January, 1540
Mar. 3rd, 2019 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feredarStory: January, 1540
Characters: Tana, Kellom
Warnings: Tana, arranged/forced marriage.
Notes: Because I clearly needed another AU. This one exists because Helena Bonham Carter played Anne Boleyn once. For the purposes of this AU, Feredar is one of the many small German states that existed at this time. The royal family of the City of Glass reigns in the Ottoman Empire, and I've rearranged a few royal marriages to suit the story. Unless I need to squeeze in another of my fictional nations as a direct counterpart (instead of an addition to the map, like Feredar), all other real-world monarchs and political figures will remain the same. Tana is approximately twenty-three here, making Kellom thirty-one. Andrell would be sixteen, and Mera nineteen.
"I don't like him."
"You don't have to," Kellom said, wearily.
"I won't do it," she said, glaring up at him.
"That, you do have to do," he said, as evenly as he could manage. Normally, he was largely amused by his youngest sister's moods and whims, but after the long, long trip to England, he had learned that his patience for her had a limit. At least, now that they were actually here, and she had some concept of the world she would be living in, her complaints had the benefit of novelty, and some specificity. But, still, novelty could only do so much. Ever since their departure from Feredar, Tana had done nothing but sulk, and whine, and throw her damned tantrums.
And, once, she'd threatened to set the boat on fire. Thank God she hadn't actually followed through.
"You can't make me."
He counted to ten in his head. Twice. "I'm sorry, but it's settled now. We're here. You will be going through with this. And, yes, I will drag you to the altar by force if I have to."
She stared at him, and then her lips quivered.
God. "Don't cry," he said. "I love you, Tana, you know I do, but we are who we are. Our duty must always come first."
She scowled at him through her tears, but, for the moment, kept silent.
"Do you think Andrell and Mera are any happier than you are?" he tried. God knew she didn't get along with either of them; maybe he could get her to behave by defining good behavior as a way to showing up her brother and niece. "At least you don't have to go crawling back to Rome."
"At least Andrell is able to stay home, and have his wife come to him," Tana said. "And at least Mera's husband doesn't smell."
He sighed. "No one is asking you to like the King, Tana. Just marry him."
Her face was all thunderclouds. "I still don't see why it had to be me. Father has an eligible grandson. The King of England has a daughter of age."
"A bastard, and unsuitable," he said. Among other reasons.
She scoffed. "Fine, then. I shall plug my nose and be the best-behaved little brood mare the King could possibly wish."
"Don't be vulgar."
"I'll be as vulgar as I please," she snapped back.
"No, you won't," he said. "Tana, we are not in Feredar anymore. The people here are not going to be accustomed to your moods."
"Then I shall simply have to accustom them," she said, impressively even, for her.
"No, you won't," he repeated. "Tana...please, behave yourself here."
"Or what?" she said. "He'll cast me aside like the others?"
He winced--and that, in fairness, was part of why he'd had so much trouble containing her on this trip. He understood what his father was doing, he even admired it. If Father could pull it off, this web of alliance he was trying to weave, then the world would be an infinitely better place.
Of course, sending the incredibly volatile Princess Tana to marry a king who had banished one wife and killed the second was asking for trouble. And he'd said as much to his father. He'd practically begged for Mera and Tana to switch places. If all that mattered was the alliance, they were equally suitable on the surface.
But, as with all of his children, Father was apparently blind to Tana's faults. Besides, it had apparently fallen to the King of England to choose his bride first and he'd found Tana prettier than their niece. God save them all.
"Please don't give him a reason," Kellom said instead. Anything else would only encourage her.
For a moment, she was silent. "I don't want to be a stepmother," she complained.
"Treat the children as the King does, and you'll be fine," he said, relieved. That was somewhat safer ground.
Something sparked in her eyes, and for a moment he was worried again. But, with a theatrical sigh, she dropped her head and said, "There really is no way out for me, is there."
"Think of what this will accomplish," he said, as encouragingly as he could manage. If she actually was giving in, he could afford to be magnanimous. Anything to make her continue on that path.
"I know, I know," she said, and sighed again. "But you'll save me, if he's cruel?"
"Behave yourself, and he won't be," Kellom evaded. "You are beautiful and intelligent and charming. Just keep a strong hold on your temper, and you may even do well here."
"You think so?" she said, tilting her head.
"Yes," he said. Or, at least, he prayed for it.
With a third and final sigh, she nodded. "Very well. I'll do it."
Finally. He smiled at her, and kissed her hand. "There's my sweet sister."
She flushed, and smiled back.
The disaster defused, Kellom hoped his sister's good behavior held, and she didn't revert to the way she'd been at home.
And he prayed, with all his might, that the King of England knew what he'd gotten himself into, and that, somehow, this would be the marriage that everyone survived.
Characters: Tana, Kellom
Warnings: Tana, arranged/forced marriage.
Notes: Because I clearly needed another AU. This one exists because Helena Bonham Carter played Anne Boleyn once. For the purposes of this AU, Feredar is one of the many small German states that existed at this time. The royal family of the City of Glass reigns in the Ottoman Empire, and I've rearranged a few royal marriages to suit the story. Unless I need to squeeze in another of my fictional nations as a direct counterpart (instead of an addition to the map, like Feredar), all other real-world monarchs and political figures will remain the same. Tana is approximately twenty-three here, making Kellom thirty-one. Andrell would be sixteen, and Mera nineteen.
"I don't like him."
"You don't have to," Kellom said, wearily.
"I won't do it," she said, glaring up at him.
"That, you do have to do," he said, as evenly as he could manage. Normally, he was largely amused by his youngest sister's moods and whims, but after the long, long trip to England, he had learned that his patience for her had a limit. At least, now that they were actually here, and she had some concept of the world she would be living in, her complaints had the benefit of novelty, and some specificity. But, still, novelty could only do so much. Ever since their departure from Feredar, Tana had done nothing but sulk, and whine, and throw her damned tantrums.
And, once, she'd threatened to set the boat on fire. Thank God she hadn't actually followed through.
"You can't make me."
He counted to ten in his head. Twice. "I'm sorry, but it's settled now. We're here. You will be going through with this. And, yes, I will drag you to the altar by force if I have to."
She stared at him, and then her lips quivered.
God. "Don't cry," he said. "I love you, Tana, you know I do, but we are who we are. Our duty must always come first."
She scowled at him through her tears, but, for the moment, kept silent.
"Do you think Andrell and Mera are any happier than you are?" he tried. God knew she didn't get along with either of them; maybe he could get her to behave by defining good behavior as a way to showing up her brother and niece. "At least you don't have to go crawling back to Rome."
"At least Andrell is able to stay home, and have his wife come to him," Tana said. "And at least Mera's husband doesn't smell."
He sighed. "No one is asking you to like the King, Tana. Just marry him."
Her face was all thunderclouds. "I still don't see why it had to be me. Father has an eligible grandson. The King of England has a daughter of age."
"A bastard, and unsuitable," he said. Among other reasons.
She scoffed. "Fine, then. I shall plug my nose and be the best-behaved little brood mare the King could possibly wish."
"Don't be vulgar."
"I'll be as vulgar as I please," she snapped back.
"No, you won't," he said. "Tana, we are not in Feredar anymore. The people here are not going to be accustomed to your moods."
"Then I shall simply have to accustom them," she said, impressively even, for her.
"No, you won't," he repeated. "Tana...please, behave yourself here."
"Or what?" she said. "He'll cast me aside like the others?"
He winced--and that, in fairness, was part of why he'd had so much trouble containing her on this trip. He understood what his father was doing, he even admired it. If Father could pull it off, this web of alliance he was trying to weave, then the world would be an infinitely better place.
Of course, sending the incredibly volatile Princess Tana to marry a king who had banished one wife and killed the second was asking for trouble. And he'd said as much to his father. He'd practically begged for Mera and Tana to switch places. If all that mattered was the alliance, they were equally suitable on the surface.
But, as with all of his children, Father was apparently blind to Tana's faults. Besides, it had apparently fallen to the King of England to choose his bride first and he'd found Tana prettier than their niece. God save them all.
"Please don't give him a reason," Kellom said instead. Anything else would only encourage her.
For a moment, she was silent. "I don't want to be a stepmother," she complained.
"Treat the children as the King does, and you'll be fine," he said, relieved. That was somewhat safer ground.
Something sparked in her eyes, and for a moment he was worried again. But, with a theatrical sigh, she dropped her head and said, "There really is no way out for me, is there."
"Think of what this will accomplish," he said, as encouragingly as he could manage. If she actually was giving in, he could afford to be magnanimous. Anything to make her continue on that path.
"I know, I know," she said, and sighed again. "But you'll save me, if he's cruel?"
"Behave yourself, and he won't be," Kellom evaded. "You are beautiful and intelligent and charming. Just keep a strong hold on your temper, and you may even do well here."
"You think so?" she said, tilting her head.
"Yes," he said. Or, at least, he prayed for it.
With a third and final sigh, she nodded. "Very well. I'll do it."
Finally. He smiled at her, and kissed her hand. "There's my sweet sister."
She flushed, and smiled back.
The disaster defused, Kellom hoped his sister's good behavior held, and she didn't revert to the way she'd been at home.
And he prayed, with all his might, that the King of England knew what he'd gotten himself into, and that, somehow, this would be the marriage that everyone survived.