Chapter 2: The Eighth Prince

Previously: A Tale of Two Courts

 

Palace of the Emperor

Imperial City, Cyrodiil 

Selara Vantinius was probably one of the most beautiful women at court. She had long black hair, fair skin touched with olive, and an impeccable taste in fashion. And she was of House Vantinius, a name so ancient in Cyrodiil it was almost mythic.

 

Prince Cassian had known Selara his whole life. They had played together as children, and studied together all through their youth. She was his best friend, his confidante, his lover, and now his former betrothed.

For today was a day he'd hoped for, prayed for, flat-out begged the gods for year after year. From the moment Cassian understood what it meant to be the eighth prince, all he wanted was to marry a queen.

 

And now, in a few weeks' time, his wish would come true. In a few weeks' time, even his elder brothers would bow their heads to him and call him "Majesty."

 

So on the one hand, Selara's wrath was justified. On the other hand, Cassian didn't really care.

 

"Why are you so calm about this?" she demanded shrilly, following him down the hallway and into his bedchamber. "They are breaking us up, Cassian. Your mother is breaking us up!"

 

"My father issued the command," he impatiently corrected her, closing the door behind them so they could argue in private. Their accents were both considered posh, having studied under the same Altmeri tutors. "It's not like I can disobey, Selara."

 

"Your father commanded you to drop everything, travel to the coldest, war-torn part of Tamriel, and your mother offered no objection?" Selara fumed. "I always knew she hated me; I just never knew how much."

 

Cassian was losing his patience. "She too has to obey my father," he replied. "You really think I want to live in a land where it snow year-round?"

 

"I think you want to marry a queen," she spat, eyes like daggers, even as they began to tear up. "Look me in the eye and tell me this isn't your deepest desire come to life."

 

Of course, he couldn't. Selara might have had an old name, but that was all she had. House Vantinius hadn't been prominent in centuries. Their lands were now reduced to a handful of small cottages and farms, and their wealth had long evaporated. The only reason Selara was even at court was due to Cassian's own affection; she wasn't popular and she wielded no power. She came with no dowry; her lifestyle was completely funded by the royal family.

"You can still come with me," he said quietly, even though he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about the notion. "I will be King--"

 

"Consort," she scoffed. "You'll be King Consort, Cassian. You will have no authority in Elisif's court. Your only duty will be to help her spawn royal babies--nothing more!"

 

The last of Cassian's patience snapped. "I will be King," he repeated, eyes dark, his voice like iron. "My heirs will be the beginning of a dynasty. My descendants will rule for a thousand years."

 

"Then by all means," Selara sneered, "go to Skyrim, where all the nobles already hate you. Where they will undermine you at every turn, and encourage Elisif to take lovers and populate your new little family with bastards." At his shocked expression, she snorted, "The son of an Emperor and you still don't know how politics work."

 

She whirled on her heels and headed for the door. She had just grasped the handle when Cassian suddenly asked, "Where will you go?"

 

There was panic in his voice now, as reality began to settle in. He would be a stranger in a strange land, with guards and servants, but no real friends.

 

Selara turned and chortled at him. "I will go home. I can join a temple even." She shrugged. "What the fuck does it matter to you?"

 

She left before he could protest further, closing the door behind her. Cassian stood alone in his bedchamber. The silence was deafening, the solitude chilling, and he fleetingly wondered if this was a preview of his future in Skyrim.

 

***

 

"You need to stay the fuck away from Elisif."

Falk Firebeard didn't know when or how a lady-in-waiting had become so powerful at the Blue Palace, but powerful she was. 

 

Only Viktoriyah could demand an impromptu meeting with the royal steward--and summon a court favorite to chastise him like a servant.

 

Arnsteinn was no noble, but he was fairly close. He hailed from one of the richer families in Ivarstead (which didn't mean much), and he was an excellent swordsman. His blond Nord looks didn't hurt either. All in all, he was very popular at the Blue Palace.

 

"Who the fuck are you?" Arnsteinn demanded, refusing to back down. Falk sighed; he had seen similar exchanges over the past several months and they always ended the same way.

 

"The only person who seems to give a fuck about not offending the Emperor," Viktoriyah snapped. "Our Queen is due to be married--how dare you attempt to insert yourself between her and her betrothed."

 

"If my Queen commands my presence, I will obey," he replied smugly.

 

"What exactly is this about?" Falk yawned. "I have a busy day ahead of me."

 

"Arnsteinn and the Queen meet before dawn to go riding, Falk," she bit out. "The ladies are gossiping about it, which means soon the whole court will be gossiping about it. And when the Imperial envoy relays this news to the Emperor--"

 

"Arnsteinn is this true?" Falk's tone was delicate, but he was awake now, his whole body tense.

 

The Nord warrior answered without looking away from Viktoriyah. "It is perfectly innocent, steward."

 

"Then she won't miss you if you leave," Viktoriyah snorted.

 

"Leave?" he chortled.

 

"Leave court," she said helpfully. "You will leave court, Arnsteinn, immediately. You will return to your family in Ivarstead, and you will not set foot in Solitude until after the Queen is married and with child--do you understand?"

 

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded again, furious.

 

"Lady Viktoriyah is right," Falk said sternly, slowly rising from behind his desk. "Things are fragile in the Empire. The marriage contracts have been signed; Prince Cassian is already bound for Skyrim. Nothing can distract the Queen from getting married...or give her false hope of escape."

 

Arnsteinn briefly glanced at the steward before looking back at Viktoriyah. "She cares for me," he said lowly.

 

Viktoriyah shook her head. "No, she doesn't."

 

"Our love is real!" Arnsteinn protested.

 

"No, it isn't," she countered through gritted teeth. "If you pledged yourselves to each other, you didn't. If you have love letters hidden away, you don't. This thing between you two never happened, and you were never here. Go home, Arnsteinn. Right now."

 

She was going to be very busy the next few days, altering memories and destroying evidence. At least it would give her something worthwhile to do.

 

Falk watched the Nord warrior skulk away in awe. "One of these days, Lady Viktoriyah," he murmured, "you'll have to show me how you do that."

 

***

 

Queen Elisif, of course, was less than thrilled with the news of Arnsteinn's departure. And she was going to require a little more work than a simple memory alteration.

"What gives you the right to send Lord Arnsteinn away?" she asked. She wasn't angry, but she was desolate. And that was the problem with Elisif. Her grief over her dead husband and the subsequent civil war was taking its toll.

 

"My Queen," Viktoriyah began patiently, despite her own exhaustion, "Arnsteinn, Falk, and I all agreed it was best. And he was no lord, Your Majesty."

 

"And you are no more than an attendant," the Queen reiterated, angry now. "How dare you, Viktoriyah. I lost a husband and nearly lost my country--I am entitled to this one small comfort. Who are you to tell me I can't have it?"

 

Viktoriyah stared at her for a moment, incredulous. But then she remembered who she was dealing with.

 

"Your Majesty," the vampire began slowly, deliberately, "you have plenty of comfort. Yes, you lost a husband, but you were living in a palace when your country was at war. There are more orphans in Skyrim than ever; they are starving, and freezing, and have no comforts."

 

The Queen stared at her, pale, eyes brimming with tears.

 

"I left my country for you," Viktoriyah reminded her. "We all did. We left our homes, our families, and some of us don't even have families left. Gwynara and Carolanna lost their parents in the war; all of Yrsa's siblings died fighting to avenge your husband. I left the only man I have ever loved to serve you, and have no idea if we can ever be together in this life. Do you ever even wonder what our lives are like, my Queen?

 

"We have to get up every day at dawn to perfume your bathwater, tend your hearth, and stitch your gowns. We make sure your tortes, salmon, and pheasant breasts are always cooked to perfection--we are your comfort, Majesty. We spend all our waking hours ensuring that you are comfortable. And we must do so smiling, uncomplaining, because we more than understand just how much worse it could be. And while you get to marry the very handsome son of the richest, most powerful man in Tamriel, we never will."

 

Elisif was staring at her now, mute as tears ran down her cheeks.

 

"No one is denying your burdens, Majesty," Viktoriyah assured her. "All we ask is that you do not deny ours."

 

The Queen was hoarse when she finally spoke. "When does Cassian arrive?"

 

"In a few days' time."

 

Elisif hesitated before asking, "And when can I see Arnsteinn again?"

 

"Majesty." Viktoriyah knelt before her, gently touching her hands. "When you are married and carrying Cassian's child, you can see whoever you want."

 

Next: One of Those