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[img]http://i.imgur.com/R8LdT8h.gif[/img]
[color=9400D3][b]Location;[/b][/color] Private Chambers
[color=9400D3][b]Interacting With;[/b][/color] A Pointless Tradition[/center]

Rhoslyn had known one king for a portion of her life - and that one had been a poor example of a king and a man. There were times where she found it difficult to hide her resentment behind the carefully selected smiles and turns of the head, but all she could do was soldier on. The Queen had no desires to constantly play maid to the constant disasters brought about by petulance; so long as she was in her position she could hold the reins. Was it not her who turned the pointless affair at the arrival into something that wasn't an unmitigated disaster? Surely. Whenever the petulant ruler was setting fires, it fell to Rhoslyn to bring the bucket of water. But the curious thing about fire is that sooner or later the one playing with it winds up seared. 

With the introductions out of the way, Rhoslyn could confidently say - in confidence - that she had yet to meet a king even after trading words with Maddox. The situation the young Abhainnian was put in upon the arrival of foreigners was not something covered in most lessons at court, and Rhoslyn was not about to give the pointless death any credit or dues, but such acts were the time when a stronger leader would make that apparent. In the brief moments of interaction, Rhoslyn knew that Maddox was many things. Conventionally handsome in a soft sort of way - not unlike Antoine. And that softness carried to his personality. There was a weakness there, in his speech and his actions. She hadn't expected him to rub flint over the pile of sticks that was this peaceful exchange but it weakened his position when all he could think to say was a blind thanks and a dull well-wishing. 

How was it that these kingdoms were still standing when boys were playing at games of men. 

Rhoslyn's eyes rolled at the 'defense' her supposed king mustered in response to her admonishing. No one was embarrassing him other than himself. What he failed to understand, it seemed, was that the crown was not a pass to do as he desired, and that it came with the representation of the kingdom it represented. Such barbarous acts served only to make Slibah seem like savages. But of course, she kept her barbed words to herself, letting her roll of the eye towards the boy-king serve as punctuation; in situations such as these it was preferable to let them think they got the last word. It made them feel good about themselves. 

With the unfortunate introduction out of the way, Rhoslyn was led to a prepared chamber. Smaller than she anticipated, but then she was a guest here so naturally the small comforts of space such as back in her own chambers at home were just well-wishing. She thanked the servant and made sure the scullery maid closed the door on her way out. A moment alone was sorely needed, more these days than before, and she would savor every ounce of it. The room itself was suitable. There was a fireplace with a soft flame dancing along the logs, with lit candles atop a mantle. A mirror gazed back at Rhoslyn and neither of them looked particularly happy to be there. All of this for a wedding. There wasn't this much fuss when she was wed, but then when had gestures of romance been high on the king's list of human tendencies. Rhoslyn supposed it was hard to think of romance when marital fidelity was not something the king concerned himself with. 

Perhaps that would be a page she would tear from the book for her own use. But someone at least should make the attempt. Was it pettiness or realism that had Rhoslyn thinking that Maddox would in time turn to the likes of maidens and whores as well? Julianna might have been pretty enough to be used as a bargaining chip, but there was always someone younger, prettier, and more willing to do whatever was asked of her. 

If only the girls fantasizing about princes and castles and crowns knew the truth of it all. 

Rhoslyn had removed her dress down to her undergarments when a knocking came at the door. Her attention was on the mirror, and her appearance within it, but not to the point of going deaf with vanity. [color=9400D3][b]"Enter."[/b][/color] 

The door swung open and with it the familiar sight of the maid from earlier. "Pardon, milady, I've-" the maid paused and turned around when her eyes processed that Rhoslyn was standing in linens and a close-fitted chemise, which had the indecency of showing more skin than a queen often did. [color=9400D3][b]"Please,"[/b][/color] Rhoslyn turned to the maid with a small trace of disbelief to her otherwise noble tone. [color=9400D3][b]"You're embarrassing yourself. I suspect this won't be the last time you stumble upon someone in a state of undress. Come now, why are you here?"[/b][/color]

Rhoslyn cared little that a maid was in the room, nor did she think the maid should be so surprised. She must've been new to the position, perhaps chosen specifically for the foreign guests. "Apologies," a nervous bow of the head as the maid set a box on the edge of the bed, nervous fingers opening it for approval. 

[color=9400D3][b]"What's this?"[/b][/color] Rhoslyn crossed the room towards the box, taking the contents in hand. It was a curious thing, a mask of dark purple with frills along the edge. It was finely made, she supposed, but its purpose eluded her. 

"I-It's a mask, milady. For the ball tonight." 

Rhoslyn placed the silly thing back in the box while keeping her eyes on the maid and her awkward, nervous gestures. This servant was not used to this. Or perhaps Rhoslyn inspired fear, as if the events earlier reached the ears of the help who no assumed Rhoslyn took after certain sorts. "Milady?" The maid stammered. 

[color=9400D3][b]"What's the point in a mask? More childish antics I assume. Something that covers my eyes won't make a difference. The voice. The dress. The damned hair. Masquerades are a frivolity for bored lords and ladies who are too rigid to admit they want to fuck other people. I won't be wearing one. However, you can stay and assist me in dressing for this ball. What's your name?"[/b][/color] 

The maid didn't respond right away. She was still trying to understand Rhoslyn's position when it came to masks or the lack of them. It was only after Rhoslyn asked a second time that the maid focused on the more pressing matter. "Romilly, milady." Romilly had a long way to go when it came to being a maid, let alone a handmaiden, but Rhoslyn felt a little bit of pity for the dirty blonde. She was trying, and that had to account for something. 

[color=9400D3][b]"Romilly. Be a dear and fetch my purple gown, then do be kind as to help me out of this confining chemise. And while you're doing that, do tell me how they treat you here. I'm just dying to know whatever it is you're willing to share."[/b][/color] 

Perhaps this excursion would not be all bad. Maids were notorious gossips after all. 

~~~~

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[img]http://i.imgur.com/gj2vNZx.gif[/img]
[color=9400D3][b]Location;[/b][/color] The Ballroom. Fashionably Late.
[color=9400D3][b]Interacting With;[/b][/color] Masked Buffoonery[/center]

No one had to guess as to who Rhoslyn was as her arrival came with a lack of concern for the theme of the night. The Queen of Slibah showed up without a mask covering her face and a smirk as she passed guests who had been wearing them. She could only imagine the thoughts and glances of surprise as she effectively slapped the notion of formality across the face. She didn't so much as speak to anyone upon her entrance, nor was she locked in arms with the king or any present noble sort. She strode with confidence across the floor, stopping only when she arrived to where wine was being served. A glass was handed to her and she accepted with a grin before turning to observe the moronic masquerade. 

Let them talk. Let them indulge their frivolity. And let any who took issue voice them to her specifically. Of course she knew they wouldn't. If there was one thing lords, ladies, nobles, and knights did it was keep their thoughts to themselves. 

They were all cowardly that way.