The spring sun filtered through the windows in his suite, and it made little difference to his mood. Clare had been rather too graceless of late, and it was beginning to irritate him. Her very tone held something uncouth and tainted. He was in mourning of her previous manner, also. She was rapidly seeming more common and less charming in previous months. Their stay in Camelot had been uneventful so far, and they still hadn't signed the treaty. Eunan was certain that Uther was still comfortable with his presence within the city and his castle, but he didn't want to unsettle any thin line of civility that was being played out. His hands curled on the window sill that he lent on, causing his knuckles to whiten.

It wasn't long until diner. Clare would be getting ready now. He pushed himself from the sill abruptly and called for the manservants. He would be there before her - it would be imprudent for her King to be late, would it not? Perhaps if he got there early, she would be unsettled. He smiled. Although her very presence was to behold, although her beauty became wonderfully tragic and porcelain with every passing day, he still felt very inclined to remind her of the position she was in.

One of the manservants clipped a pin rather too roughly and pierced skin. Eunan felt a little blood seep from the skin. He clenched a fist and let it fall onto the carved wooden dresser, harshly enough that the manservant stopped dead. He irritatedly waved him off and motioned for another to take over. Were all the servants in this castle incompetant? His own manservant seemed to be doing a fine job now. It seemed that everyone had no full mind of their own. Even the Knights were raucous and drunk for days at a time. After forty-five minutes of dressing, Eunan was finally freed from their tutting and muttering. He waved them off, and made for the dining room. Several other servants followed.

The trip didn't take long, his long strides making it hard for the manservants to keep up. As they briskly walked along behind him, he grinned to himself, his surcoat trailing behind him. One of the men went to open the doors for him, but Eunan shot him a hard look and opened them himself, barely leaving them ajar for the others to enter with him. Then, he let them run on ahead and pull out a chair and whatnot. He walked over, and sat himself down, letting a pale-haired one fuss over his regalia for a few moments before waving him off again, like a Prince swatting an annoying buzz.

Eunan rose a brow. The food did smell delicious today. They must have gotten a new cook. His last meal had been vile. Clare was no doubt making her way now. He called for wine, and held out his glass. he had called for his to be less watered. It would do his appetite wonders. Work and worry had made him decline meals of late. Letting his Queen see shadows in his eyes, would make her ask relentless questions.

Groaning slightly as the last ribbon was tied, her hand pulled against the material of her gown that now slid languidly over her frame. It was a simple dress of a simple fashion that had seemed to swarm over Camelot. Gone were the constricting stays and voluminous skirts instead replaced with an endless trail of material that seemed to pool over her body. Winding long arms around her chest in discontent as Nan and her other ladies flustered around herself she let a small sigh worm through her lips. The gown itself was hardly revolting – eons of emerald silks fashioned together with a trail of sapphire jewels adorning the collar that fell just below her collar bones, to make something that the young queen simply couldn’t fathom. She was used to the formfitting styles of her kingdoms instead of the loose, modest, pious gowns of Camelot’s ladies. She visibly paled when the wimple was presented to her.

Dismissing the hideously plain white linen instantaneously she reached instead for a sheath of near transparent golden silks and cottons as her ladies murmured their disapproval around her, at least it let her hair be seen - neatly combed and pinned with golden clasps in tendrils down her back. It was horrible, she mused, being trapped in another country, bending to their wills and their fashions. She had seen the looks, the degrading, horrified glances as herself, a married woman sauntered freely down the corridors and gardens without so much of a care in her mind for her modesty. Now, under the helpful guidance of her married and firm handed ladies, it was going to change, if not for her own peace of mind but for her ever more strained marriage, at least during her stay in Camelot. The damage she had done to her own kingdom as a result of her brash, somewhat garish behaviour was irreparable.

Donning the golden silk until not a few stray wisps of ebony hair framed her face she clasped Eunan’s gift around her throat, feeling the weight of the sapphire press heartily against her chest. How he had found it she didn’t care to know. The gem was so pure and so large it was almost painful to wear and yet at least it showed she had care enough to don it. Smiling feebly at her reflection in the fractured looking glass she let her eyes lazily drift shut, a warm spring breeze throwing her thoughts into a spin. Everything seemed worse than ever over the last few weeks since Eunan’s arrival and she had little idea why. She hadn’t been informed whether her beloved knew of her indiscretion at the ball or subsequent meetings with Lucan but nevertheless things were decidedly more tense and she had to try her utmost best to appease that, no matter the wave of indignation swelling in her chest.

Vaguely acknowledging Nan’s reassuring smile she clasped on some more trivial jewellery. Things were so different now, between herself and Eunan. She still remembered back to the gay days of her courtship when love and lust entangled themselves between the young lovers, romance tainting her life in a myriad of joy and wonder. How could everything change in just a few short years? She felt her hand gently flutter to her stomach and her breath hitch in her throat. It still stung, no matter how long ago the loss, it still burned and smarted her life. Not a week went by without a thought for her lost children. The gentle eyes of her ladies tore her quickly back to reality as the iron mask fell before her eyes. “Does my husband pay your keep to stand their gawking ladies?”

As soon as the words left her mouth the ladies flustered to a ramshackle attention and she took a breath lungs filling with a clarity of air as she moved toward the doors, vigour and confidence swelling in her chest. Leaving the tranquillity of her chambers, the stifling cold mixed with the far of scent of incense hit her as she moved gracefully down the passageways. Her hands seemed to constantly fall away against her gown, pulling endlessly at the silk that felt so out of place against her body as she indicated for the nearest squire to open the doors for her. Her full entourage of ladies were dressed in their usual demure gowns, white silks adorned with the eagle crest of Boillyeres and she couldn’t help feel jealousy and envy route its way through her body at the shape of their gowns. She was tantalisingly close to screaming back to her chamber and redressing when a creak sounded her entry to the dining hall as the doors swung open.

The stench of the sweet meats and overzealous attempts at the food was almost nauseating as it assaulted her nostrils – she hardly realised the figure seated before her until her ladies dropped into obscenely low curtsy’s and her eyes fell open the king. Allowing the smallest tug of a smirk onto her features she dropped herself low, head bowed toward the ground as her smile widened and a blush coloured her cheeks. “My Lord,” Smiling and with a confident intake of breath she rose and languidly trailed her gaze to his own. “Might I take the honour of joining you?”

Eunan was able to mask his wonder with a simple arching of his brow. He examined a small scar on his palm, and looked up to meet his wife's gaze. Her beauty never ceased to astound him. Her porcelain skin and jet hair were envied by many in Irick. The ladies gasped as she walked by and the men let their eyes trail over her curvaceous form. Even here in Camelot, where manner and etiquette was so different, the men and women stopped to stare. He lifted his goblet to take a heart sip and place it upon the long table, ignoring the handmaidens who bowed and fawned "Of course, my love" he smiled graciously and motioned for her to be seated. Her ladies would have to go. Him and his Queen had matters to discuss.

The dress seemed somewhat too...hmm. He sat back in his chair and let his eyes roam over every inch of her form. It was beautifully made, yet it seemed so modest. The neckline was far too high! At least she had discarded the heavy cotton wimple favoured by so many "Are you faring well? You look a little....paler than usual. The food here is quite abysmal, but I think the cooks are improving somewhat..." his other brow rose. Her little smirk had not escaped his notice. She was in one of her moods - though he had become accustomed to her constant mood swings over the years - and he was very glad of it. He was in the right frame of mind for heated discussion.

"And I see you are taking up Camelots fashion. I do prefer your other dresses, but I'm sure the men in the castle approve, nonetheless" he gave an amused smile, and then looked away from her, motioning for servants to set everything else up. Their presence irritated him beyond belief, but he was quite starving. Though he couldn't even remember what he had ordered for the main platter. A game bird perhaps, or boar. Hopefully it would be better than the coarse, string pork upon their arrival.

His eyes caught a glint of indigo at her throat,and he smirked to himself. At least she had the courtesy to adorn herself with his gifts this evening, and the wit to show it off to all who set eyes upon her. Small shows of wealth did wonders for appearances. They didn't want Uther thinking they couldn't afford everything now, could they? Besides, Clare had been showing herself off a lot recently. Especially at the ball. There had been rumours....dangerous, dark rumours that he was determined to get to the bottom of. Heads would roll if he caught wind of one of the nobles or court touching her.

Perhaps Lord Lusk? Although he was supposedly still in mourning for his wife. The fop was quite useless, and he had been seen with a common blond wench. Sir Perceval briefly came to mind, but he nearly choked up a laugh. It would be quite an achievement for the young lad, would it not? Or maybe Sir Lucan. The man agitated him...make him feel uncomfortable. But certainly Clare would know better than to liaise with a Knight? She just couldn't be that stupid.

Grinning at her husbands gesture she inclined her head, gracefully carrying herself over as her dress fell in ripples over her legs. Giving a peal of laughter that fluttered in her chest she fell into a seat next to him, not daring enough to take the head of the table – not with the tension that felt stifling, palpable in the room. Her ladies stood demurely, scattered around the hall, waiting for their mistress’ instruction yet unwilling to raise their heads above a faction for fear of meeting her disapproving eye. Still, it was nice to have the company, the unease in her chest was growing as her breath quickened and she languidly trailed her eyes to the array of food adorning the table. She was never one of large meals especially here were the food seemed salted at every opportunity, burning on her palette. Sighing despondently she blinked the tiredness from her eyes, raising a newly filled goblet to her lips.

Lightly tracing her eyes back to Eunan’s she smiled, eyes scanning his face as her fingers toyed with the sleeves of her gown. “I’m tired my Lord, I haven’t been sleeping as well as I could’ve. I’m still not accustomed to the weather yet, I fear it’s keeping me awake.” Smiling she let her eyes flutter back to her so far empty platter, not having the appetite to delve into the food. She truly hadn’t been sleeping well recently and the constant rain or snow storms hadn’t helped. Nightmares, not particularly vivid or unnerving yet tiresome nonetheless plagued her nights. When she awoke she could barely remember them and it irked her. She was being pulled into consciousness by her own mind that then let her forget the reason. Sighing she found her fingers reach out for a piece of marchpane that was elaborately enrolled upon a silver platter.

Clare let a smile quirk onto her lips, beat quickening somewhat as he cast a glance over her appearance that was somewhat sullied in her opinion. She was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute – being stranded in such a gown when her own, beautiful ones were lying so tantalisingly close. Still, the glance he cast was appreciative and she let her back straighten in response, a contented sigh filling the air along with the taut silence of the hall. Smiling to herself she let her fingers traverse the material adorning her legs, smoothing out the creases that had erupted over her frame. The sheath across her hair was irritating her tender flesh as she gently tucked a strand of ill combed hair behind her ear – the rest remaining neatly clasped in perfection with golden and sapphire ridden pins.

She had to suppress a choke as his words cuttingly ripped through the quiet and she tore her gaze up, shooting her ladies an awkward glance as her mouth fell open ajar. Wishing she had been brave enough to choose a seat farther away from her husband and with another biting look toward Anne she smiled, her composure returning with all her lost grace. “I am sure they do my love. But have faith that I don’t care a slight for any of them nor their glances. I far more fear the women than their husbands, everything here is so different, so beautiful, their dresses and fashions, mine seem so different in comparison.” Smiling coolly she let a small laugh break through her lips as her gaze returned to her meal.

Fingers ringing together in nervous discontent as her marchpane lay discarded against the platter; all appetite quelled in his company. She wasn’t a fool, she hadn’t missed the subtle threat, the hint of knowledge in his phrasing as she sat idly by. The ball was so far in her memory that she barely remembered it and yet her drunken stupor, her dancing and god’s fury her comments had been known to everyone. Letting her eyes flutter shut as she steadied her breathing she carefully turned a falsely jovial face to her husband’s, teeth seductively playing with the tender flesh of her lips. “And what of you sire? How do you fare? I have heard news that the treaty is going well and that we may return back soon? It’s been so long and I have so missed my court and family.” Grinning she turned her face downward, heart still pulsating wildly in her chest as she raised the marchpane to her lips.

Eunan eyed her curiously for several moments before letting the edge of his mouth rise. There was something...else. He wouldn't force it out of her quite yet. He did like to play these word games. Clares knack for sharp sarcasm and high wit pleased him greatly. Georgina would never have been able to hold such conversation with him without umm-ing and ahhh-ing. And she had had no grasp upon sarcasm or dry humour whatsoever. The fact that she did look ill worried him, though. He couldn't have his Queen falling into a fever "Should I have a physician appointed to you? Camelot's air is tainted with so much...refuse and waste that I'm sure the heat makes it all the more....infectious" he didn't smirk this time. A knot formed in his brow. How could they all be so careless with their hygiene?

"You should eat something, if not but a mouthful. You know how paranoid Uther is. He'll start thinking you're...dreaming up his plot to poison the confections or lace your wine with hemlock" it was a habit of all the female courtiers in his land to slowly starve themselves. Although, he did fine her was of delicate nibbling rather endearing. Her doll-like face appeared so coy and natural in such moments. He remembered when he had first set eyes upon her. She had held such grace and her innocent, doe eyes had pulled him in, a slight smirk always catching him unaware.

"The women? Well, the women here do not seem to be afraid of the men. Your dress, it does to justice to your figure. I suppose we are to fit in this strange realm. Have you made any friends, love? The Knights here do seem to like putting on a show, albeit a load and uncouth one" he rose his brows, suggested firmly planted, and picked a piece of game from his plate, placing it in his mouth with curiosity. Hmmm. Slightly too salty, but passable. He stared in the direction of the maids, who he had forgotten until now and swallowed, brushing his hands before coughing loudly, gesturing for them to leave the room. It wouldn't do for maids ears to pick up on their conversation. Tittle tattle and gossip were always the work of the servants. They left quietly and shut the doors behind them.

He let his eyes slide to her lips, where she nibbling and caused the flesh to become even rosier. Eunan smiled graciously "Oh, I have been faring well. The treaty is going well, indeed. Uther's paranoia is very inconvenient, and his sporadic preoccupation with Sorcery makes me wonder if...." he trailed away, sighing, lifting his hand to brush Clare's cheek, gazed into her eyes warmly "I miss my court too. My people need me. There is no doubt some form of dramatics ensuing...." his brow furrowed again, and then he frowned, eyes sharp and hard "Does the drama the gossip of Camelots court compare to ours, my love?" his fingers brushed her neck, and he tilted his head.

Sorry about the length my lovely, I’m feeling my Clare-Bear at the moment :huh:

Inclining her head at his compliment she let her thoughts meander over his probing and suggestive question. She knew very well what he was asking and she wouldn’t be baited – she wasn’t that much of a fool. But, how many friends had she actually made whilst in Camelot? There had been the odd courtier, Elizabeth – although that was currently debatable, Kadeligh, Alec and by extension Simon and then the Knights with whom she had spent the majority of her time with. Quirking a curious eyebrow as he dismissed her ladies and shooting Nan a wary glance, she turned dangerous, narrowed eyes back to her husband. Whatever he had a mind to say didn’t bode well for her if he had dismissed her women. Still, in an attempt to keep the conversation light she smiled and inclined her head. “Many friends my love. I have invited some women back to Irick, they would no doubt thrive in our court rather than the stale one here and you will no doubt be pleased with them.” Reaching a tentative hand out to grasp his own she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“As for the Knights I think it for your benefit my Lord, they are aiming to show you their superiority over your own knights, which is undoubtedly impossible.” Being careful not to mention the fact that she herself had become acquainted with the Knights, so very acquainted she inclined her head in a loving gesture. Besides, not mentioning it didn’t particularly matter anyway – her husband appeared to know everything of her life, undoubtedly because of Nan’s reports and he surely knew in the least that she had met Taran and Lucan; the latter’s name to cause a feeling of unease to erupt in her chest, her heart thrumming a maddening rhythm against her weary bones. If he knew then this was bad, this was very, very bad and Clare had to stop herself from slipping. Never show yourself, not your true self her father had always used to say and the iron mask slotted firmly over her face once more.

Sighing she reached out a hand to fetch some bread in an effort to appease him, her voice light as she spoke. “We wouldn’t want Uther’s paranoia fuelled would we know my love? Giggling slightly she released his hand, raising a morsel to her lips. She wasn’t starving herself for vanity’s sake – more so that she couldn’t stand Camelot’s food and besides the tension mounting in the room was large enough to make the slender woman nauseas before she had even laid eyes on the platters. It was unnerving, she mused, being alone without her ladies. With Nan and Madge around even the young Katherine she felt somewhat protected – as if Eunan’s actions and words couldn’t escalate to far but now? She felt a small shudder worm through her chest at the thought.

The young Queen sighed as his words absently registered. She missed Irick, she missed the breeze and the pastures, the familiarity and her court. Still she could live without the resentment of a kingdom for sometime longer, that at least was a comfort. Things were better in Camelot now that Eunan had arrived – she hadn’t felt quite so empty; even with Lucan’s company something had been missing and although not completely filled, it was getting there with every passing day. She still craved home of course most especially her father and his guidance, despite being harsh and demanding, he knew how to lead and he lead her well. Carefully affirming her gaze back on his as he spoke she melted into his touch. Then it changed and the hand that was so warm in its caress appeared to freeze on her very skin.

Her body stiffened, shoulders tensing as his hand traversed the expanse of her neck and she dared not think of the symbolism as her breath quickened in her chest. Regaining some of her composure from her momentary lapse she reached to clasp his hand, encasing and kissing it tenderly before letting it fall away. “There is so little going on it Camelot in comparison with our home but in any case I think I miss the drama my love. And I should be the one too miss it – being at the very centre for so many years.” Shooting him a challenging look she quirked an eyebrow. She still remembered the scathing looks not a few days after Georgina’s departure and the way the fire, stemming from the poison, seemed to burn her very being into mere ashes. Shuddering lightly she turned back to her food before her.

“Have you any word from home? Any message or news of my father?” Vying to change the subject in an attempt to appease him if not distract him she exhaled, fists slowly unclenching under the table.

Pleased with them? Many of the courtiers in Camelot were beautiful. At least half of the women at court in Irick had been used up by now, thrown away, now damaged goods. He smiled briefly as she rested a hand on his and tilted his head as the women's footsteps could be heard retreating hurriedly down the hallway "That would be interesting. You should advise them all upon their attire though. We can't have them walking around in those strange rags of theirs" he just wouldn't be able to appreciate them as much if they wore such flimsy cloth over their wondrous curves. It disappointed him that he couldn't just parade his Queen around in anything shorter. Everyone knowing that she was his property just...always put a smile on his face.

"Superiority, really? Ah yes, I do recall hearing something about that. I think they are unwise. They are just showing how small Camelot really is. I'm sure their efforts will be amusing though, My Lady" he took a draught of the wine at his side. It tasted very strange. It had all been tasted, and no servants had fallen flat on their faces but...their was something added. Perhaps it was something he shouldn't think about "The courtiers here seem to fawn over those Knights constantly. It's a wonder that the men actually have time to defend their kingdom" he knew their names, he knew their faces. What was stopping him from simply having them executed now? Oh yes, the threat of war. Despite his apparent steel calm, Eunan was terrified of becoming Camelot enemy. The land may have been smaller than others, but it certainly made that up by having some of the best Knights and politicians in Albion.

He would have to confront her about them directly before this evening came to an end. It wouldn't do for the matter to fester within his mind. It would all just make him do something rash "No dear, we wouldn't. Not at all" he half-registered her giggle. He smirked a little, half-considering ending the dinner early. But the thought passed, and his anger was fuelled again. Had her Knights heard that laugh? If they had touched her, they would be punished. It was very simple, really. Of course, he had proof but upsetting Uther at such a crucial time would not bode well at all. It was the blond one he was most interested in anyway. Besides, he was very sure the curly haired fop was all cut up about the wench, or in love with the blond Knight or something. If the Knights were so fickle with their affections, perhaps they would also be with their loyalties.....

Eunan's hand dropped, and he shot her a dark gaze, her own dangerous and challenging. Did she want his fire fuelled? Clare seemed to incite every passion within him, bad or good. Today was a slight mixture of both. He pushed his goblet of wine away and laughed heartily at her comment "The whole of Irick must be bored out of their minds with an evil Queen to gossip about. Do you think they'll have pyres and axes ready for you when we return home?" his eyes flashed. Although playing word games was fun, he became bored of hinting too easily. It was entirely his fault. He should have just dragged her out of the dining hall and confronted her immediately. Never mind "I have heard no news of your father, but I have sent a messenger to the court. I think that perhaps there will be news in a few weeks"

Suddenly, Eunan wasn't all that hungry anymore. he pushed his plate away and sat in silence for a while. Then he stood, moved towards Clare, leaning his tall frame against the table beside her, facing forwards "My sweet Clare, may I ask you something?" he stretched out his hand and let his fingers trail over wisps of her fragile and carefully arranged hair. His eyes seemed wide, distant, both cold and warm.

Clare felt herself wince as he shot her a biting glare, anger warring in his pale eyes as she grew ever more unsettled. She let her teeth play against the tender flesh of her lip, this truly didn’t bode well at all but she wasn’t one of the meek women that would crack at the threat of exile, she had been through too much, lost too much and besides Eunan had loved her for her passion – good or bad. She visibly paled at his laugh. He was in a good mood, jovial and hearty but something wasn’t right there were too many coincidences too many thinly veiled suggestions for her to relax and she felt the tension mount in the room as her eyes fluttered shut. She should have laughed at his imagery, should have forced a smile but the mounting pressure in her veins was near bursting point, things were escalating and she had no clue as to what climax. She didn’t need his jesting threats – she knew all to well, just how expandable she was. Breathing deeply she wrenched open her eyes, forcing them onto her near empty plate, what little hunger she had dissipating.

She nodded demurely at his last comment not having the energy nor the insanity to reply. It was odd, she mused, she hadn’t truly realised just how alone she was. Camelot could have been an island for all the company she had in it. The streets were endless dark passages filled with the same monotone people – each with anger fuelling their eyes – always courteous but never nice. At least people in Irick had some fire – they would recognize and acknowledge their Queen, before they spat on her. Even now, in this room she was floating adrift. Her father, poets, bards, ladies and courtiers seemed a constant presence in her life as if she was one with them that to be without them was so foreign it was almost nauseating. There was nothing here, shooting a cautious glance around her eyes settled upon the imposing form of Eunan. There was nothing for her here besides her husband and heartache.

The scrape of Eunan’s plate against the wood shook her and her eyes ripped round to his form, shoulders flinching and mind alert. Smiling in apology she raised a now replenished goblet of wine to her lips, inhaling the splendorous aroma. Stop being a jumpy lackwit – you’re giving yourself away! her mind battled with her fright addled body in a rival of wills that matched her own marriage. Letting the wine slip down her throat she sighed, warmth spreading throughout her body. She was tired – the shadows marring her flesh a testament to that, moreover she was tired of this, the fighting the tense silences, the waiting for the argument that broke his patience. During their tempestuous courting it was exhilarating, exciting and Eunan no doubt enjoyed the paling change from his weak willed first wife. Now? Now she was getting older, their marriage had staled as had their quest for an heir and she evermore craved stability, something she knew that unless one of them broke, would never happen.

She smiled faintly, wistfully as the bitterness enveloped her. Turning back to Eunan, her brow furrowed lightly – silence ever more pressing. He seemed to be warring with something, something serious enough to be causing him trouble and she felt her already sporadic breathing quicken in her chest. She almost cracked from the tension as he loped from his seat with all the agility of a man half his age. Her pale fingers fell below the table, crescent marks sprouting crimson in her palm as her taut fists tightened. He was close and abnormally quiet in such a circumstance, an air of disappointment weighing heavy around him. She felt a light shudder run through her flesh, keeping her eyes downturned on her abandoned plate, even if she was ravenous she wouldn’t dare disturb the hush by her eating, it seemed any movement would crack the uneasy truce between herself and her husband.

His fingers carefully ghosted across her flesh, entwining themselves in the meticulously pinned hair, if she’d been in a better mood she would have laughed at the undoubted exasperation on Anne’s face. Letting her gaze traverse her husbands face as his words echoed around the deserted hall, she could have crumbled. She wanted to bolt, to run away and hide herself in a closet or far off city. His eyes were cold, impassive as they stared straight ahead and she swallowed, voice wary. “Are you not the King? What is it my love?”

A smile tugged at his lips, and he let his gaze fall onto his wife's petite features, his hand falling to her shoulder "I'd like to know if my men have been telling lies. Can you tell me if they have?" he squeezed her shoulder, a little too hard but then lifted it away and stood, circling her seat to lean on the opposite side, arms folded across his chest, eyes fiery and even slightly...accusing "Because they have told me of rumours, eye witness accounts of some very disturbing behavior on your part...." he lent in close to her, hands falling to rest at his sides, on the hard wooden table.

The meal was completely forgotten now. All that existed was him and Clare "I have it on good authority that you have been visiting a Knight by the name of Sir Lucan Beirne, and have been consorting with another by the name of Sir Taran Lusk. Both their Lordships are well known within this court. Tell me....is it true that you have had relations with Sir Lucan? Apparently....Sir Taran is pursuing a cheap wench of some sort. Or did you....give yourself to them both?" his voice had been calm, but as he had went on, it had began to waver and rise ever so slightly. His mouth was now set in an ugly, straight line and his eyes burnt like a terrible pyre.

"Please remember, my wife, that you are just as disposable as Georgina was and that if I find that you have lied or cheated me, I WILL NOT hesitate to....." his hands gripped the table, until the knuckles became white. He closed his eyes, and looked away from her to calm himself.

"Will it be necessary for me to have these Knights followed? I could inform Uther of his Knights indiscretions. I'm sure he could punish them very nicely. You have seen what he does to Sorcerers who threaten his kingdom. What would he do to his own Knights?" he shot his gaze towards her again and then stood rapidly again, this time walking away from the table, turning his back to her "Your imprudence does not please me, Clare. We are in the middle of signing a treaty. Cheaply dealing with Knights is not something I would have recommended" he couldn't look at her. He knew that if he did he would shout....lose his temper fully. The guards outside would hear shouts, and then Uther would hear of their arguing.

But his temper wouldn't hold for long.

The pain in her shoulder at his clasp was a dull ache, barely recognizable above the pain of her quickening breathing the numbing agony of her mind. She let drawn breaths drown out everything else as he circled her as a vulture over a corpse. She could have smiled at the analogy. Nausea crawled at the back of her throat but she forced it down, she was cracking and she knew it. His voice, as it descended over the room was taut and cutting and she turned her face apprehensively up to his – filled with challenge and unsung fear. “Behaviour my lord?” She wanted to fall away under his gaze, to melt back into recluse and shrink away into exile but she wouldn’t, no matter how fervent her shakes or how agonisingly tight her fists. Then, with not more than a few words, it fell apart – the facade, the composure, her very world seemed to erupt in disordered chaos in her mind.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened in despair. Sir Lucan Beirne. Sir Taran Lusk. Give yourself to them? Everything seemed to still as her eyes fluttered hopelessly to the door. She could run but in her gown and with the guards she doubted she’d get very far. Turning her face away from him, her eyes slammed shut, breath coming far too quickly as her shaking hands clenched farther into her palm. No. She wouldn't be a coward, she wouldn't bolt, she would stand - and lie. Voice cracking lightly she kept her eyes forced shut, her words resilient through the pain and revulsion as her own farce spewed from her mouth. “I cannot believe it Eunan. How can you say that, to me? You saw with your own eyes at the ball, we are friends. They comforted me when you were dallying in Irick, when you sent me here for your doing so you could rent yourself with one of your harlots.” Her voice, was pleading yet incredulous and biting with anger as she spat the words from her mouth.

Yet she still felt the faint rise of nausea burn her throat. She was lying for her own neck and it was breaking her in two, maybe she deserved the scaffold. In light of a better word, she was utterly pathetic. If she had been at home with her father, with her courtiers this would never have happened and even if it had she would have had the guts to argue back with more vehemence than she could muster now. She just seemed a shell – everything she had worked so hard for, strived for was hanging over the precipice and for what? A small dalliance with a knight and a tenuous friendship with another? She should send herself up to the pyre for her own stupidity. Breathing deeply, shoulders shaking as her gaze had tore furiously back to his face - anger burning in her eyes she met his gaze. Still, despite her own anger, her own stupidity, it wasn’t all her fault.

He had abandoned her in a country by herself, he had left her without friends nor comfort and with only her ladies for solace. A small choke wormed through her lips at his comment and she felt herself slump forward, head buried in her hands as long over due tears marred her eyes. “Then I am sorry, I am so sorry for believing that you loved me Eunan. How can you even say that? Maybe I should go to the scaffold if you care so little...so little about me.” Shame flooded her face as she furiously batted the tears away. Red hot anger surged as freely as distress throughout her blood and she shot him a fury burdened gaze. She knew her life was always in danger but it..it was hard to admit that it would be by his hand, the hand that had raised her could and would readily strike her down just as swiftly. Her voice was quiet, pleading and contemplative as she looked upon his face. “I loved you...I love you more than she ever could, why can you not see that?”

She absently waved her hand at his question, mind elsewhere. “Do as you will my lord, follow them as you wish.” She was pathetic. She had hoped to be strong, resolute and instead she was cracking like a child and she couldn't believe it. Her lies repulsed her, his mere presence and her actions disgusted her. She vaguely heard him move around her and her shoulders flinched. Heaving herself up as his words echoed across the chamber she backed from the chair, quietly moving up behind him, breathing loud and obtrusive into the quiet as she tentatively placed a shaking hand upon his shoulder.“I swear to you that I’m being honest, nothing has happened, nothing will ever happen. Why do you not trust me?”

Once again sorry for the length, it wasn't this long when I planned it! Clare just, sort of, got away with me :blink:

Eunan couldn't help but feel amused at Clares attempts to further conceal her lies. She had always been skilled at keeping on a mask of deceit though, and it didn't surprise him that there was such conviction in her voice - it was true that his mind had wandered to ideas of her upon the gallows, or upon an execution scaffold.Even though they had been mere thoughts, Clare seemed to be able to sniff them out and work and weave through her treacheries like....like a Jezebel and a devil. It was however, why he loved her. Or at least, one small reason why he hadn't thrown her to the dogs so soon. The slight undertones of pain in her voice troubled him, but he smirked and didn't let the dangerous emotions of guilt wreck his features. She had betrayed him! He laughed coldly "Oh, you want to play it like that? Do not play the fool with me, Clare. I will uncover the truth one way or another. You know that" his voice was full of poison, but he couldn't help smirking.

He kept his body turned away from her, and sighed heavily "Dallying? I had business to attend to. Or have you forgotten my position? There are plenty of ladies at this court to befriend. Why Knights? Handsome Knights, at that" the look in her eyes was filled with sorrow, and he felt his chest tighten. He turned briskly and his eyes flashed dangerously "It is no concern of yours whom I associate myself with in your absence - ladies of my court or Uthers. Your opinion on that matter is void...." he spoke with fury, his hands flexing at his sides, his body taut with anger. She had to remember her place "Perhaps your inability to give me a son is because of your affairs. It wouldn't surprise me if the Knights here rendered your completely barren"

This treaty was too precious to wreck, yet he was very sure that these Knights of Camelot would ruin any trust he had had in a friendship between Irick and this kingdom. If his wife was going to pick and choose Knights at random, then it could be wise to return straight home and put the treaty on hold for a few months. Maybe he should tell Prince Arthur to keep his men in check - the young royal obviously knew of his soldiers endeavours, yet did nothing to discipline them!

"If you love me, why do you do this to me? I shouldn't have to ask people at this court who you are dancing with or who your are flirting so boldly with. I....." oh, but did she love him really? Or was she scheming again, like she had done so many times before? Her scheming had never effected him so much. Usually he merely found it endearing. But this....this caused a tirade of emotions within him....anger, resentment, jealousy, sadness. Her words cut into him, and he stalked over to her with large,long legged stride, and took her by both shoulder, pulling her into him with cold eyes "Perhaps I SHOULD! Noo....no. I could just throw you into a tower and leave you there for a few months. Would you like that,, Clare?"

His grip lessened, and he let his hands fall away from her "I want to trust you, my love. I do. But what do you expect me to think? I don't simply go by gossip in court. I have my sources, my men. You know that. Why do you flaunt yourself to the men of Camelot as if you were a cheap harlot? I pulled you up, but it seems that you insist upon falling again"

She let a small laugh flutter from her lips as her hands clenched into smaller fists, crescent marks deepening a crimson blush on her palms as she quirked a bemused eyebrow. "I befriended knights, my love, because the women of this court, and indeed our own insist on being fools. They prance around their husbands, the courtiers with inane grins on their faces - happy to go about their lives being nothing more than chattels. I chose knights because I needed conversation on something other than silks and children. I needed intelligent conversation! Is that too much to ask?" She scoffed, fingers falling away to grip the wood of the table as she fell back. Anger and indignation was bruising her chest as she toyed with her lip as she met his dangerous gaze and she dropped her own eyes at his next words. Oh she had heard those rumours - of course she had. She had been one of those rumours not six years ago, still the painful blush of anger seeped into her bones. How could he admit it? Dismiss it? Were they not to be faithful to one another, and was that not what they were arguing at now?

“Then perhaps you should go to your wenches my love, maybe you’ll even find some new ones in Camelot.” She sneered, her brow furrowing as she indignantly turned her face up to his as his biting words cut tore her mind into fractured shreds. She didn't mean to do it. Her hand almost reached of its own accord, long fingers lacing around the stem of the goblet as it flew across the room - crimson wine cascading through the air as she let out a choke of fury and desperation. The goblet she had inelegantly thrown landed with an erroneous crash at his feet and she let out a gasp - chest and lungs rapidly seeking air as fury and devastation burned through her. "I had a son. I had your son, or have you blocked that from your mind? How...how dare you?! Do you not think it pains me every day to know that my child lies dead and buried beneath me and how it has been so long since I could hope for another? It breaks my heart Eunan. I...I..."

She let out a rousing choke that broke through her lips in a sobbed scream before her hands moved across the table, swiping the plates and pitchers from the table until the fell into a heap against the floor. The wine had snaked, curled its way across the reeds lacing into the hem of her gown until her very appearance was seemingly marred with the blood that would no doubt be spilled on her own head. Face contorting in a wince, she fell back against the table - chest heaving as her palms gripped the wood and her head hung before her - sheath askew and tendrils of raven hair marring her face. She barely heard his words as melded anger raged and warred within her. She wanted to rip away the facade, the hangings the meal, each and every piece of jewellery that marred her skin - it felt so cold, dead - an unnecessary weight against her skin. That had been a step to far – even for him.

The grip on her shoulders ached a numbing pain and she winced lightly, tearing her face up to meet his - eyes indignant after her earlier outburst. She didn't know what it was that whenever she was angry she threw things - pitchers, plates, coffers - anything she could grasp. She had been that way since she was a little girl and yet the coldness of his voice, the anger and agony tore right through her petulant outburst and she quirked a challenging eyebrow. "Then go ahead, sire Lock me up away from your view, throw away the key," She smirked - an irritating contortion of her lips as she carefully tipped her head up to his, faces hairs apart. "But d'you really think you could forget about me?" A small bubble of almost maniacal laughter broke through her lips as she pulled away and his hands did the same. Straightening up, her eyes, stone cold and unemotional met his.

She couldn't believe it. He was the one who condoned her gowns with their low cut bodices, their flowing skirts. He was the one who had pushed her here alone, and had always told her to socialise yet here he was - angered by her doing just that! She smirked a little, even she was starting to believe her own lie - socialising, that was all she did right? "You pulled me up because you loved me. I still love you highness, no matter what you may think. I flaunt myself for your own pleasure! You dictate what I should wear, my company, my staff. I was merely doing as you commanded! If not trying to gain a little independence."

"Intelligent conversation from the Knights of Camelot?" despite himself, he threw back his head and laughed. Now there was an amusing notion. They all seemed like such idiots. How could Clare assume to find stimulating words flowing from the mouths of the drunken playthings of Uther? She did have a point though. The women here - even the women at his court - seemed to talk endlessly about dresses and their lovers and who had wrote them poems and what fabrics to line their furniture with. It was all so tedious "Are you not my chattel? Or have you....forgotten that?" there was a playful smirk in his eyes, dangerous and inviting "But of course, it is not too much to ask. I only ask that you don't flirt so wildly with them. Especially right in front of Camelots entire court. People whisper. You might as well paint your face, dearest one. Because you act like one of Iricks fine ladies of the night" he laughed a little, a deep and draughty sound. As if he didn't laugh too often at all "The whole kingdom seems to think of you as such. Why not Camelot?"

"I grow so tired of your utter irresponsibility that the wenches of Camelot are looking to be ever more beautiful than before" he had found himself gazing at many of the ladies of this court. Lady Elizabeth, with her raven hair and her ivory skin. The maid of Lady Morgana, with her darker skin, and soft, dark eyelashes. Even the Lady Morgana herself. He had had to keep his mind focused, however. He was very sure Uther would kill him if he tried...anything with Morgana. Lady Elizabeth wasn't a bad idea though. He was bought out of his reverie by the resounding clash of metallic tankard upon stone floor. His gaze flew to his feet, and shot back up to meet Clare's expression of fury, pain and anger. Ruby red wine soaked his tunic, his cuffs. The liquid soaking to his skin went unnoticed. A tumult of cold and warm coursed through him and he smirked widely. Plates, cutlery and goblets circled threw the air, tumbled to crash upon the floor, food spoilt upon the stones. Her anger sparked fury and utter love within him, and he was unsure what to do to her this time.

His son. Eunan tried always to forget. Forgetting was his sole purpose. It pained him every hour of every day, to think about his lost son. he had cried, and wept and destroyed himself over and over again at the agony his wife had endured. But he hadn't let her see it for years...and he wouldn't let her see it now. His expression was blank, stony. She wouldn't see his grief. A strong Queen needed a strong King. She would not see it.

He couldn't answer that question. Clare already knew that he wouldn't be able to forget her. For every day that was she locked away, he would not sleep. Eunan couldn't deny that having her in chains would give him a little sadistic pleasure. But....living without her voice, her essence, the softness of her skin. It would torture him beyond belief. He needed her as he needed breath. The words now flowing from past her lips were too close, too full of truth. Of course he wanted men to ogle her! But at the same time, he hated it. He hated them all for wanting her. She was his, and no one else's! Camelot was obviously tiring him, making him do and say things he normally wouldn't. It was all her fault.

His close proximity to her made his chest rise and fall rapidly, face scowling deeply. Suddenly, and forcefully he slapped across her left shoulder, across the right shoulder. Why was she weeping so? He had been like this before, had he not? She had to realise that if she acted so badly that she would be punished for it. The smug expression in her dainty face had to go. He grabbed her shoulders again after the slapping and moved in close. So close that he could feel her sharp, hot breath on his lips and face "Perhaps, I do love you. But you must keep up appearances my love" he moved ever more closer, pressing against her "We don't want Camelot hating you too. And gods forbid, even Kirkwall. Perhaps all the realms within Albion, will one day despise you"

She let a painful choke worm through her lips at his silence. Did it not bother him at all that their child was lying under their feet? That they would never hold their son again, never hear its lusty bawling, never comfort him or watch in awe as he grew into the man his father wished he could be. "Maybe you don't care." She sneered, repulsion curling her lip as she spat the words at his stoic face. "Maybe your army of bastards can quell the loss of your true son!" The words were screamed angrily against the enclosing silence and she swiped away a tear that dribbled down her pale cheek. How could he act so indifferent? She had seen him weep, seen his broken beside her childbed on that fateful day, how could he so easily forget? Her nights, all these years later were plagued by images of a blue eyed child with a shock of dark hair - always so close, but just out of reach, how any man nor woman could act as if she were talking about a stray mongrel rather than their own child, it sickened her and she felt a wretch worm up her throat before it was carefully stifled.

The force of his slaps across the tender flesh of her shoulders recoiled through her strong enough to make her let out a light mewl of pain. He had never so much as laid a hand upon her during their marriage, or if he had it was of her own true foolishness and temper that had spurred him on and even then it was only a light touch that barely marked her. Now? Now she could feel all the anger, all the tension surge through his body in that single moment and it was all she could do to not strike him back. Fingers clenching into pitiful fists she winced as he grabbed her shoulders and hissed already feeling the flesh blossom an unsightly purple beneath his fingers and she turned her cheek to his, breath falling rapidly against the fractured air of the dining room. The tears had stopped, instead ungainly tracks of water marred her cheeks where indiscretion had lain and she tried furiously to wipe them away as his hands grasped the tender skin of her shoulders with ever increasing pressure and moved forward, separating the tangible distance between them as she snapped her eyes back to his, breath falling away against her chest and the thunder of blood thrumming in her ears.

She turned her cheek once more at his words and felt herself swallow, anger bubbling dangerously in chest as it took all of her well earned strength not to scream at him. Instead, eyes cold her trademark, irritating smirk that furled onto her face with a harsh laugh as she raised her hands, pushing with all her might against him until she was free of his body and she spat the words to his floor, breathless from the exertion. "Of course Eunan! It makes perfect sense! A man in love would threaten death to his wife, would ignore her upset and yes I do so hope that the rest of Albion hates me, perhaps then they'll do your dirty work for you and off me themselves." A light shudder ran through her body at the memory. Poison, she had deduced after both incidents, was one of the worst ways to die. People assumed you were asleep - that you couldn't hear their mutterings over a new wife for the king, or couldn't feel the fire as it inch by inch covered your body. She winced lightly and raised her face to Eunan.

The sheath that had once demurely covered her head now lay askew, almost falling away and tendrils of neatly clasped hair was left over her face obscuring her vision and lying dormant on her cheeks that were flushed a brilliant pink from the effort to keep her petulance in check. Her gown was stained with the wine that had been thrown of her own accord and the neck had been left at an odd angle by his ferocious grip as her chest rose and fell with exhaustion and it took every ounce of sapped strength in her body to keep upright. Giving him a wan smile as she in vain, tried to calm her breathing she inclined her head to the door. "Would you like me to leave you on your lonesome sire? So that we may talk when you’re in a more favourable mood perhaps? Ouch. Perhaps that wasn't the most sensible thing to say but Clare was far beyond the point of caring as she gently hitched up her wine soaked gown and moved to go past him - neck and shoulders aching uncontrollably from his previous grip. Coming to rest next to him as she moved toward the door she fell down into a low curtsy. "Highness" She spoke as she inclined her head and straightened up - fury still burning in her body.

((Sorry it's a bit short. It's properly early, bleeeeh))

"If I have bastard sons, they are far away and are kept away should be. But alas....perhaps all my apparent wenches can bear me a living, healthy heir!" his breathign had become shallow, and his eyes were ablaze, despite the stoic disposition of his expression. He was so angry with her. The very thought of another man touching her sent waves and white hot jealousy through his veins and seem to blott his vision with tiny, swirling dots. It was a true indicator to his love for her. All the threats of beheading and hanging and imprisonment were empty - she should know that. He would never send his Clare to the gallows, to any harm at all. When she stepped back from him, he was readying himself for a counter strike against his face or shoulders. He was even ready for a strike between the legs.

But nothing came, and she pushed herself away from him with surprising force. Her breath rasped out in ragged bursts and he smirked "A lynch mob would be so uncouth, my dear. An axe is clean. Hanging keeps the peasants foaming at the mouth and imprisonment makes for such good stories. Can you imagine?! 'Oh, I had this wife once. She was with every Knight she could set her eyes upon! So I put her in a high tower. And kept her there'. The courtiers would love it" his voice was dripping with sarcasm, and he was having trouble concealing laughter. It was all he could do not to cry out and scream and rage.

Her wry little smile did nothing to make this any easier. Fists clenched at his sides. When she had moved away, Eunan had come to rest very close to the table, where the plates lay askew, where crimson wine lay spilled. She dropped into a curtsy and turned away from him. His vision blurred, and he frantically grabbed everything on the table in reach and threw it towards her, sweeping plates, platters, cultery and tankards to the floor with a resounding crash. He was unsure whether or not any of the metal would hit her - in fact, he wasn't sure what he had thrown at all "GO THEN! If you leave now, I swear you will never come back to me!" he shouted, raged, eyes aglow with searing heat. He breathing was still shallow, even more so now, and he was shaking from anger.

Was he that jealous and paranoid that she would be gone from him? He was sure he would wither without her presence.

"Please...please stay, and I won't shout again, or bruise you. I promise...." the sporadic and rapidfire changing in his mood swing today was rather unsettling him. It was far from tiring. Him and Clare had blazing rows for a pass time. His jealousy was no doubt the cause of it all. Oh, he loved to show her off. But the idea of a man actually touching her? Unthinkable.

Clare felt herself wince at his words, shoulders flinching. The way he spoke - as if taking your own wife’s life was the easiest thing in the world - it sickened her and she felt a wave of nausea and repulsion curl through her blood for the man she had given up everything for. Was with every Knight she could set her eyes upon Clare let out an incredulous choke - eyes burning as she edged closer slightly voice burning the air with fury. "Maybe I should go and find a knight Eunan. Only the Lord knows I waited so long, sacrificed so much to be with you only to have you despise me, to hate me! Maybe I should go down onto street corners and sell myself? I'd enjoy that a more than I could whilst being anywhere near you." Her breathing was shallow, rasping against her chest as her voice as she spat the words dripped with venom and unbridled rage. And yet as she turned away from him at was all she could do not to let the hot, angry tears that were pooling fall from her eyes, she had done wrong but she didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve to be threatened by her own husband, her love.

She heard the roar of crashing metal before she felt it and turned her head a fraction as whatever was left on the table was hoisted in her direction. She stumbled, gasping lightly as a wave of thick wooden plates and ornate tankards collided with the tender flesh of her side. Her free hand groped the table for support as the other wound around her ribs, hissing through her teeth as she gently probed the area. She flinched as his voice screamed through the silence and she could almost envision the guards outside, ears attached the doors as they listened in awe to the monarchs roar. Her breathing matched his - short, shallow gasps as a red heat flushed her face and she tore off the sheath that had fallen askew over her hair. Her fist clenched at her sides as the silence fell and she simply couldn't muster the strength to face him. They had argued in the past, they argued near every day - but not like this. It was usually trivial matters that barely got her riled. Now? She was facing the full fury of a king, a husband scorned and she was powerless against it.

His voice as he spoke again broke her from her mood and she carefully turned around, hand still groping her ribs from his earlier bout of petulance and she merely stood, watching him - displeasure mounting in her very stance. "And what is to stop you, your majesty, going back on that promise as you went back on yours, your vows to love me, honour me are all but destroyed," Clare had to hold back a wince at her words - honourable wasn't something that she could ever claim to be. "I love you, so long as there is breath in my body - I will love you. But...But you can't expect me not to have friends! You can't expect me to sit on my bower with my ladies and lock myself away from the world Eunan! I...I know," She paused, trying to regain some of her lost composure as she edged closer to him, hand still trained on her bruising flesh. "I know I can never have a claim of being the perfect wife but I do love you and what do I get for it? Screamed at? Hit? Killed?."

Eunan blinked back a strange itchiness that had clung to his eyes, and cleared his throat of dryness. No...no he wouldn't beg her. She was the one in the wrong here, not him. It was her own fault for chasing after Knights. He hated other men wanting her, but he also craved it. Apparently when both of these ideals clashed, his mind became torn, and his temper erupted in fiery sporadic bursts. He didn't want to dress her like a demure maiden, and he didn't want to lock her away, or cage her. A beautiful being such as Clare needed to be free and happy. His abuse and shouting would have to cease. His blatant, and terrible jealousy had to be pushed down, far down. But her clipped tones weren't doing her any favours, and his sad, mourning expression fell away like a marble mask and shattered, and he shot her a poisonous gaze "It would please you to walk the streets? The men would pay vast amounts to bed a disgraced Queen" his lips twisted into a smirk.

He felt nauseous, but the probably manifested itself in a disgusted, bitter expression. Leaning forwards, his hands fell onto the edge of the table, and he let his head tilt downwards. The air stank of straw, sawdust and spilt wine. The deep gulps of air he took into his lungs did nothing to relieve his sickly disposition, and he closed his eyes as Clare spoke. He opened his eyes, and looked up at her as she edged closer. The scent of her was drifting closer to him, and it infuriated his senses even more. The idea of another man being close enough to inhale the scent of her skin....it sickened him, made him shake with fear, anger, jealousy. She was breaking him down, this woman. The woman he loved. He tried taking deeper breaths, but that just resorted in his head starting to ache. So gently, he pushed him up from the edge of the table, and looked at as though through a hazy fog.

"I cannot stand your incessant whining anymore, Clare. You bore me. Don't call upon me in the next few days. I will call upon you. And if I hear any of Camelots Knights uttered against or with yours, I will be very displeased" his voice was quiet, yet dangerously close to explosion again. He was desperately fighting off the need to bring her into his arms and apologise, to keep her close and to tend her wounds himself. But....he didn't want to speak to her anymore today. This week. He didn't really know. It didn't matter how long it took, as long as he regained his composure and got back his Clare. The Clare that had left Irick. The Knights of bloody Camelot were ruining everything, and keeping the faith upon this treaty was going to prove more difficult now. He would have to stop himself from declaring war upon this place just because his wife had been messing around with some girly Knights.

"GET.OUT!" Eunan clenched his fists at his side, and suddenly erupted again. He was shaking violently, fighting against physically pushing her away, or picking up cutlery, or doing something even more drastic. If she didn't turn around and leave, she would witness his collapse however. His falling to the floor in a mess of tears and sorrow. Clare couldn't see that. It just....wouldn't do.

Clare left her fingers probe the expanse of her side as she heard her husband’s breath quicken and then settle. Something ached deep within her, a burning of fire against the soft palette of her flesh and she felt herself let out a mewl of pain as she drew her fingers from her rib, clenching her fingers into a fist against her gown, hands clenching into the material with childlike relief. His words were low and yet filled with vile and something lurched uncomfortably within her chest and she drew a breath, eyes downcast at the ravaged meal that now lay strewn about the rushes. She wanted to cry and scream at him, to beat her fist against his egotistical chest until she was bloodied with the effort. But she didn't and she couldn't, she wouldn't let him see the effect he had upon her and so instead she raised her head, breathing in a gasp of fresh air that burned her aching side as she coolly let go of her rumpled dress, fingers flexing by her sides. "I will of course do as his majesty demands, in all matters. No matter how petulant they may be." Clare felt her lip furl into a perversely attractive sneer that flashed dangerously through her eyes.

"But D’you realise, Sire, that you haven't answered my question? Pray, please tell me what happens to wives that love their husbands? Do they get maimed or killed?" She spat the words with an incredulous choke as her fingers flexed and fell. Clare tentatively stepped forward, reaching a hand to grasp his cuff. She didn't know why but she needed to be near him, to feel some obscure connection. Perhaps it was better than an apology; not that she'd force one through her lips anyway, but a reassuring hand upon his own was enough to placate her flaring mood. His roar broke through the tentative silence and she let a choke break through her mouth, shock and pain burning against her face as she felt him shake and flex under touch and she retracted her hand as quickly as she had laid it upon him. she could argue but something deadly burned across his face, in his stance and she took a pace back, breath quickening in her chest as her arm fell back to wind around her ribs, fingers once more returning to clench feebly against the fabric as she took another languid step away from her husband.

She truly didn't trust herself in this mood and she certainly didn't trust Eunan, perhaps it would be better just to leave and content herself in her bower until her husband called to seek her apology. Wincing slightly as a flush of pain ran up her side she fell down into a low curtsy, dress falling demurely by her sides. She was swallowing her pride but perhaps it was for the best as she gently eased herself up and turned her back to Eunan, shoulders tensing as she ventured toward the doors before coming to a gentle stop. She was hairs from leaving and she could so easily reach up and grasp the metallic handle and waltz out to shrug this evening off and fall exhausted into her pallet but instead she needed to hear this, she needed to understand, for once in her marriage, for once in her life! She needed to understand their relationship and she carefully blinked away a tear that threatened to spill over and shatter her carefully constructed mask. "Can you...Can you tell me, can you please make me understand why we have to do this every single time we meet? Why we have to argue like banshees? Eunan we can't keep doing this!"

She winced then felt the tear dribble down her cheek as she groped for the handle, head falling forward and hair masking her forehead. The world was turning, spinning uncomfortably as sweat formed across her pallid skin, everything was going cataclysmically wrong and she felt powerless to stop it as her hand tightened against the iron and she groaned lightly, biting back a wave of nausea that threatened a wretch in her throat. She was exhausted and she felt her shoulders slump forward causing a fresh expanse of pain to burn her side until she let out another futile gasp. Blood thrummed in her ears and her eyes ripped shut against the haze that was forming – she could attempt to stumble from the room in an increasingly undignified manner but that was hardly going to improve her standing, beside the young Queen feared if she moved a fraction then she might just fall and never recover her footing. She felt so helpless, so feeble and it was peculiar especially so quickly but it was impossible to stop the rush of nausea and stress from seeping up on you and she equally couldn’t stop the word from forming in her mouth. “Eunan...Eunan...”

Eh, sorry it's so long and rambly love :huh: Not really feeling my Clarebear today...

Eunan could have laughed, if the tension wasn't thick enough to cut with a knife. If his anger wasn't causing him to shake violently. He merely smirked, and let her edge towards him, sharply aware of her coarse breathing and her ambled shuffling "The rules are different for wives who betray their husbands..." despite his sharp tone, the actual low volume of it surprised him, and it was a sure indicator as to how tired and weary he was becoming of all of this...of this bloody kingdom and this incessant king. And his insatiable...beautiful...stubborn, and God forbid, witty wife. As he shouted, she had tentatively tugged at his sleeve, and he did nothing to show her that he was interested. She backed away, and a small and satisfied smile spread across his features.

Clare curtsied low, her soft skirts rustling beneath her. She turned and headed towards the door. He was very nearly relieved, but a pang of loss caught in his gut. Not now. Please...not now. he couldn't call her back. They needed time alone, without one another's heated word. He needed her to be gone so he could break down. She spoke softly and he bit at his lip before answering "Before you are a stubborn and insatiable woman, Clare. No other men seem to have so much trouble with their wives...." he laughed a little, the smile lighting up his face, reaching his eyes. It was something rare, this eye-smiling, but Clare deserved it. It fell away into neutrality, and he shook his head "Perhaps we are too similar, or maybe even too different? You incite such...fire within me, my love. There are no words for it"

He shook his head. She couldn't do this to him...bring this out after such a terrible roar had erupted. It made him feel a little strange, as if someone had kicked his ribs, bruising him. His throat itched, and he coughed gently "Clare...please...please just leave. I will see you...again soon. I have pressing matters to attend to. I wouldn't want to keep the men waiting. They get bored. And when they get bored, bad things happen" he smirked to himself slightly. Oh, yes they did, indeed. Did they needed to chains them to walls? They were such animals. But courting ladies was a terribly intoxicating affair. He couldn't blame them.

"Oh! Have your women dispose of that dress. I trust your bought your seamstress with you? My tailor should be back in Camelot, soon. I won't be using any of this kingdoms cloths. Only Irick woven goods will do" he tilted his head, smirking. He hoped his deviating from the initial, mind shattering conversation would work to clam and distract, so his wife could leave with dignity. He didn't want her to be seen stumbling from the dining room in such a way. He also respected her strength, despite his...earlier provocations.

(( No problem :) ))

There was a pain, sharp and biting low in her stomach and Clare found her hand flutter to the flesh as her other feebly supported her. She didn't have the energy to respond and instead let out a low murmur of concurrence, fingers furiously pawing her stomach as another wave of pain pulled against her and she felt bile raise in her throat. Her head was swimming - the effect of too much wine and stress coupled with the taut sensation burning her stomach. She didn't even want to think of what possible insinuations his words held. Clare had never trusted her husband’s men besides her father of course. Their gazes swam with lechery over every woman at court and even when society deemed it they were brusque at best to the young Queen. Gnawing the inside of her mouth to stifle the mewl of pain as she straightened up a fraction and her stomach gave a merciless lurch as another flush of pain traversed her side, Clare let his words absently tug at her mind. What was he on about? Dresses, seamstresses? Giving a barely coherent nod of her head she managed to force mumbled, forced words from her lips. "As your majesty wills it." Clare felt her features fall into a wince at just how feeble she sounded. She could have laughed if she’d had the energy or focus.

She didn't dare fall down in a curtsy for fear she wouldn't be able to rise again and instead settled upon inclining her head shallowly, a thin film of sweat pooling over her forehead as her legs quivered beneath her gown. Something burned deep within her, spreading a fire from her chest through to her stomach, a tearing that wouldn’t cease and she let out a muffled mewl of pain. Eunan wouldn't see her cry out, not again. Shoulders tensing Clare slammed her eyes shut, focused upon forcing the words from her mouth. "I will look forward to your visit Majesty." She raked her eyes open, bright light pooling through her eyes in a hazy sheath. The candlelight that was so dulled burned her mind until another groan wormed through her lips and she dropped her gaze in a vain attempt to keep the loathsome tears and sniffs at bay as she sighed and uttered her words so quietly that she doubted he could hear them. "I didn't betray you." All manner of horrific words blasted her mind and she felt her face fall into another wince. Liar, Whore, Usurper – she’d heard them all before, muttered under sly breath with thinly veiled disgust, never once had she formed them in her own mind.

Yanking the handle as it echoed a resounding creak she winced, winding her arm protectively back around her waist from where it had fallen and she gingerly walked out of the room, possessing none of the confidence she had upon arrival. She'd been broken and now it was up to herself to pick up the pieces. She shot a mollified glance at the two guards standing beside the doors - faces impassive but amusement gleaning their eyes and with a barely suppressed wail of repulsion and embarrassment Clare flounced away, wine soaked skirts dousing her slippers with a crimson slick, hair falling down, veil lying askew as finally she could let the tears fall and a strangled choke wormed from the depths of her throat. She needed to pull herself together, but the anguish burning her chest and the tearing in her body was all but too much. She just wanted to crawl away into the dust. Her ladies would be waiting, anguish basting their faces but the thought only brought fresh pain as she shuffled down the hall, ignoring the reproachful glances and wry amusement. She was humiliated, broken in both mind and body and utterly devastated and Clare Byrne silently vowed that it would never happen again.