1Just a little something that's been hanging out waiting for my attention. Actually, it was intended as a chapter in a multi-chapter work I've been trying to get the muse to kick out, but she's not biting. At all. Grr. Just a sweet little scene between Iselle and Bergon at their northern border, set shortly after Paladin of Souls. Please review. Reviews make me happy!
Iselle stooped over her field writing desk, Bergon's hands on her shoulders, kneading away tension. The roan-haired woman leaned back into her husband's touch, closing her eyes and massaging back a migraine from her temples. "Women plead the headache to get out of unpleasant tasks all the time," she murmured. "Think that would work for me?"
Bergon smiled and rubbed her tense neck muscles. Iselle rumble-purred under his ministrations. "But that would turn you into an ordinary woman, my love," he murmured. "And we both know that you have never once been merely ordinary."
She smiled, eyes still closed. "But I shall be sure to complain much more often if it gets me treatment like this. Your hands are so wonderfully strong!"
Bergon grinned. "Comes of swinging a sword so often." His mouth quirked as a thought occurred. "I shall have to suggest it to the training master to encourage more practice among the boys - strong hands to please the ladies."
Iselle snorted. "I've a feeling it'll work on at least some of the lads," she said, stretching her loosened muscles and bending once more to her papers.
"You've heard all the news of Jokona. What news from Borasnen?" asked her husband, squeezing her shoulders once in affection before coming around the table and taking a seat around the corner to her.
The Royina passed the pertinent papers to him, already decoded and arranged by the chief spymaster, the fruits of his eyes and ears in that principality. "Civil unrest, murmurings against their current prince, but barely that. The old man keeps his people cowed through a combination of heavy taxes, changeable laws, corrupt officials, and a military force pulled straight from the prisons and chain gangs, or so it seems. The prince himself is grossly fat, lazy, and prone to intemperate rages, altogether unstable."
"Mm," muttered Bergon, eyes skimming across the tight, neat hand. "Anything we can use?"
Iselle sighed and shook her head. "Not yet, at any rate. Dy Gizar's spies say they're trying to whip up a little agitation, to keep Prince Eglon's attention focused at home rather than on his neighbors, but it's a difficult proposition. He hasn't bestirred himself for years."
"Then why try to create trouble now? It may be best to just let sleeping dogs lie," murmured Bergon, flipping his page over and starting on the next. "Avoid giving his troops any practice."
Iselle rubbed the back of her neck. "When we succeed in conquering one of the five Princedoms, his immediate neighbor, he'll be up and yapping, all right. Our best hope is to make sure he's distracted at home so that his attention - and his forces - are divided. Then we can secure our conquest without a lot of interference on our new borders."
Bergon leaned over and kissed his wife. "I love it when you talk strategy, love. It was a good day for Chalion when you ascended the royacy."
She kissed him back. "When we ascended the royacy," she corrected him. "This is a bigger job than just one person can handle."
He touched her belly, where young life was growing but had not, quite yet, stirred. "Two people at the moment, surely."
She laughed at that. "Say rather 'half' then. Once your son starts moving about, he shall be quite distracting."
"More so than his father?" questioned Bergon, and Iselle had to catch her breath at the look in his eyes. They were no longer newlyweds, but he could still turn her knees to water with a glance like that.
"No," she answered, "his father is much more distracting." With a deep breath and a great effort of will, she wrenched her eyes back to the table. "Tonight," she said, firmly, though whether to him or to herself she wasn't sure. "Now, what are the latest troop movements? Have you a plan for taking Castle Viada?"
Bergon sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "You only arrived in camp this afternoon," he said, "and already hard at work." With great reluctance, he turned his attention to the table, palming a few counters and arraying them along the map. "We're situated along the ridge here, mostly individual companies for easier and faster deployment. We can sweep out of the south from this grade here..."