#house courcel

What does it mean to be good? When I was a child, I thought I knew. It was easy then. I knew nothing of my birth or my heritage. My childhood was spent in the Sanctuary of Elua, where I was a ward. My days were spent in work like play: scrambling the mountainsides and tending goats with the other children of the Sanctuary, climbing trees and swimming in the swift stream while our charges grazed. I was steeped in the precept of Blessed Elua: Love as thou wilt. And I did. I loved without reserve, freely and easily—my playmates, the priests and priestesses of the Sanctuary, the goats I tended, the earth beneath my feet and the sky above my head. I am a D’Angeline; I loved Terre d’Ange, the country of my birth. With all my heart, I loved our gods, Elua and his Companions, and I knew myself loved in return. I was happy. I never thought to be anything else. When I was ten years old, everything changed. I was stolen by Carthaginian slave-traders and sent on a journey into hell. And I thought I’d die there, but I didn’t. I was rescued. I was brought out of damnation into safety. And everything changed again. In a distant fortress on the far verges of Khebbel-im-Akkad, the D’Angeline Queen’s delegate bowed his head and greeted me as Imriel de la Courcel, Prince of the Blood. All that I knew of myself was a lie.

(From the Kushiel’s Legacy Wiki)

Another OC from my D&D style game, the Dauphin.

“Now, which one of the Stregazza is Thérèse?” I asked, when I gauged that he was no longer paying attention to me. “Is she the firstborn? Prince Benedicte’s daughters are House Courcel, I thought.” “They’re of the Blood by birth, like Lyonette de Trevalion, but Thérèse married a Stregazza cousin. Dominic.” I had caught his interest; his voice ran a little ahead of his thoughts. Alcuin had always been better than I at royal genealogies. “A bad match, by all reckoning; he’s a minor Count, but then she was second-born. First is Marie-Celeste, who wed the Doge’s son. It’s her son stands to inherit La Serenissima. Once Prince Rolande died, I wager Dominic Stregazza thought to poise his family near the D’Angeline throne, though.” “And found his path blocked by House L’Envers,” I mused. “How disappointed he must have been. But why would Delaunay care who killed Isabel L’Envers? By all counts, she was his enemy.”

“Imriel!” Heedless of the protocol of adults, Alais, the younger, launched herself at me with a shout of delight. “Welcome back! I missed you!” I caught her, staggering a bit under her weight, and tried to fend off her kisses. Slight though she was, at ten years of age, her exuberance carried an impact. “Hello, Alais.” “Did you bring me a puppy?” she demanded. “You promised you would, from the spring’s litter in Montrève.” “I forgot,” I said honestly. “But I wasn’t expecting to be here so soon.” “Oh.” Her violet eyes, like unto the Queen’s, darkened. It was her only resemblance to Ysandre. For the rest, she looked purely Cruithne, like her father. “Of course. I’m sorry, that was thoughtless.” “That’s all right,” I said. “I’ll remember, next time.”

“Imriel.” Something flared behind her mask; stubbornly, she held her ground, continuing to follow my lead with effortless grace. “You’re hurting me.” I was, and I knew it, and ah! Elua help me, it felt good to draw a reaction from her. Even as the musicians ended their tune, I loosed my grip, turning her free. “Forgive me,” I murmured, bowing. “It wasn’t my intent, Dauphine.” Sidonie shook out her hand and eyed me with infuriating composure. “You’re not exactly your own best advocate, are you, cousin?” First it stung me, and then it made me laugh. “No,” I admitted. “Not exactly.” She smiled a little. “I do want to like you, Imriel. You’ve been good to Alais, and I’m grateful for it. It’s just . . .” She shrugged, looking very young and lonely. “I can’t afford to make any mistakes.” I nodded. “I know.” “How could you?” she asked simply. “I hear the whispers,” I said. “I know what some of the peers say.” “Cruithne half-breed.” Sidonie gave a bitter laugh. “And then they look at you and your pure D’Angeline blood, and they wonder.” “Sidonie.” I steered her off the dancing floor. “I swear to you, I have no designs on the throne.” On impulse, I dropped to one knee, taking her hand. “Sidonie de la Courcel, Dauphine of Terre d’Ange, in the name of Blessed Elua, I give you my oath of loyalty. For so long as I live, I will uphold your honor as my own and lay down my life in your defense.”

“Comtesse, your Prince Benedicte languished twenty years in a loveless marriage, sold into the bonds of political matrimony by his brother Ganelon. When Maria Stregazza died, he mourned her as much as was seemly. But now he is an old man with an adoring young bride, a refugee from his beloved homeland, who has given him a son. “I believe he declared this infant Imriel his heir out of sheer exuberance, with no thought for his actions. Given time and a tactful approach, he would doubtless revise his words and divide his territories between children. If my father would only see reason, he would send a suitable emissary to Prince Benedicte and resolve this foolish quarrel.”

“Bide your peace.” There was no jest in Delaunay’s tone and his gaze was somber. “We paid dear for that victory, when it cost Rolande de la Courcel’s life. He was born to rule, and would have held the throne with strength and grace upon his father’s passing, and none would have dared take up arms against him. We have paid for the security of our borders with instability in the City itself, and now our gains stand threatened in the bargain.” … “Were you there, my lord?” I ventured at length. He answered without turning around, and his voice was flat. “If I could have saved his life, I would have. We shouldn’t have been mounted, that was the problem. The ground was too uncertain. But Rolande was always rash. It was his only flaw, as a leader. When he led the third charge, he got too far ahead; his standard-bearer’s horse stumbled and went down, and we were held back in getting around him. Not long . . . but long enough for the Skaldi to cut him off.” He turned back to us with that same somber look. “On such small things, empires may hang. For want of a sure-footed mount, half the scions of Elua have their gaze set on becoming Prince Consort and claiming the throne through marriage; and Princes of the Blood like Baudoin de Trevalion scheme to take it by force of acclaim. Remember it, my dears, and when you plan, plan well and thoroughly.”