Drysllthen and Mereavus Get R33L

Mereavus remembered. Everywhere had memories. Even here, where the air was fresh, and time had clearly passed. She could see the fields that led to Vorserkeine. She could see the paving stones she'd fantasised about dashing herself on. She could recall the laughter of drinking with bizarre people. She could practically smell the rain from that dismal evening when Samuel had found her preparing to throw herself, feel the drips from curls tapping against her shoulder. She remembered Ulrika, and the sadness, and the abandon afterwards. She resolutely refused to look at the tower. So, instead, she was sat with her back to the view, with a tumbler practically entirely filled with brandy between her hands. She'd not had the breakdown Garnett had. But she'd been distracting herself. Now... Well. Now she was beginning to flood with all of this history, and she wasn't so sure that being here was such a wonderful idea. Her angular features were entirely distant; dark eyes fixed on nothing, looking remarkably, expressively melancholy for a change, and her lips were set into a thin, pensive line. Back straight, posture perfect. How little everything really changed.


Drysllthen's break from the necessary duties to see his mother had not been so fine a relief as he had hoped. Certainly, she'd hugged him and kissed his cheek and told him how very proud she was, but the desperation in the way she clutched him and the red rims upon her eyes still haunted him. Guilt, it seemed, was all he could feel for doing what she built him up for, as if he'd stolen something from her. Worry for her abounded, and there was no way he could sit and answer the endless questions about the rebuilding or write sedate letters. His heavy boots pounded up the stairs, the King taking them two at a time as if the exercise could release the pall that had settled over him, Garnett still refusing to leave her quarters. A faint smile touched his lips when he caught sight of Lady Alexston, but it faded quickly when he caught sight of her face.>>
Drysllthen barely supressed a faint sigh. Of course, memories for her too. In the agonizing march to reach this point, it had never occurred to him how they might find being in Valwyn. Smoothing his worry from his face, he straightened and strolled closer. "Ahh, I was told you had arrived, m'lady. I'm glad to see it's true, but.." His blue eyes crept over her face. "I'm afraid I'm disturbing rather pensive thoughts."


Mereavus seemed oddly slow to react. There was a voice, somewhere, on the edge of her remembering. One she knew, but couldn't place for a second or two. She'd regressed so far that it felt like some peculiar memory from the future, which proved disorienting. Drysllthen. The future was now. In the instant she recognised it, the melancholy touch to those eyes was gone, and replaced with the usual flinty, neutral cool. "Disturb away," she answered, in a remarkably hollow version of her usual low, exuberant tones. Get back on form, Eave. And there it came; the easy, effortless smile, and a rise from her perch to go over to him. She extended one arm in the gesture that apparently expected a kissed cheek. "It's good to see you." Genuine? Sounded so. She was quite fond of him, after all, so why wouldn't it be? He wasn't a ghost. It was good to see anyone who wasn't a husk of memories.


Drysllthen let his smile warm slightly when she seemed to find herself again, and he obediently bent to press a light affectionate kiss to her cheek, his gloved hand resting briefly against her waist. "And you as well, m'lady. I trust the journey was enjoyable?" Something in the wryness of his tone hinted that he had heard of the exploits that left his Chancellor behind in the mud. For an instant, he thought to make his apologies for dredging up such memories, but the foolishness of apologizing for winning the throne immediately stilled his tongue on the matter. "If there is anything you need to make yourself more comfortable here, just say the word. I'm afraid everyone is rather focused on necessity than comfort at the moment, so certain things may be overlooked." Slipping from her, he rolled his shoulders as he strolled to the edge, eyes dancing over the light glinting off the trees.


Mereavus returned to her seat once the greetings were done with, picking up her tumbler for a long sip of the stuff. "I'm quite comfortable, thank you," she answered. "Very little in my old chambers appears to have changed over the years. The journey was..." She paused, looking briefly amused. "Quite exhilarating for myself and the ladies, though I would wager your officials are rather put out by the entire affair." She crossed one leg over the other, instantly regretting it thanks to a twinge in her spine, but refusing to move because of it. "I heard Roselyn is, in fact, alive," she commented shortly afterwards. Much unlike her Sarmagh guard, unfortunately for him. She was none too pleased with either of her eldest children presently, and couldn't decide which of them was more insufferable. Had she been this bad when she was Gremlin?


Drysllthen turned away from his survey of the kingdom to offer her more of his attention, his hands clasped behind his back as he leaned on the low wall. "I'm glad to hear it," he remarked. A chuckle rose as he thought of the poor tutor's absolute fury over the whole affair, not that he'd dared vent it on the King, of course, but Drysllthen had heard. However, his amusement snapped from his face at the mention of Roselyn. "She is, and lucky at that. I'm half-tempted to lock her up for such foolishness." His lips twisted irritably. For all that he'd been gentle with her, such behavior did not please him in the least. "I take it she left you no word?" His brow quirked as his jaw set, the depthis of this ridiculous behavior beginning to set in. "I wrote as soon as she arrived, but I'm certain worry had already set in."


Mereavus answered perfectly casually after a sip of her brandy. "I had her guard beheaded. You might say I was worrying." 'Raging' was likely a far more appropriate word. "Your mother was very prompt in ensuring no more heads rolled." She didn't tend to concern herself with feeling guilt over that sort of punishment - she was Lady of that house, and whether Roselyn was Queen or not, she'd damn well behave like one or face mother's repercussions. That guard had been intended to do his job properly. All sorts of hideous things might well have happened. Her temper was faster to rise these days, and tended to have simplistic, brutal effects on the subject of her furore. She hadn't brought Roselyn up to make such rash decisions because she missed a boy, husband or no husband.


Drysllthen simply nodded at the revelation, rather surprised that it hadn't ended in a whole flock of beheaded guards. They hadn't done their job, and therefore, were quite useless. "Well, I'm glad Mother let you know. I really had not thought Roselyn prone to such rashness." His head shook slightly at the thought, relieved that his mother-in-law was not about to chide him with being annoyed. "She said she has been feeling out of sorts, although it's really inexcusable in my mind, riding so far unescorted especially during wartime and without leaving so much as a word." He too was well aware of the things that might have happened, and Roselyn's easy dismissal of his worry grated. "Do you know of any particular reason she's feeling unwell? Or is it as she tells me, simply stress and upset?" Doubt coloured his voice. Roselyn was not prone to such things, or at least had not been in the time he knew her.


Mereavus looked amused for a moment - yes, Drysllthen was male, and not quite so prone to recognising these things. "I have my suspicions that she's pregnant," she answered, taking another sip of brandy. "I've been there enough times to know the signs when I see them. You'd do well to send her to a physician to discern whether I'm right or not." Which she was, she was sure. Mereavus was never wrong. She knew Roselyn wasn't that fragile. Not even a flowering love would set her to being ill, but a flowering child would set any woman to it. Mother knew best. The eternal mantra of the Alexston family. A pity Emersyn wasn't still knocking around, a trinity of matriarchs in Valys might well put some solidity into this pre-pubescent boy run court.


Drysllthen's brow arched nearly into his hair at her rather casual remark, a slow knowing smile spreading over his face. He had wondered when she mentioned that Mother had given her that particular mint tea, but it seemed Roselyn either wasn't saying or didn't suspect yet. "That could explain it.." He mused, unable to keep that smile from creeping up on his lips again. Nearly two years and she hadn't conceived..as fine a wife as she was, if she didn't it would be problematic soon. "I was intending to have one of the healers check her soon regardless, but giving them a bit of direction would help. I wonder that she said nothing to me about it..." Another chuckle rose, and he let his head loll back against one of the small towers. "I hope you're right, m'lady, I certainly do."


Mereavus nodded. "As do I," she answered. "She may believe it's stress, the female body reacts in some peculiar ways to it. But I'd put my money on pregnancy." She paused for a while and lifted the brandy yet again. Being tippled seemed the best way to get through Valys. It always had been the most reliable coping mechanism. "Has your mother left her rooms yet?" she asked with a mildly concerned tone and a look in his direction. It wasn't easy for any of them to be back here, but at least Mereavus had her husband still. She'd lost others but at least some remnant endured that wasn't simply children who reflected the face of loss repeatedly. Garnett's state of mind was bound to be less secure than her own, purely because as Mereavus saw it, her task as mother, as Uhtred's boon to legacy, was now done.


Drysllthen nodded, tucking away a determination to send a healer to her as soon as possible. Perhaps she wouldn't take to Caoilfhionn, but he'd be damned if he'd leave his wife and possible child to anyone of lesser skill. Pleasant thoughts on his (hopefully) son were swept away at the mention of his mother, and finally that sigh did deflate him, a rare glint of worry in his eyes. "No, nor do I suspect she intends to for a time. I.." He scrubbed a hand through his wild hair. "I should have realized how being here would effect her." Caoilfhionn's words on how bringing him to this point was what had given her strength to go on would not stop playing in his head since he'd seen her, but speaking them was too vulnerable, too bare for himself and for Mother. "I worry for her," he finally admitted quietly, once more staring out over the landscape as he dropped to lean on his elbows.

Mereavus lifted a hand to push her own hair back, one of those age-old gestures that time hadn't erased. Much like it had back in the day, however, it stubbornly fell back into place. "You weren't to know," she answered, in a surprisingly soothing sort of tone. "Your whole life has been about this crown. I'm sure she's very fulfilled that you finally have it, that your father's legacy is secured. It's just...." She looked around some. "The thing with this place is that it's a hotbed of memories. And they're not all horrible memories. If they were, we'd not feel so sad. It's the good ones that hurt the most - the things we had and laughed for, the things we lived for that we lost, the time we spent keeping ourselves together for things that turned to dust. We have all recovered elsewhere. We've had our anaesthesia in being away. And now we're here, where it all happened, we begin to unravel. This place is Uhtred for her, the same as it's Danele for me. The best thing you can do for her now is find something to distract her. Don't make her attend public things she doesn't have a dire need of attending. She needs to react the way she personally needs to react." She held up the brandy glass. "The same as I do. Valys took pieces out of us that are now on the walls watching us everywhere we go. You weren't to know. None of us could predict how it would feel to be here again, let alone the people who have only just got here."


Drysllthen listened with a certain tightness in his shoulders, struggling between knowing this is what she had needed from him and knowing that attaining it brought an end to her purpose. Whatever coldness lurked beneath the genial exterior, there were a few people that he cared for and she was one of them. He listened in utter silence, the breeze tugging at his hair. He felt so terribly young, something he was unused to..always faced with the necessity of maturing quickly. "I suppose you're right," he finally murmured. "I couldn't know the memories and even if I did they'd just be shades of what she knows." He tapped his fingers along the railing, thoughts chaotic. "Other than the coronation and Maeryn's wedding, I'll not encourage her out, and I know she'll not miss those." Rather suddenly he turned to face her, mention of his father slamming home the realization that she had actually seen them together. "What were they like with one another? Obviously she loved him..."


Mereavus nodded slowly to the answer. "They were such opposite ends of the spectrum," she answered. "They complimented one another nicely. He was this giant brute of a man and yet at times he seemed so totally disassembled by her. They had their own ways of loving one another, I think, with no less intensity on either end. They say he went into war with her name on his lips. You know there are those couples you meet who you know they're together, but you know they function entirely as separate individuals whose lives merge at the edges. They weren't like that. They were very much for one another. Them against the world, I suppose. As it should be. It's... a terrible shame, what happened. What happens when one whole thing becomes a half?" She stopped herself there, and looked into her brandy. "It's soul breaking when you lose your life without dying." Uhtred for Garnett, Danele for Mereavus. Time didn't heal that kind of obliteration.


Drysllthen could see it as she described it, knowing his father had been even larger than him, imagining what his mother must have been like younger. It was strangely satisfying to know she had that effect on the man he heard mostly of in warrior's stories. "I know what you mean.." He heard himself remark quietly. The women he'd done well with all had their own lives, but Gerlinde had wanted what she described, tried to force it. "I thought it must have been like that for them. I've seen her when she thinks no one is watching.." His lips struggled with what seemed to be a bit of emotion. "I wish I could have seen them." It was almost impossible to steel against the shudders that coursed over his spine as she spoke so bluntly of the agony. "And even a son gaining a lost throne can't heal that, can it?" He breathed, realizing some of the drive to take it had been to sweep that pain from her eyes.


Mereavus shook her head a little. "No," she answered. "But it does make the obliteration worth it, I know that much. Often, I think of the end of Valys as we knew it, how different it might have been. The end of it, the end of your mother and Uhtred, the end of me and Danele, and it's like dragging a body over your shoulder all your life - a body you can't shake, or bring back to life. But there comes this point," and she had to smile, albeit almost sadly. "Where something happens, in our case when our children take back something ruined, that gives you hope. Our sorrows and our endeavours might just have been worth it. It might just get better. It might just be that through our pains, it can all be made better, and the ruin might just be washed away. And I wish that I could express to you what it's like to know that, to find some glimmer of resolution to despair, it's possibly the most painful elation possible. Despite it all, in the face of being destroyed and having it all ripped away, we have done something right. We have made it, we have survived, we have changed the course of history. We are made absolute by you. And that's the only humanly possible thing you can do for us, for your mother. In doing this you have made it worth it. And that's more than we ever dared hope for. It's all we ever wanted."


Drysllthen's shoulders sagged beneath that single word, his head hanging as he listened to every syllable from her, to the breaths between them. He knew the weight from the other side, the one they had to have accomplish something, and it was strange to hear what lay behind those accomplished facades, to hear why they needed this. The exact relationship between the former Queen and her Advisor was unclear to him, but it scarcely mattered. When a loss shattered someone, it shattered them, and he was not about to pry. "I'm glad I can at least provide that." He finally found his voice, the weight of what had rested on his shoulders seeming clearer...why he'd had to do this. "It sounds so foolish, but it doesn't seem anywhere near enough. Not for you or Mother to have faced what you did." He dared a glance toward her, blue eyes sweeping her face, something apologetic in his expression. "But thank you. It's difficult not to think I should somehow do more."


Mereavus and Danele, as far as the former Advisor saw it, had been deeper than something so passing as romantic love, and that was precisely why it might seem there was something more to it. "We do what we can," she answered, eyes shifting to him. "We can each only ever do what we can. Perhaps some of the things we've done, myself in particular, weren't the good thing to do at the time. But it's unrealistic to believe that good things only come from good actions. You have in your hands the brightest opportunity anyone in Nharati has had for generations. What it's made of isn't important, it's what you decide to do with it now. You will do more, if you do this right. We might not be here to see it, but you will. You have the chance to, if you remember us, if you honour this one opportunity. You are only just beginning. We are the end of the beginning." She lifted one hand, and quite boldly moved to take Drysllthen's oddly tightly into it. "This isn't your ending. There will be more."

Drysllthen's large hand clenched tightly around hers, his head nodding in remarkably humble fashion for the normally confident young man. "I won't forget, of that you may be sure. I know some of the threads that brought me to this place, and I know there are those I may never know." His thumb rolled absently along the back of her hand, the weight of the past on his shoulders, the worry that he would squander the position he'd gained, creeping over him, but he lifted his head to hold her dark eyes. "No, it's not my end, I know that, and I suppose there will be more I must do. It wasn't taking a castle that Mother put so much into preparing me for." A faint smile touched his lips, knowing the education had been for ruling, not conquering.


Mereavus smiled a little herself, brandy forgotten for the time being. "No," she answered. "When you're old-" and haggard, you will remember our younger years. "You'll be able to sit on rooftops spewing out advice like some sort of ancient fountain of anti-youth. We'll be around a while yet, buzzing in your earhole about how it was in our day and telling you all sorts of things about how it should be done. But I believe you'll get it right. You'll make mistakes, but I think you'll learn from them. You'll go grey in five years and perhaps somewhere along the line pieces of your own soul will get taken out of you, but you're ready for this." The smile widened some. "Sarmagh would never have supported you if you weren't." She paused, and promptly grinned. "A child by Roselyn, however, is entirely another matter."