obligation [p]

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[atrb=border,0,true] "tell me, what manner of lord is this arroway? has he bannermen? could we call upon his aid in times of war?" rays of early morning sunshine cast themselves across highmoon throne, illuminating the jarl who sat upon it. sevrend was lethargic, burdened by a lack of sleep. the dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to grow deeper with each passing night. "tell me, my keeper, what manner of jarl does not know such things?" the housecarl quipped, a toothy smile spreading across his chin. both the lord and his servant laughed heartily, but sevrend could not help but slump more languidly in his seat. this was his predicament. how was he to extend hospitality onto the arroway's when morthal was without the hospitality they'd covet? they were warriors, not nobles. the arroways would find no sugared words or false pretenses in hjaalmarch, no arbitrary distinction between ruler and peasant. only visceral spirit and harsh banter would greet them. sevrend wouldn't have it any other way, but it would make wooing an illustrious and haughty family of solitude into his fold all the more difficult. more pressingly upon the jarl's mind, however, was the question of merit. would such an arrangement even be worth it? if the young lady violet chose to take one of his court for her own, would her father's legions fight fiercly enough to be worth poisoning his keep with the presence of a listless, aristocratic woman? "i could not say, my jarl. news from solitude has been scarce since the high king was dethroned." the housecarl continued, finally answering his lord's question. ulfric. the stormcloaks. the empire. the arroways. so many petty and meaningless things. so many distractions. to think that all this insular small mindedness pervaded even as wyrms scorched the earth. it was enough to make sevrend sick. the resounding clang of wood upon metal rang out through morthal, cutting the jarl's pondering short. the gatebells had been struck - horses approached from the marshland. rising swiftly from his throne, sevrend was to depart his keep to greet his his guests when a sudden realisation struck him, rooting him on the spot. "handmaidens..." he spat abruptly, partly a curse upon his own lack of foresight and partly an absent inquiry, confusion staining his tone. what manner of woman was a handmaiden? where could he find them? it had been so long since the women of highmoon hall had required them, so long since they had been tender-boned and meek. "fetch the seamstresses' daughters." he bid the housecarl gruffly. with a bow the boy was gone. marching swiftly past the blackened fire pit - doused during the daylight hours but to roar again come nightfall - that sat foremost within his throne room, sevrend pushed fiercely upon the heavy wooden doors of his keep. they yielded spectacularly, crashing at his sides with the authority of conquest, shaking the walls the rush of light - and the prospect of treating with nobles - momentarily blinded sevrend. venturing from highmoon hall, the jarl wondered what veiled agendas and arrogant pomp the arroway's had in store for him.

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[VIOLET OF ARROWAY .]

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another city, another jarl and gaggle of thanes to parade in front of. it really was becoming a bit dull for violet.

it was early in the morning when violet was informed they were approaching morthal, the city on the edge of marshes. needless to say, violet wasn't expecting anything spectacular. and her assumptions were proved true. her first glance at the city in the distance proved it was just like any other city.

her mood wasn't helped any by the fact her mother kept prattling on about violet needing to show more enthusiasm towards prospective suitors. so far, they'd met a total of zero candidates violet would even consider marrying. that was officially, anyway. her hand reached towards one of the saddlebags on her steeds back, smiling when she felt the crumple of paper under the pressure of her hand. but that was her little secret, and no one would know of that. violet wasn't even sure if anything would become of it. probably not, if her luck was anything to go by.

heaving a sigh, violet dismounted her horse. nymeria snorted gently as violet took her reins. she felt a gaze on her back, knowing her guards were n doubt wondering what the young lady was up to now. violet had caused them to age early, her father had always said. a gray hair for every time she ran away. the memory made her smile, but she still felt the need to reassure her guard that she was not concocting any plans to flee. "i need to stretch my legs. i do not want to stumble before the jarl." she explained, though what she was really doing was stalling. she didn't want to be here. violet was sick of this entire plan.

but she couldn't stall forever. they entered the city finally, the residents staring openly as they walked passed. in preparation for meeting the jarl, violet had donned a dark green gown, her hair pulled back from her face in a loose braid. and her guards with their strange armour.. how odd they must look in their finery. violet tried to smile, but when she got none in return, she kept her eyes forward, her mother now by her side, whispering instructions in her ear. stand straight, shoulders back, be graceful, speak politely.. it was the same in every city. violet knew it off by heart by now.

and then finally, they were in front of highmoon hall, a man who could only be the jarl standing outside. as instructed, violet stood still until the guard who doubled as their herald stood forward to announce their arrival.

"presenting the lady arroway."

ever the perfect noblewoman, violet's mother stepped forward and curtsied. although the arroways were a powerful family, in social standing, they were below the jarl. violet had been reminded countless times not to forget that.

"and her daughter, lady violet."

her eyes never leaving the jarl, violet followed suit, curtsying low. "greetings, jarl sevrend ire. we thank you for your hospitality, my lord." she spoke loud and clear, knowing her mother would find some fault with it somewhere. and if not in her greeting, her curtsy, or her stare. it seemed nothing violet did was correct, and although violet knew her mother just wanted her to make the best match possible, it was becoming tiresome.

SEVREND/RIG | 559 | angsty violet is angsty. hope this is okay?

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688 words | private - violet of arroway |

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how perfectly revolting.

sevrend grinned. perhaps the lady arroway would think it a polite gesture, but in truth, it was disgusted amusement that brought the curl to his lips. to look upon this woman - who was allegedly noble, allegedly from power and prestige - and see her bow. sevrend demanded such theatrical gestures not even from his own subjects, let alone from those who he had proven nothing too.

young violet was different.

she followed her mother’s example, but with none of the enthusiasm of the elder. she was technically perfect - prim, proper and graceful - but without the zeal which suggests passion for an undertaking. in a detached way, she reminded sevrend of well trained swordsmen who did not believe in the cause they fought for. her form and swordplay were immaculate, but she lacked the bestial vigour that makes a truly ferocious warrior.

were she one of his guardsmen, sevrend would be concerned. however, in this context, sevrend found her hesitance immediately endearing.

”-and morthal thanks you for your presence, young arroway. i pray your journey through hjaalmarch was without incident?” the words themselves went according to script, but the look he gave the girl hinted at so much more. there was mischief upon his eyes, a sly suggestion that the jarl was also merely playing the game for her mother’s benefit.

at that moment the housecarl returned, the two daughters of the seamstress in toe.
”ah, your handmaidens have arrived-” sevrend paused, choosing his words carefully, constructing both polite request and irrevocable command at once.
”-lady arroway, perhaps these ladies would accompany you to your quarters? i’m sure you are weary from travel and hope that you find your lodgings satisfactory. if it pleases you, i will treat with violet for a spell, so i might induct her in the traditions and manner of morthal.”

no such induction would transpire, not really. sevrend wished only to separate the lamb from her mother so he might investigate that hesitance he’d sensed upon her fully. if the jarl was to accept this woman into his court, her character would need to be judged.

curtsying gracefully - truly, truly revolting - the elder arroway took her leave with the makeshift handmaidens, who fawned and fussed in a manner unbefitting of morthal women. as sevrend watched her leave he noticed her fix her daughter with a fleeting, pointed look. it was a stare that said, as clearly as if she had spoken aloud, do not fail.

such pressure to place upon someone so young, someone who perhaps did not even know herself.

sevrend turned on the spot and - clasping his hands behind his back - walked towards his throne, knowing her noble rearing bid violet to follow.
”if you wish to stir the hearts of morthal men you must - immediately and absolutely - abandon all that your upbringing has taught you of court etiquette.” with her mother absent, sevrend spoke to violet with an earthy honesty that had not been present for the lady of arroway. all at once he was the warlord he truly was instead of the diplomat he’d pretended to be.
”your pretence of nobility will earn you only the scorn of my bannermen. they would look upon you as fragile enough to be broken by a stiff breeze.”

true though those words were - violet’s obvious beauty would be far from enough to woo his countrymen - they were intended more as a challenge than an education. sevrend was curious to see if the girl could rise above her indoctrination and speak with heat, with passion.

”be ruthless. surrender to them no quarter of politeness or understanding. be merciless in your scrutiny. they will be drawn to your onslaught like soldiers to the battle front. women of hjaalmarch breathe fire, not platitudes.” sevrend concluded as he reached his throne and cast himself down within it, fixing violet with an intrigued gaze.

”in that spirit, tell me - frankly, honestly and without ceremony - of yourself. who is this violet i am to welcome into my court?”

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[VIOLET OF ARROWAY .]

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"we came across no incident, my lord. your lands are very fair." another rehearsed speech, with another respectful bow of the head. the courtesies over and done with, violet's eyes rose to look at the man she had been speaking to, a curious expression on his face. she wanted to question it, but with her mother present, there was no way. so she let it lie, stepping back into line and dropping her gaze hurriedly. she didn't like being scrutinized so.

she looked up as the handmaidens were presented to them, immediately recognizing them as being regular women. and if she noticed such a thing, no doubt her mother would too. violet was grateful however, when the jarl suggested lady arroway retire for a short time, though she was a little apprehensive about being left with the jarl alone. he was an intimidating man, though in a way, she was reminded of her father when she looked at him. jarl sevrend was younger, surely, but something about him, she had no idea what, reminded her of the father she'd left behind in solitude. violet was brought out of her thoughts by a pointed gaze from her mother, and she nodded confidently in return. she would not screw this up.

as the jarl turned, violet fell into step behind him, listening as she took in the splendor of the hall. it was no blue palace, but it had it's own appeal to it. quaint but strong; true nord architecture, even if violet was well aware the jarl was not a nord himself. after she looked around, however, her attention quickly returned to the jarl himself, only just noticing his tone and manner. gone were the niceties, and he was actually giving her information, rather than conducting light conversation to make her at ease. now, violet didn't know what to make of that, or even of the man she followed, so she held her tongue, waiting for him to finish while she committed his speech to memory.

to say she was intrigued was an understatement. all her life, she'd be taught men were drawn to women who could conduct proper conversation, wear dresses well and above all things, be able to defer to men on important topics. while violet was well versed in the former, the latter had always posed a problem. her father had encouraged her to speak her mind, be honest with those around her and fight for that which she believed in. but all that was pushed aside upon searching for a husband. no real man wanted a women who did such things. they wanted poise, elegance, and silence.

so being asked to speak in front of the jarl was a test violet had not been expecting. "i -um.." violet started lamely, doing herself no justice. "i'm the daughter of a thane, who was taught to fight as well as my brothers. if not better than at least one of them." violet spoke evenly, whilst trying to discern what the jarl would want to hear from her. "i also learned to play the lyre and flute at my mother's request, but i still enjoy doing so when i have the time." she began to shrug, before deciding against it. she might have been asked to speak freely, but she was still a lady and had to act accordingly.

"more than anything, i want to travel. i want to see where all those old stories took place, to fight against the wilds, and to experience things before i am forced into marriage." those words came much easier, and violet had no doubts about eventually being married. she just didn't want to be wed just yet. "whether i remain in skyrim, or i venture into the rest of tamriel, i do not know or particularly care. but i do not want to waste my life." with that she fell silent, her eyes looking up to the jarl, trying to gage his reaction. perhaps he'd think it was quaint, the little lady wanting to venture forth into the world instead of hiding behind stone walls. or perhaps he'd find it interesting. violet sincerely hoped it was the latter.

SEVREND/RIG | 689 | exciiiited. sorry for rambles.

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Nov 6, 2012 21:07:08 GMT -8 @rig said:

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[atrb=border, 0, true] 568 words | private - indie

[atrb=border,0,true] “you remind me of a foolish young man i once knew.” the jarl allowed the words to hang in the air, teasing violet with the possibility that the statement was intended as an insult. soon enough his features broke open, revealing his good natured ruse with an approving smile. “myself.” sevrend laughed pensively, his gaze fogging with the golden glow of fond memory. “when i was a youngling, younger even than you, i had no greater ambition than to throw myself headlong into the world. i would have bartered my very soul to clavicus vile had it meant i’d see all that existed beyond the walls of daggerfall. as with yourself, my parents frowned upon my wanderlust.” sevrend paused, images of his father - stern and vicious - swimming through his mind. it was strange to think of his family back in daggerfall. they were so out of place, so decisive. they’d be much more at home within the slopping tundras and swirling fogs of hjaalmarch. sevrend resolved to offer them - again, for the fourth time - a home within his hall next time he wrote. “my parents are mages, enchanters specifically. they intended for me to take over the family business when their time to retire came. once again, much like yourself.” a knowing, jesting gleam came across his face, sharing his cynicism with violet. she knew - far more intimately than he did - that an arranged marriage was little more than an attempt to secure the trickle of gold down through the generations. young violet was little more than a financial consolidation. what a disgusting waste. “when they would not see reason i was forced to confront my father. we fought violently, but he came to recognise the intensity of my desire and permitted my leave. i joined the vigilants of stendarr and never looked back. each day threatened to be my last, each trial conspired to test me in the most unforgiving of ways. by your age i’d slain my first werewolf. that is what first brought me to hjaalmarch... her wild horrors, the opportunity to tame the most unyielding things of the world. it was not her fairness.” the jarl laughed heartily at the thought. even the most parochial of morthal’s patriots could not claim that his lands were fair. for a time sevrend did not speak, considering violet with a thoughtful stare as he slumped deeper into his throne, relaxing into their conversation. he knew not why he revealed so much of himself so freely to the young woman. perhaps looking upon another, fresh faced and zealotborn as he’d once been, ignited a desire to guide her, as keeper carcette had guided him. more likely still was that sevrend simply enjoyed conversation, particularly of the wide world and it’s many bounties. “i understand. you will find your own way, in time. as you do, endeavour to learn how to suffer well. the life of travel you yearn for and the life of ladyship you will eventually have thrust upon you both come with many burdens. if you can master the art of finding joy in those bad times, you’ll be all the better for it.” a warm, enthusiastic grin signalled a sudden change in tone from the jarl, his words reverting into a far more casual form. “tell me, what manner of weapon were you taught to wield?”

[VIOLET OF ARROWAY .]

ALL THAT IS GOLD IS RUSTED

violet's eyebrows furrowed as the jarl mentioned she reminded him of a young man he knew. it took her longer than it should have to realize he was speaking of himself, and even then she wasn't completely sure until he had stated so. she was an intelligent girl, true, but it was hard to believe yet another nobleman had trouble adjusting to their lives.

more understanding came, of course, as the jarl spoke.

the story sounded similar, yet different. different players, different aspirations, yet at the core, it was the same. most surprising was the fact that the jarl before her was not born into nobility. violet recalled being told so, but her travels thus far had blurred together until one thane was no different to the other. names, ages and histories ran together until violet couldn't remember who was the son of who, and who had simply married into the noble families.

violet felt a blush rise in her cheeks at being called out on her previous lie. the lands of hjaalmarch were not fair, it was true. she was only being polite, a simple courtesy, and the fact that sevrend had cause to bring it up almost mockingly made her angry. but violet held her tongue, willing the redness to leave her cheeks. she was fast becoming aware that jarl sevrend ire was not a fan of courtesies.

she listened keenly to his advice, drinking in every word like the sponge she was. but she was glad to hear it was different from the usual advice she heard. "keep your head down, do as your told" was what violet usually received from her mother, so hearing very different words from the jarl was refreshing, to say the least. "that's good advice, m'lord." violet stated honestly, bowing her head slightly in thanks. "I will be sure to keep it in mind." rather than the robotic response given after her mother's advice, violet meant it. she spent far less time around world-wise men than she would have liked.

the next question caught her off guard yet again. violet had been told not to speak of her combat training to any prospective suitors, and as her mother had reminded her constantly, sevrend was a strong candidate. but he had asked it of her, and violet would not leave the question unanswered. she was proud of her abilities.

"i can swing a sword, but i prefer a bow." the bow was her family's trademark. if you were an arroway who could not use a bow, you were hardly an arroway at all. that was something her mother had taken years to understand. "i've used a bow since i was eight or so. i've even been hunting. with my brothers." mentioning that she'd had her brothers with her seemed wise. although violet was proud of her talents, she tried not to be boastful, and she didn't want to give any false impressions. she was not some wild huntress.

SEVREND/RIG | 495 | sorry about the length! x.x

[rig]

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[atrb=border, 0, true] 640 words | private – violet of arroway

[atrb=border,0,true] “the bow.” sevrend considered. the change in disposition was immediately noticeable. twas not a pensive expression of trying thought or painful pondering that sat upon the jarl’s face. rather, joy overcame him, his zeal for the manners and methods of war as heavy upon his person as the blade fastened to his belt. for when all was said and done, when all pretensions of righteousness and divinely sanctioned cause were put aside, sevrend enjoyed bloodshed. the jarl would never admit as much, not even to himself, but the taste of blood upon his steel stirred the savage impulses at his core. that same blade strapped to his belt always hungered. ”a more worthy art you’ll not find in all of tamriel. tis as much science as instinct, a meeting of body, mind and spirit. i must arrange for you to meet with kassandra lorgenheim before you leave. you will not have seen her when you arrived, but she saw you.” sevrend declared with absolute confidence as he gestured towards the east, back the way violet had come. ”she is one of our rangers. she patrols the marshlands just beyond morthal. as silent as she is deadly and perhaps the most skilled archer in all of skyrim. she will be happy to tutor you in all matters of bowmanship.” sevrend grinned widely and rose to his feet, approaching violet slowly. ”alas, in spite of all that archery offers you, it is insufficient. sometimes your foes will draw near to you and i would feel negligent if i allowed you to explore all that tamriel has to offer – to see the places where all the old battles were fought – without a firm understanding of swordplay.” steel shrieked and in but a moment sevrend had drawn his blade, allowing it to lay lax and harmless at his side. nodding to a guard a few short yards away, sevrend spoke. ”grimmir, arm lady arroway.” the words were met with murmurs and – as grimmir drew his blade and approached, thrusting it into violet’s hand - a loud cheer of merriment from the guards. ”rip his fucking head off, violet!” came a shout from one. it was followed by a chorus of boisterous laughter as sevrend wheeled towards the insult – face jovial and good natured – and thrust the tip of his blade towards the offending guard. ”have that man beheaded!” he retorted sarcasticly and more laughter followed as he turned back towards violet, stance approachable once more. perhaps now violet would learn that mockery was the highest form of flattery in hjaalmarch. it proved that you were part of the family. ”the first principle you must grasp-“ sevrend began ”- is that a sword is, when utilised correctly, a defensive implement first and foremost. with well trained footwork and spacing, it surpasses even a shield as a means of protection, for unlike a shield, a blade allows you to redirect the momentum of an opponent’s movement.” the words were scholarly and hardened by the authority of experience, but also inviting. it was in these moments that people truly learned about one another and the prospect of measuring the strength of violet’s spirit intrigued sevrend greatly. ”that is of the upmost importance. your opponents positioning, as well as being able to control it, is of even greater importance than your own positioning when in combat-“ sevrend shot a glance towards the staircase, willing the elder lady arroway to descend those steps and see what they were doing. it would give sevrend such joy for the conservative noble to see her daughter in this way. not only that, but to see her daughter in this way while she was powerless to intervene and alter the way sevrend chose to conduct his hall. such a liberating moment for young violet that could be. ”-to demonstrate, charge and attempt to strike me.”

[VIOLET OF ARROWAY .]

ALL THAT IS GOLD IS RUSTED

violet nodded as sevrend repeated that violet used a bow, though the jarl had not phrased it as a question. he seemed to find some enjoyment in what she had told him, though whether he found it amusing, or was pleased to hear violet confirm she was learned with a bow, was unknown to her. unsure what to say or do, she stood silently, her eyes trained on her elder.

what he told her of kassandra lorgenhem made violet's eyes widen. no, she had not seen any sign of wanderers as they entered hjallmarch, and truthfully, the idea of receiving training from a woman from morthal.. scared violet. if what jarl sevrend had told her was true, and violet had no reason to believe he was lying to her, the women of hjaalmarch were as handy with weapons as their husbands and sons. but under the fear, violet also felt anxious. anxious to run through the wilds, and hunt with this kassandra. it had been some time since she'd had true tutelage when it came to archery. the only problem was being able to get away from her mother.

"i would be honored to train with kassandra lorgenheim." violet bowed her head in thanks, barely able to keep the smile off her face. the jarl had managed to separate violet from her mother for this meeting. there was no doubt in violet's mind that he would be able to occupy his mother for a day while violet was able to run free.

she listened as sevrend continued to speak, her eyes widening at his words, and her mouth opening lamely when sevrend drew his sword, alerting her to his intentions to spar with her. what shocked her more was that he intended to arm her with a true sword, rather than the practice swords violet had spent her childhood using to fight her brothers.

as if possessed, violet took the sword from the guard without question, her cheeks reddening at the outbursts from the crowd. she wanted to protest, to claim the sword was too heavy, but she had gripped it near perfectly, and it felt.. right. her father had always claimed that swords were supposed to be an extension of the arm, as much a part of you as your legs, and even this guard sword felt that way to violet. how long it took to fatigue her once she started swinging it, she had no idea. but she was out of practice, so chances were it would not take long.

once she'd collected herself, violet tuned into the jarl's words again, though her brain was buzzing too much to make much sense of it. yes, she understood, but some part of her couldn't believe this. it must be a dream, being taught swordplay by a jarl. surely she would wake, and her party would be only just arriving in morthal. but no such awakening came, and so as not to be seen as rude, violet nodded, showing she was listening intently to her new tutor.

and then he asked her to strike him.

violet hesitated. quite obviously so, too. she was slow to raise her sword, her throat dry. did they all have to watch her? even with the sword, she felt like some stupid little girl playing at being a warrior. gradually, she adjusted her stance, standing how she'd been taught to. it was then that she finally relaxed.

looking at sevrend, violet could very nearly imagine he was one of her brothers. not a jarl, but iain after he'd managed to get her in trouble for something she'd had no part in. the thought of her brother pained her, but it did not show. vi was focused, judging where to strike without being too aggressive, but also showing she had potential. she knew she could do it, but there was just so much to take into account. and the sword she held was sharp.

finally, she swung, bringing the sword around in a wide arc around to sevrend's left side. using two hands was natural, as the blade was bigger than violet was used to. but they only seemed to add to the power behind it. the blow was easily blockable, but violet felt it was good nonetheless, and even as she swung her lips curved upwards into a small smile, unseen by all except her sparring partner.

SEVREND/RIG | 732 | wooo~ fight tiem.