RP:In Fighting In Laws

Summary: Before the royal wedding, Josleen's parents and Macon's mom stay at the fort. Bacon mom hates Josleen. Jos dad hates Macon. Dinner is ruined.

Josleen wanted Macon to know her parents before they wed, and what better way to do that than with an extended visit. And so, with some convincing, she managed to get Macon to agree to pick up her parents from Xalious on their way back from the funeral in Frostmaw. Her parents have now been guests of the fort for two days and two nights. The last two dinners went as expected by Josleen, and perhaps not as smoothly as Macon had hoped. Josleen’s father, Kyl’oriel, has been passive aggressively grilling Macon on subjects related to the arcano-natural world, unimpressed when the King doesn’t know certain egghead facts. Macon perhaps had thought that being a King was qualification enough to marry this pedantic elf’s daughter--oh wait, ‘daughter’. Kyl’oriel insists that Josleen, his spitting image, is his adopted daughter, and the bastard child of Jessa, his ‘maid’ who nevers performs a single servant-like duty and seems to have equal-if-not-more authority in the relationship. But sure, ‘his maid’. Josleen has privately pleaded with Macon to go along with this charade, please -- just do it. She apologizes for her father’s rudeness. Still, adopted daughter or otherwise, surely a King is qualification enough? Perhaps for most fathers, but not for Kyl’oriel who a) found his perfect son-in-law in the genius engineer (and hermit) Ezekiel and b) believes all cities should be ruled by a magocracy, like in Xalious. Mages are best fit to lead the land because they have knowledge! Science! He’s Hollow’s version of a technocrat, a magocrat. And thus he is unimpressed by kings of political slickness and physical brawn, and has secretly always been disappointed by Josleen’s carousel of buff men (with a couple notable exceptions, and of those exceptions, only one remarkable: Ezekiel, who is also a twig). Jessa, Josleen’s mother, is much more agreeable, and perhaps excessively so. She’s always civil, always poised, talented in carrying on a conversation about anything. Indeed, it’s clear much of Josleen’s charm came from Jessa, and like with Josleen’s charm, it’s difficult to parse the genuine from the false. A good thing too, for in truth Jessa is suspicious of Macon, though she does give him a chance. She can tell her daughter is taken with him, and soon to be a queen! Of course she is happy for Josleen, but something about Macon unsettles her motherly instincts though she can’t quite put a finger on it (the evil?). Nonetheless, she smooths over her ‘totally not husband’s’ grumpier moments and steers the conversation skillfully to calmer waters. On the third day, Macon’s mother, whom he has so far only referred to as ‘mother’, is due to arrive. The elderly woman planned on making a one-way trip, and Josleen, eager to please her mother-in-law and to seem generous, responded to the -permanent- move with enthusiasm. Macon’s mother arrived shortly after lunch and only met Josleen briefly. After such a long journey, mother needed rest, a bath, and perhaps a little alone time with her son whom she hasn’t seen for far too long. It was Jessa who suggested the night before, at dinner, that a change of scenery may be nice. Dinner and the theater? Jessa is also a bard, albeit of less fancy schooling. The resemblance between Josleen and Jessa in personality is quite striking at times. They laugh the same, make similar jokes, enjoy word games, and at times seem to communicate silently. Evening of, Josleen dressed to impress Macon’s mother in an elegant, long gown. During the carriage ride Jessa asks polite questions about mother’s sea voyage (How was the food? Was it very long? And the sailors? Any other passengers?) and Veratoak (What’s the food like? What’s the main industry?) and the Jauzon family (Any other children?). Josleen chimes in here and there. Kyl’oriel looks out the window disinterestedly, perhaps solving a math problem in his head. At the restaurant, the royal guests are invited to a semi-private dining area. Still, they can see some other patrons, and vice versa. Josleen sits near Macon at the head of the table, mother across from her, Jessa to her side, and Kyl’oriel across from Jessa. Kyl’oriel asks, “What’s the education system like in Veratoak?” His tone is too pointed to be anything but a dig at Macon for failing his little tests.

Macon was warned, only after he agreed to swing by and load Kyl’oriel and Jessa into their traveling party, and not long before picking them up, that the father may be a tough nut to crack. For the most part, at Josleen’s behest, Macon manages to hold his tongue and take the underhanded abuse over things like his lack of technical magical knowledge, merely growling here and there. However when Larket itself and their way of doing things is the target of the digs, his fury boils up inside him and he can't help but fire back with little attacks on the magocracy and the like. Most notably he says something to the effect of ‘Those guys at the tower couldn't even find those missing mages on their own.’ That was on the second night, and is as heated as things got before the arrival of Macon’s mother, whose name we learn now is Augusta. Josleen and Jessa working in tandem, it seems, to keep things civil between their stubborn male counterparts, succeed mildly. In the carriage on the way to the restaurant, Augusta describes her voyage dramatically, ‘They insisted we eat these fruits, I've never seen such a thing.’(They were bananas.) ‘And they were, in the middle of a winter like this, they were warm, I don't know how I survived the trip.’ Mother has more complaints about the food, but the fruit was her biggest gripe, while she is answering other questions though, she suddenly remembers certain meals she found particularly disturbing on the ship and adds them abruptly to her vocalized list of culinary slights. You'd think they would have treated her better since she is ‘The mother of a King, honestly.’ Macon nods along in agreement most of the time, knowing full well she is exaggerating wildly and that the voyage was made as posh as possible for his mother. The sailors, unbelievable. She saw one of them spit on the deck once. The few other passengers thought the bananas were weird too, she is sure of it. In an unprompted anecdote she mentions that she's seen a map of Lithrydel and finds the very shape of the continent nonsensical and wonders why there is no navigable coast south of Xalious. ‘Oh Veratoak. Things are worse now than ever.’ Leadership is clueless. She wishes Macon could have become king there instead. The carriage ride is far too short to contain all of Augusta’s complaints and so they spill over into dinner where she finally speaks somewhat fondly of home. She makes so and so Veratoakian dish, with sauce, better than anyone else, and it is her son’s favorite. Speaking of sons, she had another, died in the war, poor dear, many years ago, ‘Terrible.’ Macon frowns deeply, but mother doesn't skip a beat. The Veratoak education system is described by her, likely to Kyl’oriel’s predetermined distaste and eventually the tables are turned towards Josleen. How fortunate for her to have found herself in this position, marrying into royalty. It appears she has been very close to the last two monarchs to emerge in Lithrydel. How convenient. All these things are pointed out by Augusta, without any real query to go along with them. On that note though, ‘What is a Thane anyway? The word sounds barbaric. Wouldn't marrying the enemy queen be more suitable to maintain peace?’ ‘Have you been married before, Josleen dear?’ ‘Children?’ More and more questions like these all come crashing down in waves while a very fancy dinner meant to impress a king and future queen is served around them…

Josleen, brand new to the ways of Augusta, is horrified to hear about her voyage! She gives Macon a confused look, silently asking ‘I thought we paid top rate?’ How strange! The shipping company may soon receive a strongly worded letter from a future queen, lest August tip her hand before Josleen dips her quill. When Augusta reveals she had another son, who died, Josleen shoots Macon a quizzical and concerned look just quick enough to catch his frown. Why hadn’t he told her about this? Her look is sympathetic, not peeved. She’ll ask him about it later. Then Augusta tips her hand, sneering at Josleen’s engagement and title, and prying too pointedly into her past in a manner which screams, ‘We won’t be friends.’ Well, good news for the shipping company: no letter incoming. Josleen laughs, once, Ha!, at the question related to her title. “Oh you’re quite right. It’s a rare title given to people who are well-liked. I’m not surprised you’ve never heard it before.” Jessa fills with pride. She trained her daughter well. She ignores the question of Macon marrying the enemy Queen, but cannot ignore two questions in a row and the next is about her marital history. She flushes a bit, knowing she hasn’t told Macon about her ex-husband, and also that she cannot lie in front of her parents about this. “Once married, no children.” She avoids Macon’s gaze, though she can feel it boring into her. Perhaps it’s just her imagination. Jessa, sensing her daughter’s distress, interjects. “A marriage so brief it hardly counts as a marriage, in my opinion. And Josleen was quite right to move on.” Kyl’oriel grunts in disagreement. Jessa continues, deftly changing the subject, “Augusta, I’m quite curious about that Veratoakan dish you mentioned. What spices does it take? Is the duck boiled?” Kyl’oriel, still thinking of Ezekiel, talks over his wife and says gruffly, to Macon, “Ezekiel is quite brilliant. Did you know he invented the mechanism of rapid-fire trebuchet? The same your own Larketian engineers borrowed and adapted, much more brutishly. It works, granted, but the Larketian design lacks the finesse of Ezekiel’ machine. Josleen helped him build it, as a matter of fact. I’m sure she could explain it to you, though if you have the ability to comprehend it is another matter. Are you familiar with mana-switch kinetic gyros?” He laughs at a joke not yet told. “It would seem the Larketian engineers were not!!” HA! He dabs at his mouth with his napkin then adds, “I am sorry. I am not being fair. The Academy of Larket doesn’t have a fletchomancer of renown in its faculty, and so perhaps it is not the engineers’ fault.”

Macon’s unmentioned brother is matched and perhaps exceeded by Josleen’s unmentioned husband, and maybe the king and queen-to-be can agree to give each other a freebie here. Augusta appears poised to ask if Ezekiel was very rich as well, the question coiling on her tongue like a venomous serpent, but Jessa saves her daughter with her well placed culinary distraction. You need to use these spices, you see. Maybe they are not featured in Lithrydelian cuisine, she doesn't know, and goodness no! You have to roast the duck for it to be any good. Crispy skin is key. Macon’s latest growl towards Josleen’s father originates so far back in his throat and is so guttural that it almost sounds demonic. Who knew he had yet another type of growl in his repertoire that the bard has yet to hear before. He ignores all the technical mumbo-jumbo meant to befuddle him and points out that his trebuchets functioned just fine in the defense of his city against the kingdom of war. He also smartly points out that maybe the brilliant flectomancer wasn't so bright in designing such complicated siege weapons, that Macon -obviously- could never understand, for a city full of Frost Giants, who, let's face it, are dumb. “I'd take one of my trebuchets, operated by one of my men, flinging Larketian Stone, over one of those contraptions any day.”

Josleen detects Macon’s temper before hearing the growl, much like a seismograph detects an earthquake just before the shake. She places a reassuring hand on the King’s knee under the table and turns her face towards him, gaze lowered in acceptance of this outburst. There are certain things she cannot change about him, and indeed may not want to change about him. This temper, embarrassing as it may be (her father embarrasses her too), is the same temper to which Macon owes his recent successes, and on which her future now rests. Her body language implicitly takes her betrothed’s side. When the moment is over, she sits up smartly, smiles as if nothing just happened, waltzes right past the gorilla in the room, and asks Augusta a subject she assumes is dear to her heart: “I don’t know much of Macon’s brother. What was he like?” With Augusta’s (and hopefully Macon’s) attention on Josleen, Jessa yells at Kyl’oriel through a private glare. He looks back at her, eyes wide with bewilderment, ‘What!’ Jessa tips her head slightly to one side, lips unamused in the exact same way Josleen expresses bemusement, ‘You know what.’

Macon turns what was a slate glare towards Josleen when she makes covert contact with him. His expression softens enough to get him back to a neutral look, an accomplishment for sure against The Rage Knight. He is outside of his armor, half because he really wouldn't wear it to dinner, and half because Percival and the Mage Academy has it and are in the process of removing, and verifying the removal of Thronnel’s strength sapping spell, the culprit of which is still at large and unidentified. The King can't dip his head enough to see the bard’s hand on his knee though, because he does still wear that cumbersome marble crown, and it would surely slip from his head onto the table if he did. At Josleen’s request Augusta briefly describes George as a sweet, innocent boy that wasn't nearly as grumpy as his brother, nor as ambitious. Quickly, she turns the conversation back towards her living son and the continent they are on. “I was so glad when Mackie left the military to come here, but you've all brought him right back into War.” She looks sympathetically towards her son, who flinches at the nickname only she really uses, and accusingly at the future queen. The Fury Knight is quick to interject with the fact that he believed would be true all along, that Josleen was key in bringing about peace as quickly as possible.

Josleen, for all her poise and self-restraint, wrinkles her nose at the nickname ‘Mackie’. Macon is not a ‘Mackie’. She rips into her steak metaphorically and cathartically as Augusta continues taking a stab at Josleen and Lithrydel. The raw steak bleeds across the plate and soaks the rice red, sating the future queen’s momentary bloodlust, as well as her appetite. At least Macon comes to her defense, at least he isn’t a momma’s boy as even the toughest of men can sometimes be, especially men who also happen to be the youngest and the obvious favorite. George, who? Augusta seems to say. Poor George, first born, first killed, first forgotten. Josleen is quickly growing to despise her mother-in-law. With nothing more to say to Augusta, not even a disarming pithy quip, because screw this hag (Macon may feel the future queen’s own fury rise), an awkward silence falls over the table. Jessa comments that the paté is divine. Josleen ignores her, too busy stewing in her hatred of Augusta, brooding and growing angrier by the second. Unable to stand the silence anymore, Kyl’oriel pipes up with the only subject he knows and cares about: The Mage’s Guild and his work. “I should perhaps take a trip to Veratoak soon to see if there is any local flora or fauna there that simply begs to be studied. Do you know anything of botany, madame?” August replies with a sickly sweet smile, “Ah yes, Mackie told me you’re a renowned--what was it? Arcano-naturalist? A talent that perhaps Josleen has running through her veins, hm?” Augusta knows perfectly well that Kyl’oriel denies Josleen’s parentage, he’d already called her his ‘ward’ in the carriage ride over. Only a fool would believe that, and Augusta is no fool. Kyl’oriel, on the other hand, for all his academic smarts, is. He takes the bait. “Oh, well, I certainly hope she has learned a lot of the arcano-natural world through exposure! But through blood… I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I adopted Josleen.” “Ah, right, I forgot she was a bastard too. ha-HA! I’m joking! I only meant that she has no direct inheritance of your reputation and estate either.” Josleen’s chair scrapes loudly against the floor and Josleen tosses her napkin beside her plate and rises. “I must powder my nose.” She leaves the table, heels furiously clicking. Kyl’oriel realizes belatedly that he’s been played and glares at Augusta. “Madame, I sincerely hope, for my daughter’s sake, that all your virtues were spent in raising your son.” He too rises and follows Josleen to console her. Jessa smiles toothlessly, lips pressed together to keep the venom in check, then rises and follows her family, leaving the Jauzons to deal with each other.

Macon is understanding now that the residual effects from overexposure to The Rage Stone that he inherited are not only bad for his Kingsguard, but also not very helpful for the occasion of in-laws meeting for the first time. The Rage Knight can sense his queen’s anger, though it is not enough to fully turn him on his mother just yet. He makes a token attempt to calm her, as she had just calmed him, but he is far too late, the damage is done. When the bard storms off Macon’s initial instinct is to chase after her, but the esteemed guests from Xalious beat him to that punch and he is left to deal with Augusta alone. The other diners that have a view of the celebrity table quickly go back to pretending they are not eavesdropping when Josleen and her parents pass them by. While Macon appreciates that his mother fired on Kyl’oriel where he decidedly could not lest the wedding be called off and the land thrown back into war (dramatic), he cannot and will not show any thanks towards her. Instead he shakes his head and growls out, “Y’shouldn’ ‘ave done tha’.” Mother has been masking her accent expertly while in the presence of the future queen and her family, but in the relative privacy she now enjoys with her son it comes out in full force while she points in the direction the other party members went off to. Augusta hits all the points one would expect in her complaints, ‘She’s been married before!’ ‘Y’deserve -so- much better.’ Kyl’oriel earns a few choice words and Veratoakan insults, while Jessa remains unscathed by her fellow mother. Once she’s finished, Macon preps her for the other family’s return in a tone Josleen has seen him use on Thronnel, Kingsguard, and several fort staffers in the recent past. This shocks the king’s mother, having not been treated like this by Macon before he became the monarch of Larket, enough to render her speechless for a time. It is likely that they will return to a softer, perhaps even apologetic Augusta, rather than the one they left. They are coming back, right?

Jessa and Kyl’oriel return first, the latter looking admonished. Jessa won’t suffer another tense silence. She pretends not to notice Augusta’s peevish look, and immediately talks about the opera they are about to see. It’s based on Lithrydelian history. Elazul. Khasad. Donovan. Kaizer. Solaris. Thus Jessa catches up Augusta pleasantly enough. The conversation provides a cover for Josleen to slip back into her seat without drawing too much attention to herself, as Jessa slyly intended. With Augusta, Jessa, and Kyl’oriel distracted, Josleen holds Macon’s gaze, communicating her distress at how poorly this is going, and how aggrieved she is by Augusta’s treatment of her. But her gaze doesn’t seem to blame him. Quite the opposite, they’re in a bubble together, in disbelief together, of her father and his mother. She sees him as her ally, and they’ll navigate this problem, together, as they navigated the war (which in retrospect seemed easier than this). She places her hand in his on the tabletop for all to see, especially Augusta, though her gaze doesn’t leave his face. She shares a small smile with him then looks towards the conversation. She leaves her hand in the King’s and confirms that Augusta has seen it. He is mine, your Mackie, watch it, weep. She also flashes her mother-in-law a smile, but this one seems fanged. Jessa, take the wheel. After dinner they go to the theater and watch an above average but not spectacular opera (by Josleen’s nosebleed-high standards). By the time they’re in the carriage back to the fort everyone is too sleepy to converse. Josleen leaves for her room to change, as is her habit, but soon joins Macon in his room, dressed for bed in a fancy robe, and freshly bathed and lotioned. Her wet hair is tucked into a braid over one shoulder, the secret to her springy waves in the morning. She lounges on his bed as he prepares for bed, watching him. “Macon,” she calls sweetly. “Why didn’t you tell me about George? Were you close to him?”

Macon is happy to share that that bubble with Josleen at the table and reciprocates her knowing smile with a slight one of his own before they venture off to survive the remainder of the evening together. The play Macon could take or leave, though during the third act he imagines that the collective ‘they’ of the artistic community could write a pretty good one about him fighting the fire sword guy and -winning-. They can leave out the part about the death knighty thing he did on the battlefield though, he also imagines. Having successfully navigated the arduous night, Macon finds out that he is not getting the freebie he thought he was when it came to his untold brother, while preparing for bed. He leaves the side of his desk, which has a bottle of whiskey on it with a handmade label on it of a crummy drawing of a turtle or something, and climbs into bed beside the future queen while contemplating where exactly to start. The memory of George, it quickly becomes apparent while Macon speaks of him, is undeniably tied to the memory of the father, who The King has clammed up about while discussing previously. George was his favorite and it was only after the older brother’s untimely death that focus was put on Macon to follow in his brother’s footsteps. The army, the sheriff’s office, all thrust upon him because George wasn’t there to fill that role. Josleen gets her freebie on the other hand, there is no more talk of Ezekiel tonight, at least not any instigated by the king.

Josleen frowns with Macon’s story. When he clams up, she smooths his side and chest. “So your brother died before your father?” Her frown deepens. “That must have been hard on your parents, both of them, and you. I’m sorry.” Beat. “But you seem to be your mother’s favorite. ‘Mackie’.” She wrinkles her nose again as if tasting something sour. “It is my soon-to-be queenly advice that you should -ban- that word from the realm, and any who defy the ban risk being stoned to death.” She cackles at her dark joke, especially since she’s picturing Augusta being stoned. She’s kidding! Totally kidding. Jokes! Realizing that suggesting that his mother be harmed, even as a joke, is probably in poor taste, she quickly adds with a purr, her body moving against his, “You’re too much man for that.” Nice save. Josleen playbook: Threaten to stone their mother, rub up on them like a cat and flatter, draw even. Having pried enough into his family’s grief, she lets the subject rest, content to enjoy the man shaped by that grief, oblivious to how it may have misshaped him.

Macon is successfully smoothed and his own distaste for the nickname only his mother uses is enough for him to gloss over her idea of stoning Augusta, for the most part. The remainder of the slight is forgotten when she draws the king in by moving against him. Josleen has survived one day dueling Augusta. She is ready to be queen. Three days of this struggle remain until she is. For now, Macon treats her like one.