bakerstreet | The Courtly Love Meme

The Courtly Love Meme

The Courtly Love Meme

That's COURTLY LOVE. Not COURTNEY LOVE.

Courtly love or domnei was a medieval European conception of nobly and chivalrously expressing love and admiration. Generally, courtly love was secret and between members of the nobility. It was also generally not practiced between husband and wife.

The "courtly love" relationship is modeled on the feudal relationship between a knight and his liege lord. The knight serves his courtly lady (love service) with the same obedience and loyalty which he owes to his liege lord. She is in complete control of the love relationship, while he owes her obedience and submission.The knight's love for the lady inspires him to do great deeds, in order to be worthy of her love or to win her favor. Thus "courtly love" was originally construed as an ennobling force whether or not it was consummated, and even whether or not the lady knew about the knight's love or loved him in return.

The "courtly love" relationship typically was not between husband and wife, not because the poets and the audience were inherently immoral, but because it was an idealized sort of relationship that could not exist within the context of "real life" medieval marriages. In the middle ages, marriages amongst the nobility were typically based on practical and dynastic concerns rather than on love. The idea that a marriage could be based on love was a radical notion. But the audience for romance was perfectly aware that these romances were fictions, not models for actual behavior. The adulterous aspect that bothers many 20th-century readers was somewhat beside the point, which was to explore the potential influence of love on human behavior. The behavior of the knight and lady in love was drawn partly from troubadour poetry and partly from a set of literary conventions derived from the Latin poet Ovid, who described the "symptoms" of love as if it were a sickness. The "lovesick" knight became a conventional figure in medieval romance. Typical symptoms: sighing, turning pale, turning red, fever, inability to sleep, eat or drink. Romances often contained long interior monologues in which the lovers describe their feelings.

tl;dr characters are in a fantasy/medieval setting and having a courtly romance.

How to Play
- Comment with your character, preferences, etc. Also, be sure to include what "role" your character will be taking on in this little affair.

Lord/lady
Knight (gender neutral, of course)
Prince/princess
Bard or poet
Servant
Commoner (for the ultimate "forbidden romance")

-Comment to others, using the RNG to determine your fate.

Prompts

When I First Saw Your Face: You are meeting your liege or your knight for the first time. What you see takes your breath away.
Lovesick: Your pining for your beloved has made you ill! You can't eat, you can't sleep, you're in loves throes.
Playing Hard to Get: If you're of nobility, you at least have to pretend you're not interested.
You're So Coy: The art of flirtation is just getting started, but you have to be subtle about it.
In Your Honor: Be it a jousting match or a battle, you're going to win this for your lord/lady's name!
A Token: You must give your knight something for good luck.
A Gift: This is the reverse of the above. You must give your love something.
Keep a Secret: Kisses behind columns, holding hands under the table. You must sneak away little moments together, but you have to keep others in the dark.
Back from War: Your knight has been away in combat, and now they've returned. You want to shower them with affection.
Consumate: Believe it or not, courtly love could have a physical angle, as well. Sometimes physical afairs happened.
To Defend Your Honor: Someone has insulted your fair lady or lord. You know what that means! DUEL.
I'll Protect You: The lands are under an attack, and you must protect the person you love!
Breaking the Rules: You've decided to abandon the pretense of courtly love and actually be with this person, even if that means running away.
WILDCARD

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When they were younger, Merlin's apprentices were rarely apart. The sorcerer encouraged them to rely on each other, and coached loyalty rather than competition, particularly between the two boys. When they were younger, it worked.

Unfortunately, as they grew older and their feelings and relationships more complex, some tension arose. Maybe it was inevitable, with two young men and one beautiful young lady. Horvath and Balthazar were as different as night and day, but both were fond of the girl who had been fostered with them, grown into a capable sorceress worthy of admiration. Balthazar was always the warmer of the two boys, more socially adept, and Horvath seemed to watch them with each other, growing to be the odd man out. His resentment was subtle, but clear to those who knew him best. When he struck out on a quest, more his own idea than their master's, could anyone truly be surprised?

For over a year he was away, with little contact beyond the odd word of him via travelers. Out on his own, he'd healed a sickness sweeping through one village's children, and killed a dragon poisoning the well of another. Such deeds were not out of line with the missions all three of them had done with Merlin himself, but this time the deeds were Horvath's alone.

There was no word sent ahead. Horvath returned to the keep one day, without fanfare, riding a slightly broken-down horse that was not the one he'd left on.

Balthazar's strength is that he loves everyone. His weakness is that he wants them to love him back. It took a lot of work to win over Horvath when they were wee children, but it was worth it. They were inseparable for years, and he reveled in the presence of his adopted big brother.

Veronica charmed them all, by virtue of being lovely and kind, and then sealed the deal with her wit and talent. He's been following her like a puppy, which is an apt description for his love for her. He's not sure what he'd do if his adoration was returned in a way that might lead to genuine intimacy, but his fascination with the young sorceress is boundless.

Unfortunately, he missed the nuances of Horvath's behavior until it was too late, and floundered as he tried to think of a way to deal with it. Merlin told him to keep to duty and let Maximus sort himself out. He did, but it hasn't felt right. He's been gone so long.

By chance, Veronica and Merlin are out gathering herbs when Horvath returns from his quests. As he approaches, he can see a familiar figure on the wall around the Keep, and delicate, melancholy music floats down toward the approaching knight. It cuts off as soon as he's recognized. "Maximus? Max!"

The delight is spontaneous, and too genuine to be faked.

It's a pleasant enough day, but the older apprentice has a weary look to him, as if he's ridden hard over long miles. He's not built for skinny, but he's lost a little weight, and his clothes are more ragged and worn out than usual. It's been a long year.

The music has him riding slow, but at the unexpected greeting his head snaps up, and there's a flash of- something. Terror and joy mixed all in one, perhaps. He struggles to cover it up with a tired smile. "Bel..."

The younger man slides and scrambles down the wall and runs the few yards to meet him, too happy to notice the odd expression. "We last heard news of you over a fortnight ago. I didn't know you were coming home! Have you ridden all day? I'll make you tea; Danny can stable your poor horse."

Balthazar's enthusiasm is infectious, and as much as he's thought about him while he was away this is more than he even remembered. The weary smile flickers and grows a little, and he reins in the horse to dismount. "She... she needs a rest, yes..." It's an older mare, and he does feel a little guilty for pushing her so hard.

Horvath looks awkward, desperately wanting to hug Balthazar, but extremely wary of being the one to make that move.

Oh, for crying out loud, Maximus. So formal! Balthazar will initiate the requisite manly hug of greeting, then, complete with back-thumping. He's gotten fairly strong in Horvath's absence. He must have been doing activities other than playing the psaltery. "As do you, I'm sure."

Oh, that's good... still a little awkward, though. He hugs back- just a little too tight, for a moment. Horvath hasn't exactly been laying around, either, and he's a couple inches taller with a build to match. When he lets go carefully, and they part, he's looking awkward and shy still. Around everyone else, Horvath has always been very good at acting confident, but it is sometimes an act.

Now he's too flustered to try. "I... I'm a little tired. Ah..." He turns to fuss with the saddlebags, instead of heading straight for the stables. The mare doesn't mind, now that she's been allowed to stop, she's trying to make up for lost meals right there. When Horvath turns back, he's holding a small handful of things, and looking strangely bashful. "I brought... these. For you."

There's a faint wheeze as the hug ends. Balthazar's always been a bit envious of Horvath's physical strength. He thumps the mare gently and calls for the stable boy, then turns back in time to see the handful of objects he's being offered. He's clearly surprised, and a little puzzled, but he juggles his psaltery in order to accept. "Maximus, you didn't have to bring me anything. I'm glad you're back. We were all a little worried."

He meets his gaze, eyes brimful with sincerity. Whatever he did to mess things up, he wants to make up for it now. Behind him, Danny appears with a cheerful nod and makes to lead the mare inside. Clearly the apprentices are up to something and he knows better than to interfere.

Horvath juggles the objects to pull the saddlebag off and sling it over his shoulder, then lets the boy lead the weary animal away. She'll be glad for straw under her feet and some oats.

He's a little unsure about how to give the gifts to Balthazar, and even more unsure how to explain that doing brave deeds and bringing back trophies was the point of his entire journey. With one hand he cradles the lot against his chest, selecting the items one by one to offer to Balthazar with his other hand. The first is a long golden feather. "...From a griffin." He explains. He's tempted, and feels it might be more appropriate, if he dropped to one knee to offer these treasures, but he's not confident enough about this. The next item is a little glass vial. "Tears of a griffin." The liquid inside, just a few large drops, is crystalline and slightly painful to peer too close at. "Dragon scales..." These aren't large, each about as big around as a coin but flatter, an almost blackish green.

Balthazar starts out looking confused. Surely Maximus meant to bring these for Myrddhin, not him? They're magical artifacts, things of immense value. Balthazar's well past an adept, and capable of using them, but surely...

Slowly, he stops questioning, enchanted by the searing glint of the tears and the glossy dragon scales. "Maximus...you retrieved all of these yourself."

It's not a question, and there's definite awe in his voice.

Of course, he retrieved all of them himself. They're not only valuable, but he's been careful not to bring anything too gory, because it simply seems inappropriate for his intentions. He could have brought dragon fangs still dripping poison, after all, talons or horns or heads of magical beasts.

Horvath only nods a little, unable to meet Balthazar's eyes as any speech he had planned out in his head unravels before the other sorcerer. He has a gift each for Myrddhin and Veronica, small tokens, only.

"A singing stone- careful, it's a little risky to listen to," It's small and milky pale, looking like little more than a smooth pebble but surely fae in origin. "And... ah..." He has no explanation for the last item he puts into Balthazar's hands. It looks like a flower made of bone. It's small, and cold, delicate and unearthly. Once he touches it it seems to warm quickly, though, and glows very faintly as if from within.

This is not a gift for a friend.

And now, at last, Maximus' behavior begins to register. Shyness, a little stumbling over words, and is there a slight tremor in those powerful hands? The younger sorcerer feels rooted to the spot, caressing the pebble with his thumb softly, and then he gapes at the appearance of the little flower. He's never seen anything like it.

His throat works soundlessly for a moment, and when words do come out, his voice cracks embarrassingly. "Max. Max, did you really...you went out into the world over me?"

His eyes lock onto the heart of the flower as it continues to glow and pulse. As mysterious and ethereal as it is, it seems safer than looking at his friend just now.

It's just as well he's focused on the flower, because Horvath doesn't dare to look at him, either. Hands empty, now, he fidgets with the strap hanging down from the saddle bag, just for something to do out of nervousness. The nod may register in Balthazar's peripheral vision, and when he swallows thickly that's just audible, too. "It... they're... for you, be what may. You don't have to say anything. I just... needed you to know."

Balthazar takes a breath that turns out more ragged than he expected, almost like a sob wants to get out. But he doesn't feel like crying at all. Just a bit lightheaded.

He never saw this coming. He wonders if Merlin did.

"I want," he rasps, clears his throat, and tries again, "I want to say a lot, but I'm having trouble with words just now. C-come inside. Help me take them to my room?"

They can talk there. In private.

Again Horvath nods. He feels at once both incredibly tired, as if he could just lie down there in the grass and sleep for a month, and also vibrating with nerves wound so tight he thinks he might be vibrating (he's not, but it feels like it). Saddlebag over his shoulder, he walks with Balthazar, shoulder to shoulder but not quite touching, because he's really not at all sure how this is being received. The year away was not only to do deeds in his honor and collect trophies, but also it's taken him that long to fortify himself to make this declaration.

He's terrified, now. He assumes Balthazar and Veronica will have only grown closer, in his absence, and he's resigned himself to that. A knight should be willing to perform great tasks for love, even if the object of their devotion is bonded to another. For Balthazar, he would do that.

He's quiet as they enter the Keep and walk along the lower halls and up the stairs. Leave it to Balthazar to pick a room on the upper stories, where he can watch the birds nest in the eaves and the trees in the yard. It's not until they've entered his room that he dares to clear his throat and try again. "M...master Myrrdhin and Veronica are out now. I'm sure they'll be happy you've returned, too."

But he's glad they're not here at the moment. He has Horvath to himself.

He goes to his apothecary cabinet and places the tears, the feather, and the scales carefully in drawers. These are useful gifts, although he'll be reluctant to use them. The stone and the flower he still cradles close as he returns to his own bedside and sets them both on the nightstand. A place of honor. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looks up to Horvath at last. "You could have just spoken," he says gently, eyes full of warmth and uncertainty. "I wish I had known. You can be so difficult to read."

He holds out a hand. "Come sit with me."

Their footsteps echo in the long climb up the stairwell, weariness dragging at Horvath's legs, and tension gnawing at his nerves. He follows, though, and inside Balthazar's room he simply stands, waiting and watching him move around putting his gifts away in a daze. When they were boys, for a number of years, they shared a room. Myrrdhin had to come in after bed on quite a few occasions to order them to sleep, when their whispered fights or jokes carried up the hall. They were like brothers, then, always in each others space, sharing secrets and hurling insults and then reuniting again over punishments for fighting.

Now, he stands in Balthazar's room and feels like an intruder there.

It's not until he's invited over that Horvath comes to sit. The other sorcerer's words give him hope, but Horvath, who is always so eloquent, finds himself struggling for words in this. "Could I have? It wasn't my place, and it still isn't, really." He has plenty of words, but he's never been easy with people the way that Balthazar is. He wears his words like armor.

Balthazar still remembers their younger days, too. Raised with sisters, only, half the time he reveled in having a brother. The other half of the time he sulked over how difficult it was to keep the peace between them. Maybe they wouldn't have become so close if there weren't fights, though.

He places a hand on Horvath's arm. "It's not...for either of us, I suppose. We have duties. But then again..." He licks his lips, thinking his words over carefully. "We've always relied on one another. We balance each other, you and I."

Horvath watches the hand on his arm, not Balthazar's face, but all the same he's aware of him licking his lips in the dry quiet sound close by. It is an effort, not to look up.

"...Just you and I?" It hurts, to invoke the third party in this affair, and perhaps it is cruel of him, but he needs to know what Balthazar and Veronica are to each other if he is to figure out his place in any of this. It hurts more than he'll ever tell either of them, but it shows in the stiff way he holds himself, gazing down at Balthazar's hand on his arm, curtain of dark hair half obscuring a carefully neutral expression.

Balthazar loves them both with a vehemence that's almost painful. There was a time he would have clung to Veronica, or struggled with making the choice. Over the past several months, though, he's realized how much he needs Maximus, and how much Veronica doesn't need him. Not as anything more than a brother, in any case.

"Max...Veronica wants a normal life. I'm not built for that. I love magic too much to turn my back on it, even if duty allowed for it. I love her very much, too, but I've come to realize it's as a friend."

Perhaps absence does make the heart grow fonder?

"We're not... any of us, made for a normal life. It's too late for that." Not that it's ever bothered him much. Sorcery was his salvation, and he's never had any interest in turning his back on it.

"What... do you want?"

Something like that. There's also something achingly romantic in knowing Maximus has done all these deeds out of love for him. He shouldn't have had to. Really, he didn't have to. But maybe that makes them even more precious.

"Maybe not. You and I, we'll never try to go back. She may want to, some day, and I wouldn't want to be what stands in her way." His hand rests on Horvath's shoulder, kneading the muscle gently. "I want to love and be loved. You know me. You know what drives me."

He looks up and gives him a soft smile. "The only question is whether we can be lovers and still follow our duty. I...don't see any reason not to try."

Even through layers of leather and wool, that touch feels so good, driving deep into his muscles like a quiet crackle shock of electricity. Horvath gives a little shiver, dark eyes flickering closed briefly.

"I... don't always understand what drives you. You've always been the day to my night. But... what will Master think?"

It's the reaction, rather than the touch itself, that lashes through Balthazar's heart and nerve endings. There's nothing quite like feeling loved, feeling wanted. He's tempted to just fling himself into Horvath's arms, but that would be...intemperate.

"That's sweet, Maximus. I'm not that good, I'm afraid." He smiles wryly and leans a little. "I don't know what he'll think. But there's no danger of unexpected children with us, at least."

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The Courtly Love Meme

Horvath is more of a knight... 9/7ish

omg. <3

;)

Re: ;)

Re: ;)

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