the earth around your feet | medieval au

[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; color;"]Wreathed in her cloak of red, Queen Agathe Ingrid Ashyver dismounted her horse in a single fluid motion. The stallion would whinny once, tossing his head in displeasure as she gently tugged at his reigns. The girl did her best to steer him back to the stables as quickly as she could, realizing that the sun had just crested the horizon and would soon be cause enough to send her handmaidens barreling into her room in hopes of primping and preparing her for the day to come. He was a stubborn thing though, ears pinning against his skull and a look of wild distaste gleaming in his eyes. It was obvious that he had not wanted to return as quickly as they had. "Acanos," She muttered quietly, giving the reigns a less-than-gentle yank that finally had him cooperating, "I promise we can ride longer tomorrow."

She almost sighed in relief as he placidly passed to his handler, the man eagerly accepting the gold Agathe offered him in exchange for his continued support of her little outings. If anything happened to her, he'd certainly be the first one executed, but the queen was too confident in her own skill (and the sword that hung at her side) to fear for either of their lives. A rare smile was the last thing she extended to him before she hurried back to her quarters, peeling off her riding leathers and cloak and donning her dress just in time for her attendants to burst into her room.

After what felt like hours later, Agathe was deemed 'ready' for the day, silver hair pulled into an extravagant braid and lips painted crimson. Atop her head, a crown seemingly crafted with the gods in mind rested, its silver light illuminating her hair. Casually, she grabbed her beloved sword, fingers wrapping around its hilt as she abandoned her quarters to tend to her own affairs. Fortunately enough, she had no tedious business to attend to today and was free (or as free as a queen in charge of her kingdom could be) to do her own thing. Training was not quite an option so she instead settled for walking through the gardens, sword finding its place in the sheathe strapped to her back. She'd give anything to once be upon the back of Acanos, the wind whipping past her and the whole world at her feet, but this would do. Even if it was strange to see the self-proclaimed warrior queen absently sniffing flowers.

[ATTICUS]

▹▹▹▹ Atticus had known Agathe for some time. While the man was, by all intents and purposes, a knight or a personal guard for the Queen, there was a level of respect that he bestowed upon her, more than for her just being a Queen. He knew as much as he was both a helping hand and a formality, the woman that he was obligated, and admittedly somewhat proud to call his Queen was as capable as any other warrior, albeit with her own set of skills and power at her side none of them would ever gleam. The mornings were quiet, as they usually were, as the handmaidens prepped Agathe for the day, leaving Kit to train, go over papers, or whatever else needed to be done in the few hours that it required. It was the standard routine, before he was subject to being at the Queen's side, so long as she bade, one that he was quite comfortable with. Sure, others might find it dull or boring to repeat the same tasks day after day, but for Kit it was no more than something to occupy his body while allowing him time to think or consider over any issues that had been pressing in the days or weeks prior.

It was only when the sun was fully over the horizon and lingering into the sky that he made his way through the long corridors of the castle, dipping his head idly to a few who gave him the direction in which the Queen had gone; not typically her normal routine, but he had little complaints. So long as she was out of trouble and not halfway across the boundaries of their territory that Kit would have to cross and bring her back before the day's events, all the better. As he stepped foot out into the garden, he folded his hands neatly behind his back and straightened his shoulders, his gaze idly scanning the few faces that paid an idle heed to the Queen wandering her way through the flowers, quietly minding his step as he approached and bowed his head politely. "Queen Agathe," he'd murmur simply, announcing his presence alone as a hand drifted out from behind his back to brush his fingertips idly against a petal. Often, he mused about how much his sister would have loved this place, had she found a place within the royal household staff, but his gaze was quick to return to the Queen, and his posture to straighten as it rid his head of any idle thought. "Any pressing business of today I've not been made aware of?"

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[sybil.]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 55%; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]Sybil detested this kingdom, these walls, these people. She longed - and she prayed every single night - for escape. She wanted to return to her own people, to her mothers and grandmothers, to nights of a thousand stars while traversing the country. She wanted the freedom of her nomadic tribe. She hated being barricaded behind these walls - though, as her people would say, she ought to be thankful.

The soothsayer snorted. Thankful. Not quite. She had been bartered: her tribe offered their best soothsayer for protection. Sybil had been traded like an animal's hide or a few swords. She had begged her tribal elders to rethink this decision, told them the gods would protect their flock, but they told her this was the path the gods had chosen. Why else would it have been offered? And besides, they said, Agathe Ashyver was chosen by the gods. This trade would have more than one benefit.

And so, she played her part. She was on the royal advising committee, tasked with reading the future for the kingdom as a whole. Four weeks. It had been four weeks, and she felt her skin crawl every time the high court demanded to know the outcome of a battle or the results of this or that. This was not her purpose. It couldn't be. She had to be destined for something more... She inhaled, not allowing herself to be worked up. At least there was something alluring about Agathe. She didn't seem to want to be here anymore than Sybil.

Clad in dark purple robes, the soothsayer moved towards the commotion in the garden. Her hood was pulled forward, shielding her eyes from the harsh, new sunlight. Gods, how she wished for the night again. "Again new," she replied, voice cold and heavily accented. "Grow weary of that."

Her eyes cut from Atticus to Agathe and back again. "Hm. You leave him when you go?" She removed the hood from her face. "Unsafe but that's desired." She turned to Atticus. "Closer eye perhaps." Though her speech broken and cryptic, she was alluding to Agathe's horseback riding and how Atticus ought to watch out for the queen a bit more. With a sudden start, she realized she had been sorting through Agathe's thoughts again (which is how she happened upon the information). She hated when she did that.

[agathe.]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; color;"]Sharp, golden eyes would fall upon her personal guard, expression softening only slightly as she beheld her friend and confidant standing before her. Lord Atticus had always been different from the other guards, a strong and steady force but one that also cared about her not just because she was queen, but because they were friends. As dedicated to his duty as he was, he still made every event and meeting she attended a little less stuffy and a lot more bearable. It almost made her feel bad for lying to him about her whereabouts that morning (and so many mornings prior to this one). Almost. "Pressing business? No. A council meeting that I'd rather not attend? Yes, just past noon," She responded easily, dismissing her slightly troubled thoughts to faintly smile at him. It was a rare gesture reserved for very few... very few indeed. Her grandmother had not raised her to smile.

It was the cold and accented voice of Sybil that caused Agathe to turn away from Atticus, an intrigued gleam dancing within those golden eyes as she nodded every so slightly in her direction. The oracle had only been here for four weeks and she could already sense her disliking towards her situation. Agathe, admittedly, couldn't blame her. She had been traded like cattle to come and serve under her, the man in charge of negotiations weaving an entirely different tale to the queen so that she might sign the decree adding Sybil to their council. Sometimes, she regretted it. Well, until the other woman let on that Atticus was not nearly keeping as close an eye on her as she should. It was her training that let her turn smoothly back towards him, expression composed of ice (though there was no denying the faint stain of pink upon her pale cheeks about being exposed so casually), "Perhaps there is something you should know."

Already, she could feel that little bit of freedom escaping her, draining away as if it had never been there in the first place. A shame. A damn shame. Agathe could not find it in herself to be angry with Sybil though, not when she had been so carelessly added to a court that she wanted no part of. In a way, the queen knew that she had brought this upon herself, her unrestrained tendencies from her youth bleeding into her life now. "Before I explain, all I ask of you is to remember that I have held my own several times on the battlefield. I don't need a babysitter."