A Grand Affair

[Carter de Volthström]

Lord Leodon Taravin

Heir to the High Seat of House Taravin

Caemlyn, Andor

Upon the Queen’s pronouncement that the Andoran campaign to Shienar would be led by House Taravin, the Lord and Lady of the House announced a ball in celebration of the honor as means of sendoff and well wishes. More astute members of the court would recognize it as the opportunity to remind their sister houses of their power and favor with the throne.

Leodon was in his room, adjusting the stiff coat of his newly appointed rank. He was trained in the ways of an heir to command house troops, but he had never seen himself in uniform like this. It was strange to say the least and quite nerve-wracking.

A knock on the door admitted his mother. Lady Taravin arranged everything for the ball, of course. She’d done nothing but plan and tweak the smallest details for a week. An hour from now they would throw open the doors of their palatial manor and welcome the finest of Caemlyn nobility. Leodon turned to admire her. “You look lovely, mother.” He kissed her gloved hand upon greeting her. The Lady of the House wore a new, expensive ballgown. Exquisite jewels accessorized her appearance. Of course, among the many settings were the pearls and gems that gave his family their long-standing fortune.

Despite the momentous occasion, she touched his cheek and peered up into his eyes with the heaviness of pride and sadness holding hers.
“My dear, in two days you will leave Caemlyn and Light willing I will see you upon your return, but there is no knowing how long that might be.”

He pat her hand in understanding. There was great fear, whispered in corners and seen in worried glances, that not everyone leaving on this campaign would return. The Taravin heir would be well-protected, but war was always a risk, and Lady Taravin was a mother.

He kissed her on her cheek and nodded. There was nothing to say, and she would be expected. He was ready enough as it was and escorted her downstairs.

The ball was officially opened by Lady Taravin once their quota for guests had arrived. Ongoing were called names by their Master of Ceremonies at the door, and Leodon kept an ear for one in particular.  The last ball they hosted was the one where he finally charmed Nicole’s hesitation. She would be invited as one of the Queen’s ladies, but he hadn’t heard if she would be in attendance or not. He only hoped she would. Meanwhile, all the usual nobles were in attendance. The only notable difference was the attire of the officers to make the journey - each clad in the colors of their House.


((ooc: reposted under this account))

[Nesrin Aziz]

  

"Lady Eisheth" and Rosalle Winther

Winther Estate, Caemlyn

The carriage would be waiting in the oval courtyard outside. Lilis cared little for the petty concerns of Andoran nobility, of course, but she would act to protect the security of her place here, which meant overseeing House Winther’s fortune and standing to some degree. Matias did not often make messes, and this one had involved ingredients Lilis spun to ruthless advantage – schisming distrust in the city for the Black Tower itself. However given her imminent travel north she would rather shore up the loose edges before her departure. Matias was angry still, and Mishael Vanditera was a shrewd politician with a grudge soaked in blood. Silence would be easily secured with a marriage finally brokered between their Houses, which Lilis found an appalling archaism as much as an easy investment. Pathor had even been betrothed to a Vanditera before.

The Taravin’s ball would be the couple’s first outing since the announcement of the engagement, and it would draw the wellwishers; context she could put to good use. But it was ancillary to Lilis’ expenditure of time. She was a shadow at these functions usually, if she attended at all beyond keeping her face in general circulation amongst the court. It was the way the Queen preferred it anyway, given the manner of their association. Even Matias did not question Lilis’ longer absences – she ensured it. But such methods were only ever employed when she needed to use them, for Compulsion could make for the kinds of sloppy holes she preferred to avoid. For the most part, the privacy of a widow was respected with incurious good grace, and that suited Lilis fine.

Tonight her dark hair was secured in a simple chignon, decorated with only a few jewelled pins; fittingly subdued arraignment for a widow on the eve of celebration. Likewise the neutral cut and adornment of her dress fell into the neat realm of acceptability, neither the height of fashion nor remarkably plain. She adjusted a simple earring as she walked the hallway, and considered the evening ahead. Not with relish it had to be said. Or at least, it was likely to be dull. But it was also a good place to plant seeds, and the quicker such fruits could be harvested, the better. Lilis alone knew of Arikan’s unwelcomed return for now, but the moment the others caught wind of it, the war pieces would begin to move against him. She meant to survive the carnage, but she was not convinced of the Chosen’s victory. And certainly not of their shield. She intended other allies.

Her pace slowed, then. Lilis was rarely unaware, moulded by too many long years spent in the kinds of places it was unwise to lose focus. One did not master the Dream otherwise. Though this was unlikely to be a threat: the child was pressed against a decorative cabinet topped with a seasonal floral arrangement, her hands pressed tightly over her ears and eyes squeezed shut. She was all but obscured but for the ghostly puddle of her nightdress peeked out from the shadows of her hiding spot. Easy to miss, and easier to ignore.

Lilis heard her because of the sobbing.

Despite herself she paused. A nursemaid should have been watching over all the Winther children, who'd been corralled to the estate of the High Seat whilst the Taravins entertained the Shienaran send-off. The older cousins would have revelries of their own no doubt, to placate them for missing out. But this one was only small. Lilis had little enough to do with Matias’ grandchildren, or even the offspring of her own late husband; just enough to know their names, as she knew everyone who lived in or visited the household, down to the lowliest refuse servant.

“You should be abed, child,” she said sharply, just as the girl crawled to her feet and rushed with abandon to wrap herself about Lilis’ legs. She suspected any adult would have done for the succour, but she placed her hand to the child’s dark curls nonetheless. Whatever cries of protest or explanation issued forth, they were muffled within the heavy fall of skirts, and Lilis only shifted patiently to lead the child back to her room. Rosalle’s hand slipped into her own with effortless trust. She stuck close as a limpet, and irony at the source of her comfort tonight flared some amusement within. But Lilis didn’t smirk. Eisheth wouldn’t have.

She said nothing of reassurance as she helped the girl back into her bed. Rosalle seemed entirely reluctant to be abandoned within the plump pillows and blankets despite how docilely she was led. Her palms still cupped protectively over her ears as she snuggled obediently down, eyes wide, sniffling her fear.

In the shadows it could almost be any child.

Lilis perched beside her, quiet in contemplation. “Where did you hear such a tale?” she asked. Despite the girl’s genuine fear, she'd almost laughed the moment she realised what Rosalle had been talking about before. The merihem, a Blight abomination; the one legend feared to slip right into the sleeper’s ear, slick and wriggly with its poisons. Instead she pressed a palm to the girl’s head, brushed the loose hair gently free where it caught beneath the damp clutch of her small fingers. “I think it very unlikely that the Lady Misaki has smuggled one of the beasts south in her jewellery box, Rosalle. In fact, I see no monsters in this room at all.”

Lilis’ gaze caught on her own hand as she smoothed Rosalle’s hair. Several rings adorned the left, plain for the most part, including the wedding band. “But if you are afraid of the dark, child, my advice is to make a friend of it.” This time she did smile, a secret one; more Lilis than Eisheth in truth, but the child was hardly to know. None in this household were sworn to the Shadow, not even Matias himself, and all were ignorant of what they harboured at their heart. Lilis twisted the ring from her smallest finger, pulled the girl’s grip firmly away from her ear, opened that sticky palm, and closed it back over the offering. It was nothing, just a bit of silver forged into pretty patterns. Purely decorative. “A talisman, to keep you safe. You are marked now, by your favourite aunt. I am scarier than any monster, I assure you.”

---

"Lady Eisheth"

Taravin Estate, Caemlyn

Some time later, their carriage pulled up for the tiresome pomp and ceremony Andorans favoured. In the ballroom Lady Winther melted away with her youngest son and his soon to be bride, accepting the congratulations and undoubted ripples of gossip for what they were presenting as the rarest of jewels: a love match. The Vanditera girl took it all in stride; not just her proximity to Caemlyn’s courtly heart, for her House had long been on hard times, but the devilish deal made to secure her place here. It was not common knowledge of course, but Lilis doubted her to be ignorant of the truth of who exactly bore responsibility for her older brother’s murder. In other circumstances, Lilis might have taken more interest in such a character. But tonight must be about other priorities.

Her place on the campaign to Shienar did not sit easily with her, but she deemed it a necessary risk, for such close weeks of travel would make the hand of friendship a more welcome prospect to Nicole. Trepidation would not be hard to feign. A widow was a natural choice for the motley entourage sent to accompany Lady Graciela and her daughter home; easily spared, and young enough in appearance that she might possibly spark some political match whilst out there. And of course a suitable chaperone for more clandestine affairs. In any case the Queen had not been difficult to convince of the merits of releasing her so far from her usual service; truth was the south really did believe the Blight as quiet as a sleeping babe, and burn Raviel to the bloody Pit for letting the Armendariz woman loose to cry and plead so loudly for aid. Should Lilis be recognised in Fal Sion, and she didn't plan to be, it would offer some valid explanation of her presence to rectify his mistake. She was tasked to send word back after all, as she ever directed the flow of information in and out of Caemlyn. But if she was forced to it, it would reveal too much of her identity here too. This was a face she had worn many long years now. She did not want to compromise it. She did not want the Chosen to know she was in Andor at all.

After a polite amount of frivolous conversation she made her excuses from Matias’ company to circle the room. For now she drifted. Pity begat the tragedy of her story, but the nobles were unfalteringly polite, if she sometimes wondered that they thought the affliction catching. Meanwhile arrivals were still being heralded. She kept a discreet eye on Leodon, who she imagined to be waiting for the very same thing.

[[In the timeline, this is set slightly before Larnair's murder or the Tower coup]]

[Carter de Volthström]

Lord Leodon Taravin

Heir to the High Seat of House Taravin

Caemlyn, Andor

As a member of the host family, it was Leodon’s duty to participate in greeting their visitors in company of his parents. Afterward he danced with his mother to open the ball under the watchful eye of the more austere High Seat. Soon he transitioned from the dance floor and was swallowed up by his peers. A circle soon formed as gossip and platitudes were shared.

Soon, some of what they were saying reached his ears. He’d been paying little attention.

“Ignore him. He’s clearly distracted by something.”

“Something much more enticing than our boring conversation.”

“Or someone,” laughter followed.

Leodon looked over, catching their eyes with a grim smile. “You are right. I am preoccupied with the burden of my impending responsibilities.”

“Always so serious, Leodon. It’s a party, relax.”

“How can I do that when thousands of Andoran lives will soon be on the line?” The mood darkened as soon as he said it. Looks were exchanged and Leodon sighed apologetically.

"My apologies. We are celebrating.” He raised his glass, wondering when he would become accustomed to the pressure building inside. Murmurs followed in general agreement, but he did not overlook the glances shared between a few of his companions.

Which was when he caught the eye of a new arrival to their circle. Pathor Winther held himself with poise and confidence. His youthful, handsome face drew many a long look from their female companions, but despite his popularity, Leodon never got on overly well with any of the Winthers. He was civil, however.

“Speaking of celebrations, it seems Lord Pathor is due congratulations on his recent match.”

Leodon was content to let the others carry on once the new topic was introduced, and he excused himself.

[Colette Moreau]

"Nicole Candraed”

For hours, Corele busied herself with every task she could imagine in order to avoid thinking about the ball. She mended the queen’s wardrobe, she cleaned the queen’s jewels, and she threaded the queen’s hairbrushes. Yet she kept an eye to the window, and by the time the sky was black, she gave in to the feelings that pulled her to her childhood home. She changed into a gown, hurriedly styled her hair and departed for House Taravin.

When she arrived, the ball was underway. She entered unannounced and exhaled a sigh of relief to find all was well. She expected the Houses would show their support for Taravin, but she assumed there would be just as many plots to the contrary. She didn’t assume the place would be on fire, but now she was among the nobles, she was content she could keep a closer eye on what may unfold.

She was mostly ignored but for cursory nods of the head and polite moments of greeting. Nicole was first and foremost a lady from a small, country house with little to no political power of her own. However, she was favored by the queen and welcomed at such grand affairs as this one for that very reason.

She was waiting along the periphery of the party when Leodon approached. She’d seen him from afar for a while, but it would have been impractical to present herself to him so early in the night. His expression was serious, his walk targeted. The way he held himself was so noble and confident, she couldn’t help but acknowledge a swell of pride. He was a Taravin through and through, and would lead their House to even greater honors.

“Lord Leodon,” she dipped a short curtsy out of respect for appearances, but he gripped her elbow and guided her out of the ballroom.

“What are you doing? Someone will see,” she whispered, casting her view around to understand who that might be. He didn’t steer her far, luckily.

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried to death.” His eyes were piercing that made her concerned. She’d never seen him angry before.

She was calm in the face of him, her expression still.  “I had duties that I had to attend for the queen.”

His jaw tightened. Corele was once a master at talking around the three oaths, but she was atrocious at outright lying. “Were you with someone else?” He looked at her gown and hair as though he noticed how quickly she had donned the attire. Corele felt her lips part in surprise. More, she was strangely offended by the accusation. Then again, the ruse under which Leodon first pursued her was because he believed her to be another man’s mistress.

She chanced a touch on his arm to sooth him.  “Of course not. I love you more than you can possibly ever know.” Her smile was filled with honesty.

He seemed to accept that and some of the tension flushed his body.  “You should get back, my lord.”

He left her with promises to dance at least once before the night was through, to which she readily agreed but only on the understanding that he would have danced with three other ladies before taking their turn.

Nicole felt strangely empty when he left her company as if the only candle lighting the room had been snuffed out. It made her think of saidar, and all she had lost until someone caught her eye and she was pulled back into the threads of the Great Game.

“Lady Eisheth,” she greeted the widow as she approached. In the classes on display this night, the highest nobles wielding power and authority were surrounded by those seeking their favor or fortune. The lesser nobles filled the gaps between them. Then there were those on the edges of the rest. Nobles, but overlooked for various reasons. Nicole and Eisheth shared that categorization in common.

“You look lovely tonight. I hear congratulations are in order on behalf of your nephew. It's a good match.” She spoke that second sentence with an upturned air at the end as though it was uncertain whether she was making a statement or asking a question. Regardless, she glanced across the sea of nobility as though Pathor or Oshara may appear then and there. Both were occupied far from their company, though.

[Nesrin Aziz]

"Lady Eisheth"

Tucked in the periphery, Lilis’s discreet gaze saw everything without seeming to pay too much attention. The best way to weave a web of lies was to not stray too far from the truth, and her mask as Eisheth was a comfortable one to maintain. She had always been the sort of woman that eyes slid over unacknowledged.

As far as parties went it was sedate and gracious, rife with the usual politics and the usual games. Lilis listened and stored away the things she needed to know for her role here, but little of it truly interested her. In some ways life changed barely at all even between the rolling of the Ages, only its set dressing. But there was a sombre thread beneath the celebrations too, probably exemplified by the little eddies Leodon left in his wake. This was not the north, where life and death were both honoured fiercely and in vivacious colour. Andoran men were softer creatures. If they dressed it all up in pomp and ceremony and patronage, they were still afraid.

Notably tonight, amidst all the highly lauded guests there were no Sisters present – unusual indeed for Tar Valon’s greatest political ally and the city of its Aes Sedai queen. The Sisters who usually resided within the palace had been called back to the White Tower, including the Green who oversaw the Royal Library and the Blue who formally advised the Queen. There was no overt sense of urgency in the shift, and none even remarked upon the absence, yet Lilis did not think it could be coincidence. She knew Ellomai had counselled sending the contingent, while Kamion had been more reserved, keeping in line with the Tower’s careless dismissal of the Lady Armendariz. But neither would be going north. In fact no Sister would be joining them at all, it seemed. It suited Lilis well enough.

But absence was not the only unusual thing in circulation around the ballroom. Lilis was not surprised to see the Asha’man in their midst, though by the raised hands and whispers many were; he had been in Caemlyn only a few days after a great leave of absence, and the family who hosted him had been closed-lipped about their guest. Once, Auden Thayn had been the very face of Black Tower charm and civility across nations. It seemed he’d been dusted off and sent to make reparations for the waves created by his brother-in-arms. She glanced discreetly to where Winther entertained his own little court, but while she did not think he could be unaware, he neither gave it his attention.

She smiled in genuine welcome when Nicole finally approached. Leodon had taken a risk pulling her aside like that, but the rumours already fermented viciously, so if it might add some spice to the evening’s gossip, the damage itself was already irreparably done. It was why the woman was being sent away.

"Thank you." Lilis took no apparent offence at the tone, and followed the line of Nicole’s gaze to the young couple in question. Vanditera once levied serious charges against House Winther after the loss of its heir. The accusations were quickly dropped, and it was years past now, but she presumed Nicole was more than aware of the scandal. Even without it, Pathor would be marrying beneath his station. Yet he was Matias’s youngest, and it afforded him freedoms barred from firstborns – who might be permitted to sew their wild oats away from the life of the court, but would not be permitted to marry them. She imagined Nicole might find sympathy for the plight of love across such a divide. Indeed, both Pathor and Oshara seemed very much in fascination with each other.

“It takes me back,” she said. There was a wistful cast to her tone that was not feigned, and though her voice was low – necessarily so given the discretion she shared – she did not try to hide the brief stirring of emotion from her companion. Lies and truth went hand in hand, one indistinguishable from the other at times, and it was such a blending that made Lilis so skilled at what she did. Garovin had been a good husband for many reasons. But it wasn't what she was thinking of. Her smile softened, but it was a warmth without resentment for her own losses. Nor, by the way she looked at Nicole then, for the precipice of another on a similar epiphany. Albeit one without the same happy ending in its future.

"How do you feel about the journey? I will admit to some nerves, myself."