|Summary:||Roslyn makes alternate betrothal suggestions to Jacsen.|
|Date:||25 June 2012|
|Tents! Purple and Yellow!|
|Mon 25 Jun 289|
It's been another long and rough night for Jacsen is the word in the Terrick camp; he's only emerging out of his tent now for the first time at midday, which means he's been trying to manage the pain. Just like the morning before, the guards at his tent did not allow anyone to come and go except for Anais and the page Willem. But he comes out now, looking a little pale but walking easily enough with his cane. Pain managed, it seems.
Where Roslyn comes a-calling at the Terrick camp, she seems much more awake and refreshed than the Young Lord. It is not so unusual that her clothing tends towards simple and unadorned in a light yellow cotton, though it fits to her frame perfectly and her hair is swept back with pearl pins. She draws to Jacsen on seeing him, offering a sweep of skirts in a curtsey as she greets warmly, "My lord, you look well this afternoon."
Jacsen is stopped short by Roslyn's greeting, returning her curtsey with a half-bow and a small smile. "I don't like to call a lady a liar," he says wryly, "so I shall say you are diplomatic instead, Lady Roslyn." He doesn't look all that bad, though, not compared to how he must've when the pain or the poppy were worse. "You are ever a vision of loveliness and a welcome sight in our camp. Have you come to visit my brother?"
"I shouldn't think you could prove that I were, unless you chose to believe that you know my thoughts, and we aren't so close as that, my lord," Roslyn counters smoothly, polite but for the slightest smile on her lips. She inclines her head in confirmation to Jascen's question, drawing all the nearer for casual conversation. "I have, Lord Jacsen, as I have heard it from my brother who has heard it from your wife that he is wroth with me?"
"If your words that I look well were a lie, my Lady, then I should strive to look better to make them true, not attempt to hold them to an ugly light," Jacsen says, his smile also slight. "I was not aware my wife had spoken with your brother," he says casually, continuing to walk as she draws near, inviting her to stroll with him. "But he tells the truth of it, as I've heard also. With you, and my sister, and my wife, and with me also." His smile becomes a bit thin. "It is good of you to come to his side."
"I do care for your brother, my lord, even if there is no official bond between us." The depth of warmth to Roslyn's words is a simple thing, a light emphasis turning her phrase even as that steady, hazel gaze slips over Jacsen in a subtle study as she falls in line beside him to walk at his pace. "But perhaps, my level of affection is not returned as I would have thought, given how easily riled he has become with me," she adds quietly.
"Then I am glad to hear it," Jacsen says plainly. "He needs those that care for him. Though he be my brother, yet I do not know him. He has been away a long time." It's half an explanation and half an apology. "But he is a good man, and as we have seen, a good fighter. He has spoken of you with kindness, so perhaps it is only a symptom of his injury that he should seem upset over this." He glances over at her with a curious look, catching her eye for a moment.
"Maybe, my lord, and you must know that I would be relieved to hear so, but it does not seem that this match is meant to me for all that I look upon your brother with affection. If your brother is not invested in it, I can only imagine as to his family?" Roslyn answers casually, the polite tone of her words kept as she meets Jacsen's gaze with a hint of a question.
"You may wonder so, my Lady," Jacsen replies as they continue to walk slowly, at his pace. "As for his family, I can speak to myself. I am very invested and interested for both our Houses' sakes. And though I may, at times, appear sharp, I am not set against you, Lady Roslyn. Surely, you must know that." He gives her an earnest look. "But I will have your family deal fairly with mine, or there can be no betrothal. On that point I must stand immovable."
"I am glad on that, Lord Jacsen, because I can only imagine that you would make a formidable opponent," is returned with light humor, a smile catching at the corners of Roslyn's lips in her own amused look to Jacsen. "Both of our houses have dealt unfairly with each other in the past. I would not wish to continue such a tradition if we look to make such a marriage." A pause, her gaze skimming over his features in a quick study as she suggests, "But perhaps we would find a more agreeable arrangement in a betrothal that is not so pressing. I believe it has been talked about on all sides that it must not be Lord Justin and I?"
"You flatter me with your words, my Lady," Jacsen chuckles. "And yes, I should agree with that sentiment. Trust is not repaired between our Houses - " He takes great care to not put the feud between the two of them. " - but a solution is being worked toward, yes?" Her question is met with a contemplative silence as they go a few steps without speaking. "You mean to suggest a different bride for my brother, perhaps one of your cousins?" he asks.
"I would have our houses deal fairly with one another," Roslyn counters with a hint of warmth to the repeated words, "So, perhaps not my cousin as a match for your brother, as that would ill-fit his status, but for one of your cousins, my lord?" She smiles, a soft thing that crinkles her gaze as she slows to turn to Jacsen, her fingers folding in her skirts as she watches him. She smells of honey, a hint of orange from faraway lands that his mother favored. "It would go far to repairing our trust, without forcing a marriage of your brother with a woman of my—age."
Ah, the elephant in the room. Her age. "My brother has made no protest to your age, nor have I any objections to it," Jacsen responds lightly. He turns to face her, stopping along their walking path to fix a smile on her as the scent of honey and orange drifts his way. "But should you think the match ill-suited, I am open to… alternate suggestions, my Lady. Though I had looked forward to the Four Eagles being graced with your presence."
Her smile lingers, an easy thing as Roslyn replies carefully, "It likely is not my place to suggest such alternatives, but if I am to be honest, my lord, I am glad to hear that you are open to them." She pauses, studying Jacsen in a flicker of hazel eyes over his features. "That is very kind of you to say, Lord Jacsen, though I suspect you are only saying it for kindness' sake."
"I hope you will be honest," Jacsen says, the smile still on his face. "And I hope you'll believe that I am being honest also, not just kind. We would do well with more ladies like yourself at the Roost." For what it's worth, it's hard to tell if he's being ironic or not, but he sounds sincere enough. "It is likely not your place," he agrees as he starts to walk again. "But candor is a quality I appreciate, and propriety needs no constriction in a private conversation, yes?"
"You would have me be improper, my lord?" Roslyn questions with a wry, playful tone to her words for all that they remain polite, falling in step easily beside Jacsen and glancing to his arm. But, with it not offered, she does not take it. "I find it hard to believe you could not find a lady better suited in age, if not temperament. Have you ever met my lady cousin, Jocelyn?"
Jacsen notes the glance to his arm and offers it with a small smile. "If you wished to be, I would welcome it," he says with a slight shrug. "And no, I don't think I know your lady cousin well. Though perhaps I think being matched in temperament would only cause more… difficulties for us, should all Terricks married alike." There's a dry laugh to accompany those self-effacing words. "I mean to infuse the Roost with food and sense both through a marriage."
That smile turns self-deprecating at needing to ask, but Roslyn sets her fingers lightly to his arm in any case and draws all the closer for their conversation as they walk. "Have you met my family, my lord? I do not believe sense is a dowry that we can spare," she answers dryly herself, though she tips her chin in an agreeable nod. "Not matched, perhaps, but suited as you and the Lady Anais are. Though, it must be said if such an arrangement of cousins were made, the dowry would be considerably less. Fair, of course, but…"
Jacsen chuckles, his arm held naturally relaxed as she places her hand on it. "Suited. Well, a reduction in dowry would put us in a more difficult position, as you well know." He lets that hang in the air a moment before he continues. "But there is sense in both our families, hard as it is to believe sometimes. As I said to your lord brother, I am not my father and he is not his. We may come to sensible conclusions yet."
"I find you both sensible men," Roslyn agrees with a smile flashed towards her companion, her gaze sliding once again over Jacsen at his words. "I can understand the difficulty, but a lesser dowry would be better than none at all. And perhaps even better than forcing a marriage that would make your brother miserable."
"Then we shall see what sense we can make of this," Jacsen assures Roslyn. "And, being sensible also, I hope you'll understand that I'll use what leverage I must to reach the best outcome. As with my words when we all sat down at the Four Eagles Tower, none are personal - merely business. I have but respect for you, Lady Roslyn." That given, he pauses outside a tent - looks to belong to a knight of standing - and gives Roslyn a bow of the head. "And now I must part your company. The pleasure's been mine, my Lady. Thank you."
Roslyn stops, her fingers drawing away with only a slight brush against Jacsen's arm before they tuck within her skirts, the gesture seeming more accidental than not. "And what, pray tell, leverage would you use, my lord? I ask merely out of curiosity." But then she catches herself, dropping into a polite curtsey. She adds, "Thank you, Lord Jacsen. I hope to hear more good news to come of these betrothal talks."
Jacsen draws in a breath when her fingers brush against his arm - innocent and coincidental, most likely, just like the accidental touch. "Of House Nayland backing away on a betrothal in the main line, my Lady," he answers honestly. Again, he's careful in his phrasing to keep this from being about the two of them. "Do grace me with your presence more often. Whichever way the betrothals should fall, I should like that." Another incline of the head, another smile, and the Young Lord Terrick ducks into the knight's tent.