"And the talk of alliance?" Oliver asked. "For a woman that did no saving, you certainly made so grand speeches."
"I did not jest there," Asabel said. "It would honour if you would at the very least consider a friendship between our two houses."
"Why?" Oliver said, looking her full in the eye as he asked it. "I sincerely don't understand, Asabel. Your position must already be difficult enough without saying you're friends with a Patrick. Why go so far?"
"For my own benefit," Asabel said, holding his gaze. "Oliver, you're still incredibly young. Politically, this is the weakest that the country will see you, and yet, you've already proved your battlefield strength over and over. I'm in agreent with Minister Hod – that this is a martial country. To do anything of importance, one needs martial might."
"That would only make sense, Princess, if you had sothing of such import," Oliver said.
"Oh, but I do," Asabel assured him. "Co, do not rely stand in the middle of the room. Have a seat. Duncan, if you would see that so tea and afternoon snacks are prepared."
"As you wish, my Lady," the attendant Kevin said, performing a crisp bow as he went, closing the door after him.
Oliver noticed that there were remarkably fewer guards within that room. Fewer than last ti at least, for there was still a handful, amongst them Lancelot himself. Oliver wondered the reasoning behind that. Was it really that he'd won such trust, despite having not spoken to the Princess once since their last eting, or was it more that she was so overworked, given her current position?
"How goes it?" Verdant asked as he settled himself. He didn't need to clarify what he was referring to. That was only one thing that was on their minds – Asabel's Quarter Inheritance. Oliver hardly knew what such a thing truly ant in actuality, despite the many explanations he'd been given.
To take a Quarter of all of the Pendragon territories and to declare independence within them, that had to be an awful lot of work, didn't it?
"If you would forgive for being terribly honest," Asabel said, "I feel I'm a few loose strands of straw away from folding in half. If not for your father, Verdant, this would have been impossible. He's a miracle worker. From the way he's taken charge, one would have thought that he'd been preparing his whole life for this eventuality, as though he'd predicted it."
She said it with a smile, but Verdant didn't smile back. He rely nodded, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I fear that man likely did see it coming," he said lightly. There was a touch of ominousness to his words that made Asabel's eyebrows furrow. "He's a far more dangerous man than he's given credit for."
"I do not doubt it," Lancelot put in. "I sensed it even as a child. A terrifying individual, is Lord Farley Idris. If only you had adopted so of your father's traits, Verdant, perhaps you would have been more useful to your new Lord."
Verdant smiled mutely in response to Lancelot's jab. "Very good, Swiftrider. From the blackness of your eyes, it would seem that you are overworked too. Usually, your remarks would be a little more creative."
"I don't… do I?" Lancelot reached up to feel under his eyes. Asabel looked at him worriedly.
"I told you that you needn't waste sleep on any of it, Lancelot," Asabel scolded. "It's far more important to have you well-rested, so we can respond to anything new that might co up."
"Of course, my Lady... It seems I overestimated myself," Lancelot conceded. "It will be done on the morrow, fear not."
"Hm? You're up to sothing tomorrow as well?" Oliver asked. "Anything that a humble Patrick can know?"
"Nothing but the most laborious of paperwork, lowly one," Lancelot told him, "the masses need informing of their new Queen, even if they cannot read the words written to them."
"Queen?" Oliver asked.
"Obviously," Lancelot said, rolling his eyes. "She's inheriting from her father, Silver King Pendragon. You did not think that she would remain a Princess, did you?"
"I honestly had no idea what to think," Oliver said. "This is all rather new to ."
"It's new to most nobles as well," Asabel said with a sigh. "It doesn't not happen often enough for people to beco accustod to it, though I suppose we all know the theory… It weighs heavy to realize that I am at the centre of it all."
"So, I should be calling you Queen Asabel now?" Oliver asked. "Does that an you're a Silver Queen?"
Sothing about the amused expression on her face told Oliver that she appreciated his ignorance on the matters, at least to so degree.
"Whilst it's true that I may have a right to the title of Queen, I will not be able to act with it outside of the governance of my lands. I will not be invited to the royal etings of Silver Kings, nor will the High King acknowledge my position. The title itself ans very little to . I'm just as happy for people to refer to as a Princess, both now and after my coronation," Asabel said.
"This sounds… complicated," Oliver mused.
"Far more than you'll ever know," Lancelot said with a sigh. "We should have had years more planning for this, if you hadn't gone and got yourself arrested."
"Lancelot!" Asabel said hotly. "I've already made it quite clear to Oliver that it was not his fault. I would ask that you do not undermine that. The only thing stopping from Quarter Inheriting sooner was my own cowardice."
"You say that, my Lady, but as soone who's bearing witness to the reality of what you've gotten yourself into, I can't help but think you're still far too young to bear such a burden," Lancelot said. Impertinent though the retainer was being, it was hard to mistake the evident kindness with which he spoke to his Lady.
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Perhaps that was what allowed Asabel's voice to soften, even if she didn't forget her anger.
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