Maegyn sighed, chin resting in the palm of her hand as she listened to her husband ramble on about the truth of his claim on the illlustrious throne of Gwynvyr. She never doubted that Alcuin's blood-claim was true- he was fastidious in his research of Royal Geneology and, if there was a tie between the D'ahra Clan and the Cistain family, Alcuin would've found it. However, despite the verity of his statements, the claim was so tenuous that Maegyn hoped that the Council would see that her husband was grasping at straws and deny his claim. But, along with his keen eye for detail, Alcuin had a piercing voice and a persuasive presence that loomed over the ancient members of the Throne Council. Instinctively, Maegyn knew that Dunnagal would soon be off to a war that it didn't need and likely wouldn't win. Thousands of its citizens, her people, would die to satiate the blood lust of its king and his advisors.
"My Queen." Maegyn looked up and into the eyes of her husband, even and sparkling as he looked down at her with a tender expression and hand extended. "Shall we retire to our chambers and share our meal together?" Smiling, Maegyn took Alcuin's hand and stood, allowing him to escort her from the room and down the corridors of the famous Dunnagan Castle of the Ages. Since coming to the castle as Alcuin's wife, Maegyn had learned to love the ostentatious show of wealth and prestige so evident in the opulent fabrics and paintings adoring the walls, the floors laid with marble quarried hundreds of miles away. For a small nation, Dunnagal was the only challenger to Gwynvyr's hegemony, though the two kingdoms had long been allies.
Until now.
"The Council has agreed and acquiesced to my requests, wife. Soon you shall grace the emerald shores of Gwynvyr, and it will be all the better to have your temperance and mercy governing it." Alcuin smiled, and his beautiful face lit up, blue eyes sparkling with good humour. Maegyn nodded, brushing a lank strand of coal black hair behind her ear, and fought to return the smile. If Alcuin weren't so distracted by thoughts of war, he would've noticed his wife's disquiet and Maegyn's thoughts would've betrayed themselves.
She had to do something. But what could she, Queen of the nation across the Great Sea from Gwynvyr, a woman in a nation of patriarchical power, do to stop something like this from happening? Once her husband had made up his mind, there was no gainsaying him, or swaying his opinions. The Cistain family, though often thought weak for the pale skin and white hair, was nonetheless a powerful entity of opinionated, emotionally strong individuals whose tenacity saw their vision through.
Their progress through the corridors was quiet, husband and wife both sucked into their respective thoughts, but Alcuin drew himself together and whispered a soft command into the ear of a valet as the couple slipped into their chambers and sat at a table laden with food. Alcuin poured Maegyn a glass of wine, which she took greatfully and sipped at graciously. The war was bound to happen, she reasoned, but Alcuin could not bear to leave her behind while he spent what could amount to many months overseas. Once she got to Gwynvyr, maybe she could mediate and something could be done. Maybe Alcuin could sit on Gwynvyr's Council, giving Dunnagal a voice in matters of trade and religion?
There must be something that could keep her people alive.
"Now, dear wife. Beautiful, beautiful, seductive wife..." Alcuin's voice was silken as he whispered into her ear, rubbing a hand up and down her side. Maegyn turned her doe-eyed dark stare to Alcuin's light-featured gaze and smiled. She loved her husband, and wanted to see him happy. But, above all, her people were her care and, if Alcuin's ambition overstretched his bounds, she needed to do whatever she could to act as a Voice for the common man. They should not be subject to the whims of their imaginative, empassioned King.
"Maegyn...what are your thoughts on the war? You've been quiet since the meeting with the Council. You know I value your opinion..."
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