The peace that formerly reigned in Terra Nova has eroded, now little more than a memory. War ravages the continent. Disputes divide kingdoms; ideals divide families. The quest for power consumes absolutely and indiscriminately. None are immune to its allure.
Who will rise and who will fall? Only time—and ambition—will tell.
UPDATES
05.26.2023
2 month character creation hold for all existing members begins 6/5/2023. Ended 8/5/2023.
10.29.2023
Change in how times flows. Was 4 IC seasons, now only 2 IC seasons per 1 OOC year.
5 whole years of Heir Apparent goodness! When I started the site, I knew I was hunkering down for the long haul, but I never could have predicted the numerous twists and turns this roleplay site has seen. Hundreds of plots, characters, and members have come and gone, all leaving marks on the site. I am so very thankful for those who have invested. Because you keep coming back, keep getting on, and keep writing, Heir Apparent has the legacy it does today. Three cheers to us!
Warren moved down the hall with Regan behind him, leading her to the small room he'd taken for himself for the duration of his stay in Cambria. Once there, he'd open the door for her and allow her in, then enter as well and close it behind them. His mind cycled through a myriad subjects and couldn't settle on just one as he turned to her. The thought at the forefront of his mind was a simple one: he wanted to reach out and grab her, hold her, kiss her. They just didn't have time for it.
Instead, he pulled out the old wooden chair that sat by the small desk, and took a seat, offering for her to sit on the bed if she wanted. "I'm glad to see you, even if we don't have a lot of time." That was frustrating, too, but in a different way. "Despite everything said, I hope you know that I have every confidence in you and Othello. There will be some reaction to Isolde's disappearance, but it won't be anything I'm not prepared for. I thought I'd be pulling her from her seat myself, so I'd planned for the worst. I just thought I'd have more time, and this announcement has caught me off guard." There was no reason that anything from his own side of the line should catch him off guard, but he'd have to suck it up and adapt.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jul 1, 2023 21:44:03 GMT -5
Regan followed Warren down the hall, trying to gather her fractured thoughts. She couldn’t afford to lose focus—not when they had so much to lose in failure—but Ber and Warren’s frustrations had made her uneasy. What if they weren’t prepared? What if something happened in the aftermath of Isolde’s arrest, something that had consequences Warren would have to bear? Regan knew Cassian would protect her, that her position was not contingent on the mission’s success, but could Warren say the same of Hadrian?
Evidently not.
When the door closed behind them, Regan’s hands twitched to reach for him. The movement was slight and quickly reined in when Warren pulled the chair up next to the desk. A twinge of disappointment clenched in her chest before she sat down on the bed, mustering up whatever professionalism she could get a hold of as Warren spoke. At his question, Regan was quiet for a moment before she shrugged.
“I just can’t bungle this one. Not like I did before,” Her words were little more than an awkward mumble, “I know we’re ready, but sometimes that doesn’t matter.”
Warren nodded. He understood what she meant as well as anyone could. The success of all of this would also determine where Warren’s career went. In a way it was a lose/lose situation. If he did poorly, he’d likely be demoted. If it went well it would help solidify his position, but he would be taking credit for a success that was hardly his to claim. Regardless of the truths that rested somewhere in between, Warren was unwilling to let it all bother her. It could all be addressed when they came to it, if they came to it.
“You’ve done what you can to prepare. Don’t doubt yourself now, there’s no need. You’ll do fine, I know you will.” He was still cursing himself for letting his frustrations get the better of him. Regan had been confident of herself and sure of their plan when he’d walked through her door just a short time before, and now she looked less so. He couldn’t help but blame himself. “I’ve already got it worked out. I’ll speak with Lieutenant Terach tonight about making the changes, and it’ll be done by morning. You don’t have to worry about us. So just focus on Isolde and trust me, I’ll handle the rest.”
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jul 2, 2023 8:26:01 GMT -5
How much of Warren’s calm assuredness was a front and how much was legitimate didn’t matter. Either way, Regan drank it up, growing less and less agitated with every word until a soft, crooked smile tugged at her lips. She’d still worry about them, that was a guarantee, but Regan did trust him. He understood the risks of leadership, what the weight of it demanded, and if Regan were to have Cambria put it in anyone’s hands, it would be Warren’s.
“I know,” Regan said, still smiling a little, “Seems like handling things is what you do best. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of the opportunity.” A little bit of a tease had wiggled its way into her tone.
Warren looked across the room and met her eyes. He smiled, too, and somewhat embarrassed by the tease he looked down at his hands which rested out in front of him. He felt like they understood one another. Even when things were tense, or unsure, there was an understanding. And trust. It was just difficult to see it through when they were always in different places.
"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," he said, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together. If Regan was only told what she needed to know in order to go after the people the King pointed at, she probably wouldn't know about their plans to begin taking Cambrian girls. Warren wasn't sure exactly when Commander Usher intended to begin, but he knew he didn't want to leave his soldiers behind for Zulu Carr without seeing it through. "I have no idea if I'm supposed to tell you about this or not, but I'm going to. Maybe you already know." He shrugged, and looked back up at her.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Suddenly he felt a little paranoid. Removing one woman, removing Isolde was bad enough but there were Cambrians who would support her movement. None of them would likely support this. So instead, he stood up and walked to the desk behind him, pulled out a sheet of parchment and a pen, dipped it in ink, and wrote: "Taking Cambrian girls at first blood to Nevermere for training. All or specific ones, uncertain."
He walked over and offered her the paper, and watched Regan as she read it. "Commander Usher told me about it. Something like this would have to have been approved by the King. I don't expect they'll take it well."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jul 3, 2023 17:18:11 GMT -5
Regan’s soft smile spread into a toothy grin. Though so much of Warren’s appeal rested on his calm authority, Regan delighted in the chance to put him off balance—if only for a moment. Her gleeful grin, however, faded into a more serious expression, shifting along with Warren’s demeanor. Something else? Regan certainly didn’t want any more surprises before they went to snatch up the governor. Her brow furrowed as she scooted forward on the bed, concern intensifying when Warren took up pen and paper.
“Oh, I…” When he handed it to her, Regan’s cheeks turned red with preemptive embarrassment. Her literacy—or lack thereof—was still a source of insecurity. She could read, it just took a little time. Hunched over the parchment, Regan ran her finger beneath the words like a child, stalling in some places as her lips twitched to sound out the words. When she’d gotten the jist, Regan’s eyebrows rose to the top of her forehead.
Interesting. It would be clear the Huntsman didn’t know. Regan sat with the information for a moment before saying slowly, “No. I don’t imagine they will. But…” She ran a hand through her hair, “Cassian doesn’t make any move he’s not sure of. If this is something he’s decided on, he’ll see it through.”
He watched her work it out, and found himself frowning over the implication. Not because she wasn't the best reader, that didn't bother him in the slightest. Most soldiers weren't. He knew she'd been an orphan growing up, but she worked directly for the King now. She had everything she could want at her disposal, even if she didn't want much. Lessons should have been offered to her, but then, maybe she hadn't wanted them. It wasn't necessary, really, but it could be useful.
She hadn't known, though. He could tell from her reaction. That comforted him somewhat, though her response seemed to melt that comfort away. His frown remained, though it wasn't an irregular sight on his face. "I'm not concerned about whether or not they intend to follow through," he said, still speaking quietly as he reached for the paper once more, carrying it over to his desk and ripping it into pieces before tossing it in the small garbage can near the desk. "In fact, I know they will." They, being the King and the Commander. He thought of their discussion with Odina, and the way Hadrian had planted the thought in the most casual way possible.
But it all troubled him. Maybe because his own son had been taken from him, but stealing girls from their mothers without giving them a choice didn't sit well with him. He scratched his face, eyed focused temporarily down on his desk instead of at her. Cassian. The confidence in her voice reminded him that though they shared some kind of relationship, her loyalty, her devotion, was to the King. And he couldn't blame her for that, but the image of the King coming to personally take her from his arms when she'd been injured remained. It wasn't as plain as jealousy, or envy. Surely, those two feelings were there. But it was a reminder that he had to be careful. Should he have to be careful?
"I don't like it," he whispered plainly, honestly. "Isolde is the problem. You're removing her. Odina will replace her, and with her, Nevermeran ways will continuously settle in. Some of the women were already bearing Nevermeran children. There's no point in forcing them into this. If it's what they choose for their daughters, so be it, but..." to take them? The question was implied, though he didn't speak it for the sake of keeping the secrecy. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside her, running his hands through his hair.
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jul 4, 2023 9:36:46 GMT -5
Regan was not a thinker. Strategy and tactics were within her reach, but when it came to grappling with the larger questions—ones of morality and necessity—she floundered. Perhaps that was part of what had made her an effective soldier: she carried out her orders without asking too many questions, never stopping to think about the why, only reaching for the ‘how’. Now, with the examination of the king’s supposed plan being dropped at her feet, Regan’s instinct was to double down.
“There’s got to be something else. Something we’re not seeing,” Regan said, though she was aware of how weak the defense sounded as soon as it’d left her mouth, “Maybe he’ll, uh, wait to see how things go with the new governor. Take things by degrees. Cassian’s not cruel, he wouldn’t do something like that unless with was absolutely necessary.”
Warren sat there in silence for a moment or two, considering her words. Her trust in the king seemed absolute, and until that very night, Warren had never doubted him, either. This mess of miscommunication could very well have been a mistake, overlooked by the chaos that remained in Nevermere following the ball, and the subsequent pressure to get it all right. Everyone made mistakes, even the King, and one should not attribute to malice what could be explained by ignorance.
The idea itself had struck a nerve in Warren because of the callousness of the Commander's words. Disease...infection. Surely they would never be able to make all of the Cambrian's happy - but they were safe, that was what mattered, and they simply could not stand alone against the Nevermeran forces. That was a fact, and one that would keep any reasonable person from attempting to begin an uprising. Sanity had clearly left Isolde long ago, but Odina would reel in what she had let off line. If there was obvious improvement, the King would be forced by that very same reason to change such plans. Especially with his own Aunt at the head.
Commander Usher may have seemed more than willing the carry out the idea without question, but he could not make the decision without the King's say-so. The investigation into the interference of the wine at the ball proved that.
So Warren nodded, straightening his back. "You're right. It's best to see how things evolve without making too many assumptions." He turned to her, reaching for her hand so he could kiss it, and wrap it up in his. "Will you keep this between us? It is not generally my way to ask someone to keep secrets, but I'm already on probation. Should the Commander hear that I've told anyone this, I will likely be demoted. Or worse," he shrugged, as if he was unsure. He didn't regret telling her, and if the Commander found out and he was demoted, so be it. He was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions and riding out the consequences. At least his conscience would be clear.
"There is one more thing," he said, his other hand lifting to run itself through her hair and pull her closer so he could kiss her. "I'll be away for a while. I can't know how long. I'll be sent to Zulu Carr when everything here is done."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jul 4, 2023 13:06:52 GMT -5
When the subject was dropped, Regan ceased to think anything of it. Warren was entitled to opinions given his position. He’d earned the right to one (unlike some, in her view). To express them in private was not a crime, so long as he held the party line when the time was right—and Regan had no doubt that he would. Besides, while Regan would tear the world to pieces for hte king, she was no friend of the commander. So there was distrust on her side as well.
“Of course,” Regan readily agreed, resting her other hand against the side of his face while clasping her other in his. It felt good to be close, as if she’d been holding her breath and she could now release it. When he kissed her, Regan shifted, swinging her leg over to straddle him, face-to-face. Listening—or trying to listen, anyway—Regan’s gaze scanned his features.
Zulu Carr.
Regan frowned a little. It was more surprising than it should have been. Deployment was a certain reality for someone in Warren’s position. But somehow…it hadn’t occurred to her. And she didn’t like it.
“That’s…” Regan searched for the right word, not really finding it, “Something.” She dragged her fingers along his jaw, still frowning.
As she moved over into his lap, Warren's hands slid down to take hold of her hips. Selfishly, he appreciated her response. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but at the very least, she wasn't happy that he'd be gone for so long and that was a relief. He couldn't help but grin, though he tried his best to hide it. "The King wants his new city built, and someone has to oversee. I was supposed to go there first, but the Commander had to change the assignments when Grant Delaney took time off. So I suppose it was put on hold until Isolde is taken care of."
He turned his head to kiss the fingers she had trailing his jaw, and though he was glad to know she might miss him, he also knew what the time away could mean. "I know this is still new, and I may not have the right to ask this of you. I just want you to know that..." he sighed, a little frustrated. "I know you don't belong to me, but if I had it my way, you wouldn't be with anyone else. I'm not - I'm not holding you to that. That wouldn't be fair. I just want you to know what I want. If that makes any sense."
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jul 5, 2023 20:32:06 GMT -5
It made sense that they’d chosen Warren. He was the most experienced and, beyond that, the right kind of man to thread that particularly difficult needle. But with that came the reality that this was no ordinary deployment where one could cycle out at the end of the season. It was a daunting task that could stretch on for months or years—however long the commander saw fit. Regan sighed, letting the closeness soothe her until…
Regan’s smile fell. The longer Warren spoke, the more acutely Regan felt a pain in her chest, the guilt she’d been suppressing finally surfacing to sting. The sincerity of his tone, the perfect, gentle honesty of his words—Regan wanted it all for herself, she did. Without a thought, she’d soaked in every last drop of his calm certainty. But now, confronted with what might be required of her in return, Regan faltered. She was quiet for a long moment, still close but with a now pained expression on her face. At some point, the pain shifted to a sorrowful realization of an inescapable truth.
“It does,” If he allowed, Regan’s hands would slip to the sides of his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw so that he faced her straight on. “I—I just need you to understand…” Regan floundered for a moment before she settled on a few careful words. “I will always be what the king needs me to be. Even if it hurts you, Cassian will always come first. Always.”
Regan stayed close, not pulling away unless Warren initiated it.
Her natural warmth was as comforting as it had always been, but the expression on her face twisted his stomach.
Could he blame her? She had known the King longer, he had put her into a position of power. A position at the King's hand was not one just any commoner could take. Everyone knew the story about how she'd challenged him, but when he took her directly from Warren's arms on the night of the ball, Warren knew there was more to it. What more was, well, that was unclear. Her loyalty was not unclear, and even if he'd prepared himself for every kind of rejection, it still hurt to hear it. Worse to see it, and the way it pained her to say it.
Warren had devoted his life to the Kingdom. His work had become everything. His loyalty unquestionable. The King was part of that. So instead of going home, he stayed at work. Instead of celebrating important days with his wife, he was at work. Instead of posing for a painting with his wife and son, he was at work. And when his wife, in her most desperate of moments, begged him to stay home, he went to work. He told himself that it was for his family. To make his wife, his son, his father proud. But on the day that the King stood over him and supported his promotion to Captain, who was left to share in that pride? They were all gone.
He had chosen the King over his wife, and now that he had finally allowed himself to care for someone again, the woman he choose would make the same choice. That was his punishment. His recompense.
"I understand that more than you can know," he said quietly, meeting her eyes. He couldn't preach to her about how it wasn't worth it, because maybe for her, it would be. If anyone could give her anything and everything, it was Cassian Rainecourt. Losing Warren would be nothing compared to losing a King. Yet, in his experience, loyalty to a figure, to an idea, had not been worth it. In the end, the one thing it gave him was an empty rank. One he was, notably, near losing.
"Is that all it is, though?" The question was one that he was sure would haunt him if he didn't ask. One that he thought it was best to ask now. "Your loyalty to him, I understand that, but are you in love with him?"
Post by Regan Lassiter on Jul 6, 2023 19:21:05 GMT -5
Warren understood. Of course he did.
A secret part of her wanted Warren to cast her to the side. She wanted him to alleviate her guilt by throwing a tantrum like a petulant child—much how she would if the tables had been turned. For even now, Regan’s stomach turned at the hypothetical of another woman in Warren’s bed, nestled happily in the crook of his arm with her head laying on his chest. It would be within his rights. It would be what he deserved because what he deserved wasn’t her, it wasn’t this. But knowing that wasn’t enough to make Regan let go. Instead, she pulled closer, held tighter so that he wouldn’t slip away.
Regan’s fingers had returned to running along Warren’s jawline when the question came. They stilled in clear surprise as she was struck dumb by the most relevant question there was.
Did she love him?
Did she?
Regan grappled with the inquiry, trying to wrestle all the complicated pieces into a succinct, honest answer. The struggle played out across her features without an effort to suppress it, without her knowing her eyes starting to faintly glow. Love was a word too incomplete to capture just what it was that bound her to Cassian. Servitude wasn’t right either. Devotion was closer, but it was more than that—she knew it was. There was an intimacy that went far beyond that. Maybe not before she’d challenged Alys, but now? Things had changed.
“It’s not that simple,” Regan finally said, speech quiet and halting, “I need him. Like you need air to breathe or water to survive. It’s not love, exactly, it’s…I wish I could explain, could tell you everything…” She shook her head, “But I can’t.”
Last Edit: Jul 7, 2023 10:49:17 GMT -5 by Regan Lassiter
Yes, Warren understood an undying loyalty. He understood that the King had taken her in. Maybe that she felt that he owed him. Owed him everything, even. But what she was explaining, he couldn't understand that. She wouldn't tell him everything. Couldn't, so she said. But he couldn't even begin to grasp what everything might be. Whatever it was, it was something she struggled to talk about, something she struggled to put into words. And when she had, those words had felt desperate. They were genuine, he knew that much.
But that hurt all the more. Once more he felt that pang of perspective, itching to free itself. Maybe Regan did need the King in such a way, but if Regan were gone, would he falter? Would Cassian Rainecourt pause for even a second? Was there anything that he sacrificed as Regan did?
If not, if there was no mutuality, what did Regan gain from such a relationship? Because every time she'd come to Warren, she'd done so for a reason. It wasn't just sex. There was more. She needed more, things she couldn't get from the King even though she was giving him all of herself.
He reached up and took hold of her hands, moving them slowly downward, away from his face. He held onto them, and didn't avoid her eyes, but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. He'd asked for the truth and she'd given it to him, but now he regretted it. He would have preferred to live in ignorance of it. "I wish you could explain it, too," he said, because maybe if he could understand it better, could make it into something of sense and reason, it wouldn't feel as bad as it did.
He took a breath, and likely looking as lost as she seemed to be, he shook his head. "We'll be apart, so I won't ask for your devotion. We can talk when I get back, and see how you feel then." Hands letting go of hers, he reached up and pulled her closer so he could kiss her forehead. Then his hands moved to her hips once more, lifted her up, and sat her back down on the bed.
He stood up, dragged one hand down the length of his face, and motioned toward his desk. "For now, your focus should be on your task. I have to make some changes to adapt to all of the new information, and it'll take some time to relay it to all of the soldiers. We'll be ready when you move for Isolde, and I'll be there to aid you if anything goes wrong. But it shouldn't. I have every faith in you and Mr. Allemeade."