[SRP] Poison in the Fox's Den

[Strifeling]

Private self-RP of my soquili, Faolchú & Casimir (official wip), brothers

show spoilerhide spoiler

[size=10][color=#91746e]Text[/color]


[align=right]Faolchú Word Count: [/align][/size]

[size=10][color=#564d4d]Text[/color]


[align=right]Casimir Word Count: [/align][/size]

WIP removed in 2023 - slot is valid but I am not comfortable with freely putting my OCs on the internet at the moment

 

[Strifeling]

Faolchú paced outside the chamber, tense. He could hear the murmurs of his brother's low voice drifting past the curtains. The screen doors that had been there, originally set in place on the raised plane of stone by hired racoons and others, had been damaged during the storm the week prior. Insurgents had seized the opportunity to break into his mother's chambers and attack her in her weakened state. Their father had been away, and he and his brother were on duty directing the guards to reinforce the compound. The attack was perfectly planned, but thankfully poorly executed. His mother, Sacrifera, was no stranger to attempts made on her life, and now always wore gleaming golden armor for her protection -- and retribution. Her headpiece in particular was sharpened to a point and strong as tempered steel. It looked decorative, but within moments a well-trained fighter could impale another's heart. Unfortunately, everyone had their weaknesses, and their mother had not escaped unscathed this time.

Faolchú paused in his pacing when he heard Casimir's approaching pawsteps.

Faolchú Word Count: 175

 

[Strifeling]

Casimir gently parted the translucent curtains, walking out of his mother's chamber as quietly as possible, but his elongated claws clicked on the stone floor. They had not brought their rugs and furs with them, and Casimir preferred it this way. There was no need to give would-be assassins a further edge with fur rugs that could muffle their steps, and with the way their luck was going, rugs would be more likely to give any assassins an edge rather than get tangled in their claws.

He nodded towards Faolchú in acknowledgment and greeting upon exiting, waiting for his brother, the younger, to speak.

Casimir Word Count: 104

 

[Strifeling]

"Brother," Faolchú responded to Casimir's gesture, also nodding.

"How is she doing?" Faolchú craned his neck to look towards his mother's chamber, but she was hidden behind the curtains and in a pile of luxurious pillows and blankets. He caught a glimpse of a healer by her side, horn glowing slightly with magical healing power.

Faolchú Word Count: 55

 

[Strifeling]

Casimir exhaled slowly at Faolchú's question, weary, and shook his head. He looked exhausted, with lines beneath his eyes and elsewhere on his face that were not meant to be present on a young adult stallion. His younger brother stared at him in alarm and made a move to walk past the curtains, but Casimir angled himself to block the younger stallion's way.

"Let her rest, Faolchú. If she needs to see you she will call you. Do not worry," he tried to assure his brother, and looked back over his shoulder at the healer.

Casimir Word Count: 95

 

[Strifeling]

Faolchú looked distressed.

"How can I not worry? Father is still away, mother has been getting worse with each passing night, and I haven't heard her voice. She doesn't call for me and you don't allow me to see her," he said, moving again to walk past Casimir, and once again getting blocked by the larger stallion's massive form. He met his brother's eyes again, looking pained.

"I'm not a child anymore, Cas," he said, using his brother's childhood nickname, "I don't know whose sake you're doing this for, but if you stay quiet and turn me away from her, I can only be more unnerved. Are you keeping something from me?"

Faolchú felt a sense shame as soon as these words left him. True, he was not a child, but those words he had just spoken were childish. Even if it was his mother, he should not lose his composure, as the kingly advisor frequently reminded him. And as decorated of a warrior as Faolchú was, his father kept reminding him that he had a lot of growing to do. In front of the banner-stallions and drafted soldiers Faolchú kept up the appearance of unshakable masculine adulthood, but his father and older brother often made him feel like a boy. He was old enough for a wife, but not old enough to be in charge of his own life.

Faolchú Word Count: 229

 

[Strifeling]

Casimir watched his brother's face, and knew what the younger stallion was thinking. Of the two, Faolchú had always been the more sensitive -- the more caring, the more sweet, but also the more impressionable, and therefore in a sense weaker. Faolchú's emotions didn't run amok, but he kept a much looser hold on them than did Casimir. Casimir knew that he himself took after his father: distant, almost cold, and immovable. He wondered, were they born this way, or shaped by their upbringing? For a moment he watched Faolchú. He and his mother had babied Faolchú, coddled him a bit, and kept him sheltered from many of the struggles they had endured in the earlier days of his father's reign. Perhaps it had done more harm than good.

"Faolán," he soothed, using his brother's own nickname, "I understand you care for our mother, but she needs her rest. The healers are doing their best." Dusk was approaching, and already three healers had been to see their mother today, with little result. "She cares about you -- as do I -- and I'm concerned that if she sees you now, she will start to worry again. Give her some peace of mind while she recovers."

He paused, debating whether or not to tell his brother. With the royal dame in peril, he decided to treat Faolchú like the fully grown stallion he was and tell the truth.

"Mother has been poisoned," he added grimly.

Casimir Word Count: 244

 

[Strifeling]

"Poisoned?" Faolchú repeated the word dumbly, almost in disbelief and with his voice low, staring blankly at his older brother. His face was slack but his mind was racing.

For as long as Faolchú could remember, individuals had been trying to destabilize his father's reign, whether by threats, espionage, subterfuge, or direct attacks.The maids of the palace whispered and gossiped, telling a story of how one of the king's children before Faolchú's birth -- Faolchú's older sibling -- had been abducted and used in an attempt to blackmail and coerce the king. They said that in a blaze of fury, the king set out to find the perpetrators and slaughtered them all, leaving a bloodbath in his wake. His sibling was never found. Of course, these were only whispers Faolchú had heard behind his back or when eavesdropping; none of the royal staff dared to speak of this to his face. They were too afraid of his father. Faolchú had asked Casimir about the story, but Casimir refused to speak of the subject, and Faolchú couldn't bring himself to ask their mother. Faolchú wasn't sure if this confirmed the truth of the gossip and was Casimir's way of shielding him, or if Casimir didn't want to bother addressing any of the maids' endless gossip out of the concern that it would only increase. If it were true, Faolchú thought, it would explain why he, his mother, and his other siblings had always been surrounded by guards since the beginning of his memories, an act for their own protection to prevent the past from repeating itself.

Many assassination attempts had been made over the years, primarily at the Queen and King, and nowadays they seemed to be increasing in both frequency and boldness. Barring the most recent attempt on his mother's life, to date no one had succeeded in inflicting more than a scratch or scar, although not all of the would-be assassins were captured; some had been quick or clever enough to evade traps or arrest, and one had even escaped imprisonment. Many had been patriots and many had been ethnic purists, wishing to purge the king regnant and by extension his family. Some of those who had been caught had sacrificed themselves, taking their own lives prior to interrogation. Faolchú thought, some of these attackers had such zeal, such fervor for their cause, that they were willing to offer up their own lives if they failed. He didn't understand what about his parents' reign would drive others to such a point and felt a chill deep in his bones.

The political situation had always been stressful, but due to the large military presence and his family's own power and physical strength, it never seemed that any attempts would succeed. Concubines who sought his father's attention attempted to outclass his mother and usurp her, but none had taken the place of consort. One had delivered beautiful foreign fabrics to his mother as a show of good faith, only for an unfortunate handmaiden to discover that the gift was a trap, laced with poison, his mother escaping death through another curious mare's misfortune. Traitors were sniffed out and annihilated with haste, and treacherous dissenters were destroyed through either covert or overt means. The king had retaliated as a show of power, further increasing security, further displaying his strength, and further protecting his family -- through warrior training and armor. But the audacity of insurgents grew, and for the first time, the queen consort had been successfully targeted. Faolchú realized that he should not be surprised. With the frequency and boldness of attacks against his family, something was bound to happen, but he had always felt he or his brothers would be more likely targets, being the sons of the king, not all fully grown.

"She was actually poisoned? Someone actually got to her?"

Faolchú Word Count: 642

A/N to self for future reference and clarity:

show spoilerhide spoiler

• Father and his offspring are Northeastern-European-based, with Anglo-Saxon, Germanic, Scandinavian, Norse, and Celtic names and influences (names, themes, aesthetics, wolves and ravens, etc.); think Nords from Skyrim and Dwarves from LOTR.
• Mother and the kingdom/court are both Western-European-based, with Roman, French, Gothic influences (names, architecture, themes, current story environment); think Bretons and Imperials from Skyrim, and to a lesser degree Wiedźmin/Witcher environmental influences.
• Some influences are also Slavic or combined, ex. Casimir -- name is from the Polish Kazimierz (Slavic pride!!), but the French/Latin form is used for simplicity due to concerns of most people unfamiliar with Slavic languages not knowing how to pronounce/spell the original form.
• Inspirations for political intrigue, assassination attempts, concubines, kitsune themes, some accessories come from the Korean Netflix series Kingdom (Joseon dynasty), Ookami-heika no Hanayome (Japanese), the C-drama Ashes of Love. Some anachronisms and out of place features exist as a result (ex. concubines, accessories inspired by traditional Japanese fabrics and clothing), with OOC explanations provided where possible (foreign imports, royal gifts from other lands beyond the Kawani). Fantastical accessories are also present. Artistic liberty taken
• There's a plot reason for father being the king (heir to kingdom) but not matching the Roman/French/Gothic theme of the kingdom
  
• Potential plot point: peaceful childhood actually existed somewhere, but Faolchu doesn't remember it (only has memories from adolescent and "preteen" years)
  
• Decide: mithridatism with mom -- by king's order, concubine murder attempt, assassin murder attempt, or well-meaning handmaiden, or ignorant cook following orders?

 

[Strifeling]

Casimir saw the rush of thoughts and memories through Faolchú's mind and regretted telling his brother the truth of their mother's condition. Faolchú had always been naive and unsuspecting, whereas Casimir was always cautious and guarded. Casimir expected danger around every corner with a calm mind, readied fangs, and steady paws, whereas Faolchú was at times oblivious and blissfully unaware of the metaphorical current beneath the surface of the water. Casimir couldn't count the number of traps his brother had missed by someone's intervention or sheer luck alone. Faolchú remained ignorant of many attempted attacks -- even on his own life! -- and of workings in the palace, let alone the political situation outside, and he didn't even know it. So ignorant was he, that he was ignorant of his ignorance.

Casimir felt a sense of guilt. After all, he was partly or even largely responsible. Even now, he was trying to shelter his younger siblings, especially Faolchú -- they were closer to each other than their other relatives, and Faolchú was their mother's favorite, because where Casimir had a mind for military and conquest Faolchú had preferred diplomacy and soft-pawed, soft-hearted kindness and attempts to keep peace. He was not made to be a king, but his heart was certainly pure. Perhaps that was exactly why he was not suited for kingship.

He ignored his brother's question for a moment, instead carefully scrutinizing the other's face with his cold ice-blue eyes, staying silent. Casimir had taken it upon himself to shield and shelter the others, given that their father did not play much of an active role in their care in terms of physical presence and parenting. After all, Casimir was the oldest, and so he felt that the duty and responsibility was his. But he would not always be present for them, and neither would their parents. He wasn't sure if he could continue to protect them all on his own. And if something happened to Casimir, if he fell in war or to an assassin's poison, it would fall to Faolchú to take care of the others. Instead of being protected by Casimir and their mother, Faolchú would need to protect her and all of their younger brothers and sisters. Faolchú was the second-oldest, the second in line to the throne, but far too innocent. Still far too weak.

Maybe it was time to send Faolchú away for the warrior training that their father had gone through in his youth, something the king had sworn had forged him into the powerful ruler he was today. It was nothing like the formal military training given to the guards or soldiers of the kingdom, in the style of the centurions of their land, which Faolchú had already experienced. Faolchú had plenty of war decorations as it was and projected a princely image, but that was mainly under Casimir's and the king's direction and with the support of loyal soldiers within the limits of their own kingdom. Even out in battle, Faolchú hadn't witnessed evil. Their father's training had been something else entirely, a feat not intended for kings or princes but for tempering the souls of conquerors hailing from untamed war-tribes.

Casimir had heard of tribes of the north sending both their sons and daughters into the wilderness in their youth, a coming of age tradition for their passage into adulthood while they were still pre-adolescents by the kingdom's standards. There, they learned both battle and survival, not only physical but also mental strength, one individual pitting oneself against nature and at times even against the others. The harshest conditions in the snowy mountains honed both mind and body. One was constantly at odds against the cold for fear of frostbite or death, against the land itself for lack of food and water and even shelter, and against the wild creatures there -- the beasts were massive, wild bears and wolves lying in wait for prey, driven mad by starvation in the wintertime. Even shapeshifters, known in some lands as skinwalkers, haunted the dark recesses of the mountain range.

Faolchú was far past the age for such training, being a young stallion and not a pre-adolescent, but then, they had the blood of the kingdom, they didn't hail from the northern tribes. And their mother would never agree to it. But now, she was weakened and bedridden, powerless to take care of herself, let alone her son. Everything fell on Casimir's shoulders.

Casimir Word Count: 743

 

[Strifeling]

After the attack, Casimir had moved his mother's quarters and forbidden anyone from entering her chambers without his express permission. In doing so, he maintained secrecy of her condition and uniquely vulnerable position. Such weakness was unheard of in their reign's history, and if word got out while the king was away, there would be a coup d'état. For all of Casimir's assurances to his brother and himself, the queen consort was at the border between life and death. Right now, they could only alleviate her pain and call in unicorn after unicorn to help with healing magic, little by little, but the extent of the damage was beyond their power to truly heal. Casimir had already called for his father and sent out for an herbalist specializing in antitoxins and antidotes, but days had passed without word and their mother was not recovering. Under the cover of night, he had taken it upon himself to track down a poison maker of an assassin guild, hoping to identify the toxins in the queen's body, but it was fruitless.

And any moment he spent away from his mother's side left her vulnerable to a second attack, one that would likely claim her life. He wasn't sure if all the assassins from the other night had been captured, or if some still remained, lying in wait for a second attempt. Casimir was certain: if they knew of the queen's condition they would not hesitate in trying once again. He personally guarded her with every minute he could spare, but with few allies or experienced warriors within the palace at this time, one false step could mean death to his family members and rebellion in the kingdom. Despite the troubles in the kingdom and within the palace, the king had many loyal soldiers and followers -- after all, their family had been heavily guarded for many years. Yet right now, most of them were away on expeditions or conquests with the king.

Casimir knew he was capable, but he was only one individual and paled in strength compared to his father. While he protected his weakened mother, assassins could strike at Faolchú or any of their younger brothers and sisters. A well-coordinated attack by a well-informed enemy could separate them all and have them crippled and killed one by one, leaving a palace empty of royal blood, free for the taking by insurgents while the king and his army were far away, only to come home to a palace stained with cruor.

Casimir hesitated, fighting a mental war. He wished in his heart that Faolchú could live in a world that would accommodate his innocence, that he would never need to change, but at the same time he was a realist. The sooner Faolchú grew and became suited to handling political cunning and military might, the better -- the safer he would be and the more power he would have to protect others -- but that would require him to face the reality of the outside world and overcome both physical and mental challenges. Faolchú himself complained that Casimir and their mother shielded him too much, not giving him enough room to grow, but what other option did they have in order to protect him and the others? They had both hoped to keep Faolchú blind to the majority of the plots and subterfuge that plagued the family reign, so that he would not have to suffer, and as a result they were directly responsible for Faolchú's weakness as a future ruler. Yet right now, their reign was at a potential turning point and a secret crisis. While Faolchú was innocent and ignorant, he was not stupid, so perhaps it was time to stop keeping secrets from him and prepare him for the future. Their other siblings were less experienced, less trained, and less educated than Faolchú, so as second-born Faolchú should rise to duty. Their father would probably approve of the notion of strengthening another heir for future kingship. Their mother would certainly not recover in time to stop them. But Casimir had spent so, so long safeguarding and sheltering his brother, hoping to avoid exactly that...

Casimir Word Count: 695

(January 2019 2020 oops)

 

[Strifeling]

"The doctors don't think it was just the attack the other night, Faolán," Casimir sighed, committing to tell his brother the entire truth before he changed his mind, "Our home is far more dangerous than you think." Before Faolchú could respond or question him, Casimir cut him off and continued, "The other night, our mother was attacked with a poisoned blade and arrows. Her armor deflected nearly all of the blows -- she was lucky to be wearing it like father wished -- and it wouldn't have been enough to harm her by itself. But our healers say mother has been being slowly poisoned for months, in front of our very eyes. Without any of us knowing! Over time, the poisons she didn't build any immunity against ended up weakening her and damaging her internal organs, and when she was cut, the new poison entered her blood through the wounds. One poison on top of another, interacting with each other, her body was finally overwhelmed, and..." He trailed off, face grim.

Faolchú remained silent, waiting for his brother to continue, and his golden eyes met Casimir's. Casimir kept a still and unmoving face and held on to Faolchú's gaze, but was careful to betray no emotion. His younger brother's eyes burned with internal fire and anger, glowing gold and wolflike.

"She finally met her body's limit and lost her strength. Right now her condition is poor. Our healers have little experience handling this poison, they aren't even sure what toxins have harmed her, so all we can do is protect her and wait while the doctors try to keep her stable and while her own body does what it can. I sent for father and for an herbalist specializing in these sorts of treatments, but there's been no response yet, and that's even assuming no messages have been intercepted." He stopped, choosing his words carefully.

"There's something else, too. Mother has been feeling exhausted and unwell for months." Casimir anticipated Faolchú's next question and answered it preemptively, "The handmaidens didn't think her malaise was out of the ordinary, so they didn't catch the poisoning." He looked away. "...There's a reason for that. I discovered it from the handmaidens when interrogating them on the night of the attack... no one considered mother's weakness out of the ordinary because our mother is expecting children." He left a brief pause, giving Faolchú time to process.

"Or... she had been expecting them. We don't know yet." Casimir finished the thought awkwardly, feeling out of place. He met Faolchú's eyes and left the rest unsaid, leaving his brother to read into the implication left by his words. Faolchú was gullible, but not stupid, and as princes they had extensive education even in medicine, development, and toxicology. They both knew the meaning behind Casimir's vague statement and his use of the past tense. What young foals-to-be could withstand not one, but two or even three poisons that could incapacitate a fully-grown mare, even accounting for how delicate their mother was? Casimir had a reputation for being cold but he had a heart; he didn't want to say it out loud. A midwife had visited earlier in the day, and although it was still too soon to tell she had not detected signs of life. Their would-be younger siblings still in the earlier days of their development most likely wouldn't make it, if they had even survived to the current point already. And in the unlikely event they did survive to term, there was no telling what the unknown poisons had done to their small, fragile bodies, only to be revealed at birth.

Casimir Word Count: 606

(February 2020)

 

[Strifeling]

Faolchú felt the news wash over him like a cold wave and he reeled back in shock. For several long moments all he could do was stare at his older brother. Every part of this was new to him. Casimir already so very rarely let him know of the shadowy workings of the inner palace, but this was a first. He remained silent, mouth opening, wanting to say something, but with no words to speak and his mind racing at dangerous speeds, thought after thought melting into one another. He simultaneously wanted to go and comfort their mother, to punish the black-hearted individuals who had done this, to lash out and unleash his rage and frustration at his own helplessness and impotence at something, anything. Never before had anyone succeeded in the evils that had recently been committed -- that he only just found out about, despite being the second born -- and yet everyone had kept him in the dark.

He felt grief for his mother -- and his unborn siblings! if they had even survived!, anger at Casimir and their father for sheltering him like a child even though he was a fully grown young stallion, and frustration at his own weakness.

He let out a sound of range and anguish, squeezing his eyes shut and striking one massive paw at the stony ground. The pain raced up the nerves of his leg almost immediately, and his foot throbbed, two claws now cracked and bleeding.

"I can't believe this! Why! Why?! Why our mother," he half-growled half-cried, his voice cracking and tears welling in his eyes, looking into his older brother's. "Why her and our unborn brothers or sisters," he asked again, helplessly, letting his head hang down. "It isn't fair. She didn't even do anything. I keep getting the idea that others hate us for some reason! But our mother, our siblings, they didn't even do anything!" He was shouting now, growing louder and angrier with every word.

"Why in the everloving nine hells did they go after someone innocent? It doesn't even make sense! Our a*****e father acts like he doesn't even give a s**t about the rest of us, going away on those unnecessary war campaigns! He should have been here to help protect her! He knows what her body is like! Like hell some armor helps!" he gasped for breath.

"And you! You didn't even trust me with this?! Maybe if I had been here, if I had known and been allowed to watch over our mother and siblings, if you trusted me, instead of treating me like a child all the time, I could have protected her! Or you could have done it yourself! And now, what, one, two, three, four innocent lives could be taken away from us?! If they haven't been already? It doesn't make any sense! And I could have done something!" he raged, directing all his anger, his hate, his grief and frustration, and his shame at himself toward Casimir.

Faolchú Word Count: 501

 

[Strifeling]

"Control your temper, little brother," Casimir snapped back at Faolchú in a deep, thundering baritone, and again Faolchú felt a chill run down his spine while his older brother stared him down with cold and narrow eyes. They shone with an eerie blue glow in the dim light, two points of frigid winter ice. The younger brother struggled to meet the older stallion's gaze.

Casimir's voice alone was fit for an emperor's. It was both imposing and commanding, and any orders he gave seemed to have an oppressive weight. Without any conscious attempt on his part, Casimir's speech carried the air of a threat.

No one would dare act openly against him. His aura and demeanor, coupled with his eyes that pierced deep into one's mind and soul, sowed dread in the hearts of others even as he was cold and calm. Anyone who would have the misfortune of being on the receiving end of Casimir's anger would know true fear.

"Control your words! And for lord's sake, lower your voice," Casimir continued, starting to soften his speech.

Casimir Word Count: 178

Posted November 30th at 10:53pm Mountain Time -- November stats

 

[Strifeling]

Immediately, Faolchú felt another pang of shame.

"But--!" he tried to interject angrily, but then fell silent and sharply whipped his head away, hair flying, so that he wasn't looking at Casimir's face. He could feel his brother's eyes boring holes into him. That icy gaze almost seemed to burn.

In all honesty, he doubted Casimir was responsible. In his heart, Faolchú knew his older brother couldn't be blamed for the attack. Faolchú also knew in his heart that he, himself, might not have been able to do anything even if he had been nearby at the time. His words had been empty, said only out of fury and frustration.

He kept his eyes low and said nothing as mentally his shame and anger both clashed with one another.

Faolchú Word Count: 113

Posted Nov 30th Mountain Time but not for stats

 

[Strifeling]

"Do you think you're all-powerful, little brother?" Casimir went on. He continued to stare steadily at his younger brother through the darkness. In the brief pause he left, his brother said nothing.

"Faolán, I know you care about our mother -- our family -- as much as I do." He saw Faolchú glance up through his bangs, about to say something, and in response Casimir hardened his voice and brought pressure into his speech, not allowing the younger brother to get a word in.

"I know your heart is moved just as much as mine. I feel the same devastation as you do. No matter how it may seem to you on the outside, no matter how I hold myself together, I endure the same pain." He paused again, however briefly. "I agree with you. It isn't fair, that tragedy often befalls those who deserve it least. But little brother, you have so much to learn, you can't even begin to see it. Do you think you would have been able to do anything, even if you had known? Do you think I didn't try to protect them?" An edge crept into Casimir's voice.

"But that isn't even the biggest problem here."

Casimir Word Count: 202

(November 30th 11:40pm Mountain Time)