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King Gildas

"I wish to have grandchildren from you before I die. And who knows how long I have left."

-------Gildas, ruler of Soleria, is a strong, wise and proud king. The kingdom has been in his family for generations and he continues to strengthen it and allow it to prosper. The people were content, happy even under his rule. The past few years however shifted the inevitable fate of the kingdom. Gildas grew ill and was no longer physically fit to fulfill the demands expected of him. He is still king in name and rank, but it his mostly his son Vortigern who carries out his commands. His son's motives and methods of rule are vastly different from Gildas. Gildas is well aware of these differences and does what he can to keep him controlled. He often sends Vortigern out to other kingdoms to extend a peace offering, and build their allies through treaties. He wishes to avoid war as much as possible, though again, Vortigern has different ideas.

-------Then there is of course, Gildas' most common subject of conversation with his son: marriage. Gildas is desperate to see his son married and settled before his time to die comes. Because of that, he tries to do all he can to find a match for Vortigern, however his son is very picky when it comes to his future wife. This does not discourage Gildas, though it does cause a bit of tension between the father and son. All five of Gildas' daughters are married to other princes or kings, and have children of their own, so he wishes the same kind for his son: to start a family.

-------Gildas remains in the castle of Soleria. He is too weak to travel but is constantly surrounded by family, whether it be his daughters and his grandchildren, who visit quite a bit, or other extended family. His health slowly worsens, and he knows that it is only a matter of years before he dies. It is why his desperation to find a queen, and hold a grandchild from his only son, increases. And because of this, it will be the root of practically all conversations between him and Vortigern. Gildas is still a strongly respected king, and his commands are always dutifully carried out by his son. The Solerian people wait in extreme fear when the day comes that Gildas dies and his son takes the throne.

Portrayed By: Rutger Haur

-------Vortigern watched her very intently. Every move she said and every word she spoke made him find her more and more desirable. Yet, he somehow miraculously held restraint. Enough to keep himself from simply grabbing her and allowing one thing to lead to another. He was impatience, yet wanted to drag out the moment. It was a strange contradiction, but if he was indeed 'stealing her virtue' then he would only have one chance to do so. It was getting harder and harder to refrain, with their lips so close. His eyes lingered on her arm when she covered her chest. The fact that she was concealing that area, made him want to see it even more. But as he was teasing with this idea, so was she. His eyes met hers again when she asked her question, the smirk becoming more evident. She had asked him before why he had not smiled, and now it seemed so very hard to stop.

-------When her question finally registered in his mind, he realized something. They had spoken of her virtue at length, though only bits of the conversation could be recalled in his mind right now. But, was it a question of actually taking her virtue? "That depends," he began to say in slight teasing. He inched his way forward, and while the palm of his hands continued to be braced on the way, he gently pressed his body closer to hers. As if to ensure she would not move. "On if it is I who is the actual thief of such a thing." Meaning, if she was a virgin. If he was the one who would actually be the one taking her virtue; or if someone had claimed it before him. It would be not be rare for either way, but Vortigern felt as if he had to know. He was unsure why; perhaps sheer curiosity? Or perhaps because if she was not, it would change the aim of this so called 'game' they were playing. If he was the 'true thief' of her virtue, then it almost made him more... excited to proceed.

-------Yes. She could make him smile, just as she could make him feel other things; desire and passion being the strongest right now. To think that moments ago, he could not stand her and now, he felt he could not stand to be apart from her. But of course, he did not think too hard on it. He did not care to control his actions. Though, he knew he was slipping. For every touch she gave him and every word she spoke filled him with a strong impatience to just be elsewhere so that he could have her. Vortigern was obviously used to getting what he wanted. And right now, he wanted her. Though his desire to kiss her was immense, he was well aware of the fact that once their lips met, he would fast control of his actions. Would he even be able to stop? They were around people right now and even in his inebriated mind, he seemed well aware of that.

-------He non verbal as well as vocal invitation was all the encouragement he needed. Feeling her forehead rested on his, and her warm breath, and her alluring scent... everything about her was just so sensual right now. He pulled back a bit, taking her hand in his and getting to his feet. Or staggering to his feet rather. The sudden movement made him feel even more light headed as everything seemed to spin around him. He took a couple of moments to orientate and balance himself. When he felt less impaired he looked at Caitrin. "Shall we go to our room then?" He asked, already taking a step towards the stairs. Not his room, not her room... their room. When he took a step forward, he managed to run into the side of the table. His empty mug fell over but what did he care.

-------It did however capture the attention of the man who had been intently focused on Caitrin. Vortigern looked at him, rapidly blinking a couple of times to clear the blurriness in his vision. "You," he began to say, pointing a finger at him with his hand that was not occupied with hers. "Are not invited." What was it, a warning? A flaunt over the fact that she was his and only his for the night? Or just foolish jargon spoken from the lips of a drunk man. Whatever it was, Vortigern looked away, finding the sight of Caitrin a far more desirable and pleasurable one. "Lets go," he added eagerly, not wanting to waste any more time in this less than private setting.

-------He kept his eyes fixated on her, and only her. Even when he felt her soft hand touch his arm, to his hand. He never longed for her to touch him in any way, but now, he felt nothing that he wanted more. Did alcohol really possess the power to change all of your opinions and perspectives? Vortigern was a man who saw himself far more superior than anyone in a lower class, and now here he was, feeling that longing for a woman who was far beneath his station. This was so very wrong and perhaps he would realize it in the morning. But tonight was theirs. He moved his hand towards her, taking a lock of her hair and moving it forward so it fell closer to her cheek. He then began to lightly twist the bottom of the lock around his finger. Playing with her strikingly red hair. A unique color. It was so soft too! Oh god, he was so drunk.

-------Which was an even worse state to be in when she asked such questions that begged for answers. Then again, she was probably only asking because he was in this state... because they were both in this state of intoxication. He tucked her hair behind her ear allowing his thumb to graze her perfectly soft and warm cheek. "I have many suggestions," he answered confidently. The way her head was directed to him, it would be so easy to just turn his a little to the side, at the perfect angle, and lean forward... which he did. He indeed did lean forward as if it kiss her but purposely paused the moment before their lips would have touched. "But none are appropriate for such a public setting," he finished off, the suggestion becoming stronger in his voice. As did his desires, and his dare he say... passion for her.

-------He did not care if she was cold and wet. Hell, he did not even care if she was dying! He hoped she got a chill and would be too weak to travel from here. That way, he could just leave with ease, getting directions from one of the people here. Though, they all seemed utterly incompetent. Not that she was much better than them. "Good for you," he grumbled, with a sarcastic 'congratulations' type of tone. "It is of no consequence to me, for I refuse to go in such a closed room with you." Because she was just so bloody annoying! If he had his own room, he would have been able to rest on the undoubtedly uncomfortable, pathetic excuse for a bed; but at least he would have had peace and quiet. Well, maybe just quiet. The bad bed would have made his sleep more restless than what he was used to. But no; he had resorted to drinking. And that was how it shall remain. A simple no? "Do not ask stupid questions if you will not like the answer." Did she really expect him to have said a simple 'no thank you' and moved on? Really?

-------He could not understand how she could eat such.. stale looking bread. Nor was he going to ask. He just held the mug of ale in his hand, finding the effects of the alcohol making the taste of the actual beverage far more bearable and easier to stomach. Her next question was, a bit out of the ordinary. He did not find himself as annoyed when she asked it though. Again, perhaps that was thanks to the alcohol. "Seeing your face certainly does not have that effect of wanting to smile," he insulted, before taking another large sip. He felt his head lighten a bit. Alcohol. Yes. Surely it must be the alcohol. For if it was not, then his next words were just obscurely uncharacteristic of him. He leaned forward a bit, a small smirk on his face, as he rested his arms on the table, crossed over one another. "Why? Do you want me to smile?" Was he... no no. Dear god. He certainly was not trying to sound, charming and flirtatious. Yet, when his ears heard the words once they escaped his lips, that is sure as hell what it sounded like. And, he made no effort to remedy it.

-------He was frustrated by her answer but why should he have expected any differently? It would have been too easy for her to comply, and then skip up to the room happily and merrily with a plate of food in her hands. "First you whined, complained, and sulked about wanting to say in room. Now, you are not even taking full advantage of it." His voice was low but they were not far enough from each other for her to not have heard it. Unfortunately. He just shook his head finding that no matter which topic filled their conversation, it would never be one of agreement. So with that certainty in mind, he took another large gulp of the beverage. Liquid tolerance. Yes. That was how he would be spending the night. If he was forced to be around this insane woman, then he needed something other than the virtue of patience, to avoid killing her. There were far too many witnesses here. He would have to pick a more secluded location, should he desire to do such a thing.

-------When the food arrived he looked at it. He was just as disgusted by the appearance of this so called 'bread and cheese', as he was with the taste of the beverage he was chugging down. Furthermore, she offered him some. Instead of taking this as a nice gesture, he was offended that she would even consider this food was suitable for a prince. "Are you mad?!" He questioned, appalled by the mere offer. "I would rather not have a flea infested, disgustingly dry, piece of, what they try to pass of as, bread and cheese." The disdain was clear in his voice. He did not care of anyone overheard him, even if he was not shouting it out to the world. "It looks revolting! As if putting it in ones mouth would be poisonous!" To avoid the very thought, he continued to drink his drink, finding the heavy dose of alcohol beginning to take effect. Only in the slightest way, for he leaned back in his seat a bit, still looking nauseated by the food in front of him. How could she eat that?! Even a noble would be accustomed to better food. But then again, she was not like most nobles. Which was what made her presence immensely undesirable.

-------Of course they should be honored. Though he did not want to be here it was fortunate for everyone that he was. But again, it was not something he had done by choice. When she spoke of her father, he concealed all irritation he felt. The king could not spare five minutes to greet his potential son in law? How rude. He was a prince, expected to be greeted by the entire royal family, or in this case, the father and daughter. But instead, they just send the princess out alone to do the greeting? That hardly seems formal. And it was hardly acceptable. But Vortigern forced a polite smile to remain. Of all the things he would find wrong with this meeting, that would not be the only one; or the worse one probably. But still, he was making a list in his head. "I look forward to making his acquaintance at dinner then." And hopefully he would indeed be present. Vortigern doubted he could get through a whole dinner with just her. Their conversation would probably be filled with Gwent gossip and what the latest fashion of the kingdom was. Gildas had said that Isadora was well versed in the politics of the kingdom, but Vortigern held very little belief in this. She was just a woman after all. Her idea of politics is probably which color scheme looks best in the castle.

-------"His health slowly declines," Vortigern said rather honestly. He did not think about his answer as carefully, and besides, it was no secret that Gildas was ill. It was why he sent his son rather than attend himself. As before, he used to be rather consistent with visiting potential allies and such. So to send Vortigern, who wanted nothing more than a war, truly was a last resort for him. Or it could be, as he would always say, 'an opportunity to learn something'. "I am certain that had he been well enough to travel, he would have wanted nothing more than to be here." And Vortigern would have wanted nothing more than... to not be here. Especially not standing out here making small chit chat. He extended his arm forward, holding out his hand motioned towards the doors. "Shall we go inside?" He asked. He was the male, she was probably waiting for him to take the leadership role and direct them into the castle... even though it was her home.

-------The key to who's room? Her room? Is that what she said? No no no. It was his room and she would do well to remember that. "It is not your room," he corrected bluntly. But he knew that this argument was futile. They would never reach a mutual understanding about any aspect of their lives. They had argued about everything, from respect, to her virtue, to his intelligence... everything. And now the room was just another point of debate to add on to the tremendously long list. How was he going to last an entire night with her? Would they actually get sleep? Or would they spend the entire night simply arguing with each other? The thought alone made Vortigern want to groan, though he managed to suppress this sign of annoyance and dread. "You can not persuade me of anything, so do not bother even trying." Whether it be about the room, or any other little flirtatious remarks she was throwing his way, only to get him more furious. It was working.

-------She was not the only one with a horrible headache and all this bickering had only intensified it. "Well then it is unfortunate," he began to say in a calm voice. "That it was only the hilt of the sword that hit your head and not the damn blade!" His voice had clearly become less calm near the end of his sentence, for he was saying he wished the sword had just slit her skull open. With those words, he turned the key and entered the room. It was... disgustingly small. This was not even big enough for one person; how would they accommodate two people?! It was a horrid room. Even dingier than the downstairs. And he was expected to remain here for the night? He, crown prince of Sorelia, future king, ruthless general of the Sorelian army, was expected to sleep in this room? There was something so very wrong about this.

-------Never the less he entered, closing the door behind him, looking around with pure repulsion. He noticed her sit on the chair. Good! At least she did not leap for the bed. Vortigern made his way to the bed that basically took up majority of the room and sat at the edge of it. The bed... his bed. He took off his black vest and through it on the side table. The weight of the wet leather felt less burdening, for it had grown heavy from the rain. And now, it was just lying there, hopefully able to dry by morning. "This room is far from cozy," he argued, once again. "It is horrendously small." And... just ... unsuitable for him. He deserved far better than this; he was entitled to far better than this. Unable to stand it, he angrily rose to his feet, grabbed his vest, and stormed out. Throwing the door open, and then slamming it shut when he was outside. There was one thing and one thing only that would make this night remotely bearable: and that was alcohol... lots and lots of alcohol.

-------Deaf. Rude. These insults were getting tiresome! How could someone be so stupid as to insult him! Ridiculous woman that she was, and he wished for nothing more than to get rid of her. Even having told her to stop talking didn't seem to be working very well. She just kept going and going. Was there no end?! Oh of course not; she was cursed. Horribly unlucky. "There are plenty of other rooms. Ones that you will have to compromise to get into." Not his! NOT his! Great. Back to her flirtation and quite frankly, he was not in the mood. "Spare me," he snapped. Doubting that she would be anything that he would find interesting, even in that department. Though if it made her stop talking... no! He would never degrade himself to that level of being, intimate with just a noblewoman. The thought alone made him cringe.

-------As Vortigern made his way up the stairs, towards their room, he did not have to look behind him to realize that the man was blocking her passage. Did he care? No. He would throw coin at the man for just getting her off his hands. What he did hear, was her refer to him as her fiancee. Still walking forward, not even turning behind him, he responded to her statement. "She is not my fiancee," he called down to them, rather casually. "Do with her what you will." And with those words of finality, turned down the small narrow hallway to find which room was his. He did not know how she would resolve that, and hoped the man was of some use to him. What he did know, and all he cared about, was that she was out of his sight. She was gone!

-------Vortigern looked at each closed door, trying to find the number that would match the one on the key. It seemed to be the one furthest down the hallway. He was about to go when he suddenly heard a voice. That oh so familiar voice. He froze, and raised his head, looking directly above him in pure frustration. Why was it that the more he tried to get away from her, the closer she came to him?! If he flicked her, would she just go away? Vortigern lightly pushed her to the side. Lightly, because she was already frail that he did not need to shove her too hard. "Get away from me," he harshly spoke, not in a raised voice though. It was low as he did not want to attract the attention of those downstairs.

-------After having pushed her, he proceeded to the room, putting the key in and pausing before turning it in the lock. He looked at her, well aware that it was not going to be that easy to get rid of her. "Since you seem to be as attached to me as a leech would be, let us get a few things clear. You are not sleeping on the bed. You will sleep on the ground, or in another room. I do not care. And you will hold your tongue for I require rest. Not your irritating jabber that has not ceased since the moment I made your acquaintance." Yes. He was going to get this all straightened out indeed.