Bright Young Things Mods (brightyoungmods) wrote in brightyoungprg, @ 2015-07-22 22:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: anthony bolduc, character: charlus potter |
WHO: King Anthony I of Québec and Prince Charlus Potter
WHEN: 11am Britannia time, Wednesday
WHERE: Anthony is in his study, Charlus is in his suite.
SUMMARY: An international Floo Call has been arranged, because Charlus has an important question to ask...
STATUS: Closed/complete
With this particular date in his diary being planned a considerable time ago, he was prepared to the precision standards that his people expected of him, Head of State and Head of the Armed Forces as he was. The King of Québec & The Maritimes was not a man who accepted lack of care in himself, and nor did he appreciate it in others. He was early to his 5am appointment by the fire in his study, and was watching very carefully to see how Charlus behaved in this situation, too.
5am was normally the time he woke to begin his day - earlier than he would when the late Queen was still alive - but he was still meticulously dressed, groomed and prepared as he sat in his winged armchair by the fireplace, raised high enough from the floor (at least, in this particular room of the palace) that he could remain seated while the call took place. Sitting straight, firm and still, he waited.
Charlus, on the other hand, was cursing the fact that the fireplace in his rooms had been built before floo powder had been invented, and he was therefore crouching before the fire rather inelegantly. He took a last moment to check his reflection in the mirror before tossing the handful of floo powder in as the clocks in his room began to chime the hour, and leaning forward to place his head and shoulders into the flames.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” he said, greeting the king with a polite smile. Hardly the normal rules of etiquette, but floo calls did rather throw the rulebook out the window.
Anthony, his arms resting on each arm of the chair he sat in, looked unblinkingly at the face of the young man who was looking up at him from the floor. He knew his manners, at least. A good start, but the King wasn’t going to make things too easy for the man who wanted to wed his daughter and therefore become her consort. Québec - but most importantly, Anaïs, deserved that.
“Good morning, Prince Charlus” he replied, his accent different to his daughter’s - a richer, more rolling sound, with a much greater Francophone influence than his US-educated heir. “You are on time, it seems. That is good. From what my ambassador tells me, we have much to discuss.”
Short and to the point? Yes. That was the King’s way and that of many Bolducs before him. It was the way of people whose intention was to get the job done, and to get the job done properly.
Well that was mildly intimidating. Charlus was under no illusion that this would be an easy conversation, but he had hoped for a little more polite chit-chat before getting down to business, as it were. He should have expected no less from Anaïs’ father, however.
“We do indeed,” he agreed. “Sadly I only learnt French, and not Quebecois, but if you’d prefer we can discuss the matter in French rather than English?” He would leave it entirely in King Anthony’s hands. He had greeted the man in English, but that was more habit than anything else. This was a situation in which he very much wanted to stay on Anthony’s good side.
“The differences are not so insurmountable” Anthony replied with a slight wave of his hand. “That said, English is perfectly acceptable for the purposes of our conversation.” This was not just an attempt to see what Charlus’ manners were like - although he had noted the younger man’s concern for a non-native speaker, and chalked it up as a positive - but an opportunity to demonstrate to his future son-in-law just how capable he actually was. “Perhaps I should inform my daughter that she needs to explain the intricacies of our culture in greater detail to members of your country’s court.”
He took a sip of a steaming cup of espresso that sat on the table before him - one of the very few concessions to a European way of doing things that he would allow, and this only due to his wife’s influence. Every aspect of his demeanour, from his powerful and controlled stance to the severity of his tone, demonstrated how seriously he was taking this meeting.
“Speaking of Anaïs, I trust that Britannia is treating her well.”
He knew perfectly well how she was getting on, of course. His ambassador, members of her retinue, and Anaïs herself kept him very well informed in intricate detail. Charlus wasn’t to know that, however, and Anthony wanted to see the way in which Charlus spoke of her before he would consent to a marriage.
Charlus nodded, trying to hide his relief. He felt he’d find it far easier to impress King Anthony in English rather than struggling with French - though he was almost fluent (or close enough for diplomatic purposes), he still had to think before he spoke and was never as comfortable speaking it as he was his own tongue.
“Your daughter has been very tolerant of my attempts to learn the differences between your culture and that of France,” he admitted. “And yes, I believe she’s enjoying her stay. She misses home of course,” he tilted his head a little. “And particularly her younger brother, but I hope we’re keeping her entertained enough that she doesn’t feel the loss too keenly.” He smiled, nerves fluttering slightly in his stomach.
“She came to Scotland with a small party of us. I have a castle there, and I hoped - well, I think - that the similarities between Scotland and Quebec - would ease any homesickness. I think she enjoyed her stay; certainly I don’t think it was diplomatic politeness when she told me she liked it there.” And that had meant so much to him. To see her feeling at home, smiling.
“Yes, Jean-Pierre misses her too” Anthony replied smoothly, wrapping his left hand - the one upon which his wedding ring still glittered - around his cup. “They have always been close, and it is not long since they lost their mother. You can appreciate, I am sure, that her happiness and wellbeing is therefore of the greatest concern to us.” He paused, ensuring that he had Charlus’ eye before continuing.
“Anaïs is the jewel of our country. She is the symbol of its future, a princess whose goals will be to ensure a smooth transition into the modern world and a young woman who is much loved by her people. It would be a terrible upset to the Québecois if they felt she was not appreciated by others in the way that we do.”
Charlus nodded. Having lost his father not that long before Anaïs’ mother had passed, he had sympathised greatly with her. And catching sight of the ring still on Anthony’s left hand, he realised that Anaïs was not the only one in mourning. At the pause he looked up, meeting the King’s gaze unflinchingly.
“Well in that regard I am in agreement with the people of Québec,” he replied smoothly. “Anaïs is a wonderful young woman, and a credit to your country. She-” he faltered a little, his smile a little less polite and little more like a young man in love. “She is very easy to grow fond of.” Certainly it hadn’t taken him long to fall for her.
Anthony hadn’t kept firm and loyal control of his country without being able to read people - and the pause and rephrasing of Charlus’ speech did not go unnoticed. Nor, according to his fierce dark stare, had the softening of the expression on his face. Now, this was interesting. He and Emrys had agreed to see what would happen if the pair had the chance to meet… had it paid off so well already?
“Only fond? I find myself wondering if my ambassador has misinterpreted your intention in making this call this morning” he mused as if thinking aloud, in reality feeding Charlus the bait to be honest about his feelings and intentions.
“No misinterpretation, Your Majesty,” Charlus said, shaking his head. “Quite frankly, I’m mad about her. I realise that she hasn’t been here for that long, but - well,” he laughed slightly, a little abashed, “-as I said, she’s very easy to fall for. And believe me, I’ve fallen for her.” He swallowed almost audibly, looking Anthony straight in the eyes as he continued.
“I love your daughter. She’s an incredible woman, and she’ll be a formidable queen. I would dearly like to be at her side to see that happen - in the distant future, of course.” That last part hurriedly added, as he realised he’d essentially talked about an event that would only occur with Anthony’s death.
“I couldn’t say how she feels about me, of course, I wouldn’t dream of speaking for her,” he continued, “but I believe she loves me too - or that she could, one day. With your permission, I’d like to ask your daughter for her hand in marriage.” It was phrased that way intentionally - while Charlus was undoubtedly clearing it with Anthony first, he was under no illusion that Anaïs could be made to do anything she didn’t want to do, nor forced to make a choice she hated.
While he was impressed - not that he would ever say so - with the fact that Charlus seemed genuine about his feelings, the King was not quite ready to let him off the hook just yet. Still, at the moment when Charlus came very close to making an embarrassing faux-pas, even Anthony’s steely visage cracked slightly, the tiniest of smirks emerging from the corner of his straight-lined mouth, and an undeniably Anaïs-like twinkle of amusement in his eyes. There was no mistaking whose father he was at that moment, even if he chose not to verbally respond while his daughter most certainly would.
“Formidable she is. She is the best of both her mother and I - while she has my late Queen’s knack for diplomacy, Anaïs is a Québecoise witch through and through, which some of your European fellows may find hard to swallow.” A deliberate pause, allowing his words to sink in. “Before I can think about giving my consent, I need to be certain that our culture and traditions will be given their due respect while time is spent at your brother’s court.”
Charlus listened carefully, thinking that the phrase ‘with bated breath’ was certainly an accurate one. He could barely breathe while King Anthony was talking, which made it even harder to concentrate. The King hadn’t laughed in his face or turned purple with rage so Charlus was considering it to have gone fairly well so far.
“Of course,” he replied. “As the second child of our father, the weight of responsibility and tradition is - thankfully - not as heavy on my shoulders as it is on my brother’s,” he explained. “Any man who marries your daughter does so with the knowledge that he is to be a Queen’s Consort one day, that his children are heirs to the Québecois throne first and foremost.” Something that he had no issue with, much as he loved his home and his country.
“I would move mountains to make Anaïs happy, Your Highness. I will do everything I can to ensure that she feels honoured and welcomed while in Britannia.”
Well. This was promising. The main reason Anthony would secretly have preferred Charlus for a son in law all along - if the arrangement between Britannia and Ireland had not existed for Emrys’ hand, that is - was the lack of a need to compromise on traditions. Of course, any ceremonies and negotiations would take both countries into account, but he was the King of a little-understood but proud nation, Anaïs was his heir, and he would hold out for as much of their ways and means as he could.
“I am glad that you understand the seriousness with which we take this issue, Prince Charlus. I could not give my daughter’s hand to a man who did not recognise the importance of his role of future Prince Consort of Québec.” Anthony was, privately, thinking of the possibility of future Canadian territories seceding and coming into his nation’s fold. Newfoundland was likely to join them within the year, making it even more vital that the country’s heritage be secured.
“Let us begin with the most vital of our requirements, then.” The King was no fool - word these as requests, and Britannia could find a way to weasel out of them. Word them as demands, and it would make his country seem like a shouty, unworthy little nation with something to prove. Not good for their image. “First, any marriage ceremony and the birth of the first child must both take place on our soil. Ideally, the same would be the case for any others, but Anaïs’ heir must follow in the footsteps of his or her mother. Similarly, at least the first child must carry the name Bolduc. Anaïs is the one who will be monarch, and thus it is her name that her heir must take.” Anthony was a traditionalist and would respect any negotiations for other children to at least share the name Potter, but this was something he felt it was his duty as King to put his foot down on.
Charlus didn’t answer straight away; his own country’s ambassadors, not to mention his brother, would likely strangle him if he was seen to agree to everything King Anthony asked for. No matter what discussions may have taken place between Emrys and Anthony before Charlus and Anaïs were even introduced, they still had to go through the motions.
“The marriage ceremony I can’t see being a problem at all,” he replied. “As advisor to my brother, however, I can’t abandon him and move permanently to Quebec, not in the near future at least. Provisions would have to be made allowing for Anaïs and I to return to Quebec once she’s pregnant and near full-term. And likewise, I would require at least one child to be born on British soil.” He scratched the side of his face with one finger, looking thoughtful.
“Duel citizenship won’t be a problem, of course. The surname-” and there he faltered a little. It rankled, the thought of not all his children having the same name. But equally he could understand why the King would want their surname to be Bolduc, at least for the heir to the throne. There would be Potters, as long as Emrys and Eleanora’s marriage produced heirs, but still...
“I don’t believe I can fully answer these questions on my own account,” he answered, honestly. “With my father deceased, it would be my brother’s decision that would finalise things.”
Anthony’s upper lip rose in what was undoubtedly a small smile, subtle as it was. He hadn’t asked the younger man to move permanently to his country - after all, the same request had not been made when he had married a Frenchwoman - but Charlus’ response was telling. He wasn’t so eager for a high profile marriage that he would cave to everything, and nor was he so disloyal to his brother that he would cede everything with regards to his own children - not without the full issue being discussed and agreed to through the appropriate channels. That spoke a lot for Emrys’ character as King, as well as Charlus’ character as Anaïs’ future husband. So far, so good.
“I would hardly expect you to make immediate agreements without the appropriate discussions being held. I tend to negotiate entirely for myself, of course, but the same cannot always be said for others” he replied, more smoothly this time, and seemingly more natural. Though, any relaxation that seemed to be occurring was fully because Anthony was allowing it to be seen. “I am content for these issues to be set aside for now. Left to the negotiation table, perhaps, but I would serve my daughter poorly if I did not make you aware from the beginning what being a Quebecois consort entails. It gives you the chance to back out before giving her unnecessary hope, should that be an issue.” He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, a pointed look that demonstrated exactly what he would think of Charlus if that were to happen.
With a swirl of fingers over his espresso cup, it was once again filled with the dark, bitter brew that Anthony sipped before continuing. “With the constitutional conventions out of the way, I assume you would also wish to know what it means on a practical basis for a role as Anaïs’ consort.”
Charlus caught that small smile and relaxed, just a little. He was good at reading non-verbal cues when it came to negotiation; was used to tailoring his words depending on how they were being received. That skill hadn’t failed him yet and it seemed today was no exception.
“I can’t imagine any duties so onerous that they would make me unwilling to wed Anaïs,” he replied easily, “but it would be foolish of me to agree to become her consort without any knowledge of what is expected of me. Your ways are not our ways, of course, and so even the experience of my relatives would, I imagine, be little help.” He was more than willing to listen, moreso now that his hope of King Anthony’s permission seemed to be a realistic one.
“Well, I suppose I can entrust my ambassador with the minutiae of the day to day details” he sniffed. It was clear that Anthony was a King who had a firm hand on the rudder, and delegation of even the smallest of instructional tasks was anathema to him. “But there are certain matters of which you will need to be aware before you mix with any number of Québecois for the first time.” He cleared his throat and sipped the espresso before continuing.
“Québec has only ever had two foreign consorts in its history. Indeed, prior to Anaïs, there has only ever been one outright Queen.” Anthony straightened himself, speaking with a grimness that belied his concern for his daughter’s leadership. “Should you wed Anaïs, her reign will be the first instance in which both of these facts overlap. It will be something you need to keep in mind when attending events with her over here, even in the early days, long before there is a crown on her head. Of course, the people have been used to a foreign consort of late, given Queen Annabelle’s origin, and we Bolducs have always done what we can to ensure that our female citizenry are as well trained and self-protected as our men.” It was true - for a relatively rural, militaristic monarchy, the family was much more progressive than some of its other counterparts. “However, there will be some who have doubts. Part of your job will be to help her erase them.” Anthony’s stance was clearly firm on that matter, as he looked Charlus straight in the eye again.
“Our people are proud. They are tough. They have a strong cultural identity for what is a comparatively small country compared to others. They will expect their Queen’s consort to endorse those values and support their continuance, lest they feel a foreign culture is being imposed upon them.”
That point was key to him. Many muggle Québecois felt that both Francophone and Anglophone cultures were being impressed over their own, and thus there was some resentment even for a natural ally such as France when they made certain assumptions. Britannia - or Britain, as far as the muggles were concerned - was another country from whom they would expect a certain amount of effort.
Charlus nodded. “There will be a great many people looking closely at your daughter and her consort, looking for weakness. For an excuse to ridicule the monarchy.” That part he was familiar with; it was hardly a problem that Quebec was alone in facing.
“I wouldn’t dream of enforcing Britannia’s ideas or values upon a foreign population, as a visitor or as the consort of royalty,” he assured Anthony. “It is, and always will be, Anaïs’ country. I’m not suggesting that I won’t need help, but I’m very willing to learn, your Majesty.”
Anthony noted Charlus’ words and reflected on them, making a mental note to inform the ambassador to educate the other man on just what their culture was like. Preferably, including a visit as soon as possible, to see if the Prince would sink or swim. Unlike other countries - perhaps due to its relative youth or the circumstances of its inception - the crown in Québec had a fiercely loyal support base and unwavering trust from the community. This did not, however, mean that something as new as a female monarch with a foreign husband would not cause doubts. It was, after all, a fairly conservative country in some aspects.
He was silent for a few moments, watching Charlus with the gaze of a falcon monitoring passing mice and debating whether it was worth the chase.
His attention was interrupted, however, when an assistant appeared off to his left, muttering something in rapid Québecois with the same rolling, broad vowels that peppered the speech of Anaïs’ assistant, Séverine. ”Excuse me, your majesty, but the Senior Undersecretary from Newfoundland has arrived early for the breakfast meeting. Should I keep him waiting, or..?”
“No, Claude, I will see him soon. Within the quarter hour, I should think” the King replied, quickly waving a hand upwards in dismissal before turning back towards the fire and facing Charlus solemnly.
“My apologies, Prince Charlus. The work of a King is so rarely done, as I’m sure your brother can appreciate.” He cleared his throat, focusing his attention back on him again.
“Well. As you are aware, Québec has its questions it wishes to discuss with the necessary parties. I will prepare my ambassador and send him along to any negotiations that your brother sees fit. He will be fully authorised to discuss this matter on my behalf - and ideally, it should not take too long to come to an arrangement.” His stare was still iron-clad, regarding Charlus with the analytical gaze for which he was well known by other Heads of State. “That is to say, pending a suitable result to these meetings… I see no reason” (the word ‘yet’ being implicit) “to deny your request.”
He folded his hands in his lap, watching Charlus for his response.
Charlus remained silent as Anthony looked at him assessingly. He didn’t fidget, or look away, as much as he was tempted to. It was relief when Anthony’s assistant appeared beside him, drawing his attention away. Charlus felt like he’d been flayed. Bared to Anthony’s scrutiny.
His shoulders sagged in relief, a bright smile breaking across his face. “I-thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll-yes. I’ll make our ambassadors, and my brother, aware of your requirements. I’m sure we can reach an accord.” Even if Charlus had to sit there and thrash every point out until they reached an agreement, he’d see it done.
“Thank you, again,” he added, that regal air dropping away slightly, showing more of the besotted young man who’d waxed lyrical about Anaïs. “I promise you won’t have any reason to regret that decision, Your Majesty.”
“I certainly hope not” Anthony replied, before tilting his head slightly and looking at Charlus with more of a gentleness than before, as if actively choosing to change his tune. His shoulders were not so high, his hands were back on the arms of his chair and one leg was now crossed over the other. Despite obvious reasons that people would claim Anaïs resembled her mother, it was clearer now that Anaïs could equally be claimed as her father’s daughter in spirit. The gaze was still penetrating, but there was a sense now that this was through a genuine care and not from the desire to trip up the person being beheld.
“It may seem as though a lot is being expected of you”, the King began, choosing his words slowly and carefully. “But I assure you, despite our country’s high expectations, the Québecois are a warm and down to earth people. Any effort they perceive is returned tenfold, and they have a strong affection for our family. When they understand that my daughter is happy and that you are willing to share in what we do, you will be made as welcome as Annabelle was following our marriage… she was probably more adored by the people than many rulers of our history, let alone consorts” he added with a wry smile.
“There will be no shortage of effort on my part, trust me,” Charlus promised. “Anaïs is...well,” he laughed softly. “You’re her father. I’m sure you’re well aware of how special she is.” And he was getting dangerously close to gushing about her, something he wasn’t sure he wanted to do with her father. He felt a little giddy; it wasn’t unconditional approval but Anthony had given his approval nonetheless. As long as their respective ambassadors could reach an agreement, he would be free to propose to Anaïs. Merlin. That was a slightly sobering thought. He’d have to plan a proposal now.
“I shouldn’t take up any more of your time, I’m sorry,” he said, bowing his head politely. “I’m sure you have a lot to be getting on with.”
“My children are my pride and joy - something you will learn for yourself one day, if you are lucky”, said Anthony, deliberately stretching his long legs and back as he adjusted his position in the chair, emphasising his full height - all 6’7 of him. The Bolducs were a physically imposing family. “I am entrusting my daughter’s happiness and safety to you. You would do well to remember that.”
He rose, giving a look back to Charlus’ face still in the grate. “I will be expecting to arrange a visit to Britannia if this is successful. A private visit rather than a state one, but I think seeing each other face to face before the wedding will be useful - don’t you agree?”
Charlus was rather glad this particular meeting hadn’t happened face to face. He wasn’t overly short, but when compared to his brother or Anaïs, he could seem that way. Next to Anthony, he would appear something of a midget. As if that wasn’t enough, here came the veiled threats. Understandable, he supposed - he’d been rather surprised they hadn’t come earlier in the conversation.
“I look forward to it,” he said slightly less enthusiastically. “And I promise I’ll take excellent care of your daughter.”