Bearer of Ill Tidings

[Lady Marisa de Vere]

Confirmation received from Shalefort, Marisa took it upon herself to seek out Rupert to inform him of the grave news. Her expression was suitably sorrowful, her eyes subdued as she glided through the halls, uncertain of his location within the castle. The King had him busier than usual, she knew, with the negotiations over the alliance with Sarkozsy, the arrival of the Ixo delegation and so on. Presuming that the Master of Intelligence was either to be located in the Council chamber or in his office, she directed her steps accordingly.

The missive was in hand, the better to offer validation of the ill tidings received from the north. Blue eyes swept the area, seeking some sign of Rupert. Skirts swirled elegantly about her feet, a shimmery blue to match the pendant nestled enticingly above the upper curves of her breasts. Seeing no guards on duty by the council chamber, Marisa altered her path to approach the office that housed Rupert's official operation. The unofficial was nowhere so easily found, of course, and it was far more extensive.

Reaching the door, she knocked lightly to request permission to enter, keeping her face lowered to better hide the gleam in her eyes. It would not do to betray herself in any way where this matter was concerned, even if she was privately and secretly overjoyed. The bitch was finally dead, and Rupert was free to find his happiness. That left the matter of his eldest son, but there was time enough to deal with that. Elise had been the larger obstacle. Waiting quietly, she drew in a breath, considering how to deliver her pronouncement.


Lord Rupert de Vere

[Lord Rupert de Vere]

The two of them had been busy as of late. Daven St. Claire, he knew was, was keenly interested in marrying his niece. In fact, the man had just arrived at his office a few days earlier to announce his intention of asking for Marisa's hand. It was not a request. He did not seek Rupert's arrival. Rupert was merely informed of what was going to happen and that was the end of the discussion. In truth, the Master of Intelligence was frankly amused at the Dragon lord's forward manner. Rupert offered no real objections because he did not have any. That still left the matter of receiving Carissa de Vere's approval, however.

At the moment, Rupert was reading over coded reports from his eyes throughout Triadon and the kingdom itself. He had been trying to get more active networks in the lands beyond the kingdom, and he had mixed results. The delegation from Ixo provided an opportunity to turn a member of their entourage. However, Rupert needed to use caution in dealing with them. He had a feeling they were too ... honorable.

Upon hearing the knock, he glanced up from his desk, "Enter."

[Lady Marisa de Vere]

The door swung open at that single word, revealing the pale and solemn form of his niece, who crossed the threshold in silence. Closing the portal in her wake, Marisa curtsied to her uncle and guardian, then approached the desk. The letter was offered to him mutely, her eyes calm and dry as they rested on his face. She wanted to see his reaction to the news, and what conclusions he immediately drew; Rupert was a frighteningly intelligent man, the only one to whom she was as transparent as glass. Not even Princess Fiona could see through her so well.

There was other news to impart to him, but they would get to that. The matter of Elise's death was of far greater importance and impact as far as Marisa was concerned.

[Lord Rupert de Vere]

When the door opened, Rupert flicked his gaze toward it and then held it when it realized that it was Marisa. At first, a smile started to form but it was arrested when he saw the look on her face. She seemed solemn. Something was clearly the matter. Rupert became more focused on that than the glittering gem that rested below her throat. That would more than likely be addressed later. Taking the letter, he flipped it open and read it in a flash. It was allowed to drop onto the desk.

Elise was dead? Dead by her own hand? Rupert had no idea that she was in such a state that she would take her own li- the gears in his mind shifted once again. No. She was not depressed and despondent. In fact, she was hanging onto him to spite him, he was sure of it. The only way he would have been rid of her was death. Marisa knew this. Did Marisa...?

Slowly, Rupert looked up at her and studied her eyes intently. It was her. She arranged it. He knew it in his heart. And what did Rupert say? Did he yell at her? Have her arrested? Thrown out of the castle in shame?

"Thank you."

[Lady Marisa de Vere]

Of course she arranged it. Knowing the sheer amount of venom the bitch contained in her heart for Rupert, especially after her precious baby boy - the flaming idiot - was disowned, Marisa could not allow herself to remain neutral and uninvolved. Elise Carlisle de Vere had done everything within her power to render Rupert's life a living hell, redoubling her efforts after Rupert II lost what few wits he had by insulting Lisette de Lac. As far as Marisa was concerned, it was a pity the girl hadn't killed him. Not even Carissa could excuse Rupert the Younger's innumerable humiliations of the family name.

Meeting his eyes, she dipped her head in a nod to him, though she waited for the inevitable questions and demands for explanations to come. What she'd chosen to do was nothing he typically approved of or sought; dead people were useless to him, yet Marisa felt no shame for the action taken. The gold was money well spent, and given the opportunity to replay the scene, she would do it again. If he wanted her life in recompense, then he could have it. That was how deep her loyalty to Rupert went, even at the cost of all of her own ambitions.

Patience was her virtue at the moment, prepared for nearly anything now.

[Lord Rupert de Vere]

Rupert moved to a stand, briefly, to press a kiss upon her. A kiss of thanks and affection. As of late, Rupert felt as though only Marisa truly understood him or what he wished to achieve for his part of the family. His wife and children had made that immeasurably difficult. What had happened? Why did it turn out this way? He had no idea. All he wanted was a chance to start over, but he wasn't certain he would even get that. The only comfort he could take was that Marisa had turned out exactly as he had hoped. In that way, his legacy was secure.

"An assassin or a servant?" The door was closed, and no one was foolish enough to spy on the Master of Intelligence. Rupert wanted a chance to admire his niece's plans and their execution. He was better on the latter, since it would be less expensive and just as efficient. Bringing an assassin in on the plan had the danger of becoming unnecessarily messy.

[Lady Marisa de Vere]

Relaxing noticeably with the kiss, she finally smiled at him and slipped her arms about his waist to enjoy a brief embrace. Her cheek rested on his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart for just a moment before she answered. "Both, actually. The lady's maid has some skills I found... useful, and an addiction to poppy-flower perfume. It was simple enough to win her over to my service; I keep her supplied, she kept me informed and understood that some day, I would call in her debt to me."

Lifting her head, she swept a gaze over his face. "I had to wait until now. There could be no suspicion on either of us, else the plan would not work. I am sorry, I was not able to get the other but I lost track of him. Give me time, though."

[Lord Rupert de Vere]

Even the mere mention of the pronoun associated with his son made his gaze darken, but it was not enough for him to end the embrace. If anything, it made Rupert value Marisa all the more. "If he's smart, and he isn't," the voice was clearly laced with poison, "he'll leave this country and never think to come back." Then again, if he were still alive, he could still severely damage the de Vere name. It was a quandary, to be certain. Rupert should have killed him when he had the chance, but it would have looked suspicious otherwise.

"Clever use of her, though," he gave a nod of approval. It was likely that his daughters would not understand, but no matter. "I was getting worried, too. She might have come to Triadon and attempt to discredit me. I don't know when she was planning on doing so. Probably after she found him." Rupert refused to call his son by name; he had already been enough of a blight upon it.

[Lady Marisa de Vere]

The subject of his oldest son (spawn was more like it) was a tender one, she knew, but until he lay cold in his grave beside his shrew of a mother, it could not be closed. Much as she wished they could move past the threat of his terminal stupidity, it remained a going concern; angry, ignorant young men thirsted for revenge. He would be back, it was only a matter of time.

For now, Marisa returned her attention back to him. "The maid is trying to locate him, but thus far, has not encountered much success. I doubt it will take long, unless your late wife was supporting him in secret. Which is entirely possible."

[Lord Rupert de Vere]

"The woman was notorious for spending my money, anyway," he gave an ungentlemanly snort before finally releasing her and allowing her to sit. "He'll surface soon. He's always been a fool when it comes to money and will no doubt need acquire additional funds. We'll have to watch my daughters. They may try to help him in their mother's stead." It was callous, the way he was talking of his children, but in reality, they brought it upon themselves.

Rupert's gaze once again shifted toward the gem nestled prettily upon her chest. "It matches your eyes nicely."

[Lady Marisa de Vere]

Marisa settled into the chair, a thoughtful nod acknowledging his comment regarding his children. "Your daughter is young enough that we may be able to salvage her, Uncle. Give Hannah over to Princess Fiona's care, I believe she will work wonders with her. And of course, I will do what I can to be of assistance in that regard." She despised the younger Rupert, but the girl was a product of her mother's environment. "What of Curtis?" With Rupert the younger disowned, that left the younger boy to inherit. "He's of an age to be fostered. Perhaps with Lord Lancaster or Lord St. Claire?"

Feeling his gaze rest on the pendant that was Daven's gift to her, her smile softened. "I believe His Grace chose it for that very reason. It's lovely, don't you think?" Had Daven spoken to her uncle yet? Marisa was undeniably curious, but knew it was bad form to inquire. When the agreements were reached, she would be informed.

[Lord Rupert de Vere]

Marisa was giving good advice when it came to the well-being of his children. Perhaps they weren't such a lost cause, after all. "I think it best to spread them out, yes. Hannah might do well under Princess Fiona. I will see if she would like to take on another. As for Curtis, I think I'd rather him be exposed to Lord Lancaster than Lord St. Claire." The statement was softened with a smile, "No offense to him, of course, but I prefer more deft handling than heavy handed." And that brought them to the topic of the man himself.

"Indeed," Rupert stated, a smile toying at the corner of his lips. "It is quite lovely. He chose well. He also chose his words with me interestingly. He stated that he intends to have your hand and will be making the necessary arrangements. He doesn't really know how to ask permission, does he?"

[Lady Marisa de Vere]

Fingers lifted to toy with the glowing, glittering pendant, enjoying the feel of warm stone and cool metal against her skin. A hint of a sly smile curved her lips at the discussion of Daven and his inability to request, versus command. "No, he really doesn't. But then, that sort of commanding arrogance can be both formidable and attractive... in appropriate doses." The Dragon of St. Claire was well-named, and the power that came with being a duke of a line long linked to the royal family, one of the oldest families in Demeria was bound to result occasionally in a man like Daven.

Marisa's gaze lingered on Rupert's face for several minutes before she posed the foremost question on her mind. "Do you have any objections to the match?" It went without saying that if objections were raised, the matter was closed and finished, however disappointed she might be. Marisa's loyalty to Rupert was such that she obeyed without defiance, trusting that he could see further and longer than she could.

[Lord Rupert de Vere]

It was clear to Rupert that Marisa was attracted to the Dragon of St. Claire and perhaps even... fond of him in a certain way? He wasn't all that certain. What mattered the most was that Marisa was pleased with the arrangement. On the one hand, Rupert hated to see Marisa married off, but on the other hand, he was quite pleased to see that she would be styled as Duchess of Twinport if it were go through. If she could give Daven a son, then so much the better.

"No, I don't have any objections other than it may turn out that his gifts to you may be better than mine to you," the statement was a teasing one, and then he grew more serious. "How are his daughters handling the arrangement? And I have to wonder what Carissa will think of it." Rupert suspected Carissa would be fine with the arrangement, but he would rather hear it from the woman herself.

[Lady Marisa de Vere]

At the mention of the golden haired daughters of the Dragon, her smile faded. "They don't know yet. If they do, His Grace has not yet spoken of it to me. I did ask that he arrange a time for the five of us to meet. I'd prefer to start with their blessings, if I can get them." If not, Marisa would cope; ultimately, it was the Duke's decision whom he wedded, and if the ladies St. Claire objected too strenuously or fought her, then they too could find themselves wedded off, or in the case of the younger girls, fostered out.

When he spoke of Carissa, Marisa found herself growing pensive. "I really couldn't say how she'll handle it. It's difficult to read her even at her most open... but I imagine we will discover soon enough. She'll be in Triadon in the near future."