood quite well that her looks gave her a certain upper-hand, especially when dealing with those of the opposite sex. Dressed to impress, in a gown of crimson satin, with black and silver brocade, the so called "Rose of Skingrad" looked every bit the beauty she was famed to be. Her hair fell freely over her shoulders and down her back, while the cut of the dress allowed for her shoulders to be seen. Apart from a simple ruby hanging at her forehead, the Queen chose not to wear jewelry.

Finished with her preparations, she took a small velvet lined box into her hands and opened it, looking with sorrow at the locks of hair she had taken from her children. She shouldn't be here. Her place was with her family. But Julien's ambitions threatened to destroy everything they had worked so hard for. And so she had no choice but to do what was best for her children and her people, regardless of any animosity it could create in her already strained marriage. The sound of footsteps approaching her tent snapped her out of her thoughts. Turning, she saw her elder brother, standing at the tent flap.

"Well... I must say, you look enchanting." He said, a teasing smile on his lips.

"Good. It tends to help negotiating, when the other party is distracted, even slightly. It all comes down to what men really want. The answer is simple, if you're a woman." She replied, standing.

"Who wouldn't be? And I must admit, a tiny part of me is quite jealous you posses such a unique negotiating tactic. You wouldn't believe how many times something like that would've come in handy during my travels."

Jannia chuckled, knowing Luthor was trying to raise her spirits. It took every ounce of strength she had to defy Julien in this way. What had happened to her? Before her marriage, she'd been described as a temperamental spitfire, with a tendency to defy any authority that would try to control her. Marital bliss and motherhood must have smoothed her edges. But those days were now over. If Evermore was to survive the fate of the other rebel Kingdoms, something had to be done.

"Ready?" Luthor asked, once again returning her from her thoughts.

"Is anyone ever ready to face their executioner? Potential in this case, but still..."

"I'll take that a yes." Her brother said, leaving the tent. She heard him order the guards to mobilize, as a messenger was sent to the camp of Prince Crendal, to inform him of the Queen's arrival.

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"Blaming a dead man? How typical. And here I thought you stood apart from the typical noble fools, often inclined to do the same. Pity." A voice said, addressing the former Crow from the shadows. A figure sat on a window sill, covered in black armor form head to toes, playing with a stiletto dagger that looked sharp enough to cut almost anything.